Sometimes you have those days where you don’t really want to move. The kind of day where the bed and the couch have some kind of magnetic force, and you ass is just one giant refrigerator magnet. Your brain keeps telling you that there is “the list”, that big scary transformer of a list that needs to get taken care of. You know the list is important, you know the list will not take care of itself, you know the list has control over you, but you also know that if you try to get off the couch the sky will turn orange and the air will turn into bug spray. So the better idea seems to be to just stay on the couch. It’s not like you aren’t aware of the list, because chances are the only thing you are thinking about the whole time the couch is holding you hostage is the list. You think of what you would have done first off of the list, how you would have gone about doing it, and the preferred outcomes. You consider what would have been the most efficient travel routes, you ponder what stores are closest to each other, and you meditate on how you would have phrased your questions and offered your opinions. The fact that you didn’t do anything almost seems irrelevant because you thought it all out, you practically did it all. You were so close to taking a significant chunk out of that terrible “list” that you almost feel in the mood to celebrate; but then you remember that close only counts in horseshoes and preemptive bombings. No matter how much good will or heart felt mentality you put into something, it’s never going to be good enough unless you hit the bullseye.
Sometimes I play darts. On days where the couch has taken be captive, it is often gracious enough to allow me a bathroom break and some free time. During my free time I play darts. I am actually pretty good at it, but not in the ways that actually matter. A good dart player is not concerned with hitting the large numbers or accumulating as many points as possible every time they throw, no, a good dart player is worried about accuracy and skill. I can put all three darts on the board every time I throw, but I have no direction when I throw. My darts hit any number they damn well please, and I end up happy because I hit the board. But hitting the board is not even the real point of the game, winning is the real point of the game; and sometimes to win you have to miss or scratch out. Sometimes when you are playing it is way too easy to only see the bullseye, but usually the bullseye isn’t even what you need to score.
Attraction is such a dart board of a thing. All the qualities that a person could find attractive or be attracted to are just laid out there, and then we stand and throw our darts at it in hopes to hit something good. A sliver of mesmerizing eye color, a piece of broad shoulders, a triangle of aspirations, we throw our darts while thinking the highest score will benefit us the most. I suppose hitting the bullseye would be getting the best, most opportune result to attraction, but sometimes that isn’t what you really need to score. Sometimes you need to build up with smaller numbers, sometimes you need to focus on precision and accuracy before you can start throwing for the bullseye. Sure fifty points is a nice large amount, but it can also be too much and make you lose or bust. Then where are you after you bust? Right back where you were before, but now you are even more disappointed. Sometimes life hits you in the bullseye because life isn’t polite. Sometimes the couch grabs you by the bullseye and doesn’t let you go. Sometimes you throw for the bullseye but hit something close to it, something better then the bullseye itself. When that happens, that’s when you get to look life in the bullseye and say “I win”.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
-Absolutely Fabulous Memories
Have you ever tried to remember a movie line or a song lyric or that perfect sarcastic comeback, only to find that your mind draws a blank, your tongue fails you and that you have nothing to say at all. Then four days later you’re standing in the kitchen making noodles and then your memory kicks in and you end up with a slight case of turrets. My housemates were caught off guard when I yelled “yippy ki yay muthafucka” at my spaghetti. For the record the noodles did decide to clump together and be sticky. I find that these little brain farts have been occurring more and more since summer has started. I don’t want to say that I am off my game or even more flighty then usual, but I can’t seem to remember to memorize my thoughts. All the little things keep slipping through the cracks while the big topics are crashing down creating even more of them. Topics like love, heartbreak, family and confidence have rifled my last week so badly it would look like Swiss cheese. The ironic thing is that none of them were directly related to me, it feels as though the minute I forget to remember my life, my life is filled with living. I had already decided to lay low for the summer and try to regroup and prepare myself for the coming fall semester. My plan was to work hard and rest hard; I wanted to know what the dog days of summer were really like. I had intended to have a minimalist kind of summer, and so far its been busier then an Edina Monsoon outfit.
Being in the midst of all the activity and rushing makes you simultaneously learn and remember who you are and what you are made of. Lately I have been placed in situations where I seem to be the parental figure, both nurturing and instructing. Listening to what the problem is and figuring out the instigators, the actions, the results and the possible remedies to the event at hand. And let it be known that if I was standing in for the role of parent, the role of troublesome children was also filled. I might even say overflowing, but a parent never would admit to such a thing. In the eye of the shit storm, I had a strange brain fart, or I guess it would be more of an anti-brain fart. I remembered that I realized what I was doing; I knew how to caudle and caution, how to warn and wane, and how to heed and holler. I was doing all the grown up things I can barely do in my own life, for the lives of those around me. By forgetting to think about what I should be doing, I somehow remembered exactly what I need to be doing.
I think that things can get so cluttered sometimes and we can tend to over think and over analyze that we think it into something else. When you focus on something for too long it can just get bigger and bigger until it is the only thing that fits in your brain. But once you remember to forget about it, and think on something else, everything seems to be put into perspective. Your major isn’t really anything more then a couple words on a slip of paper. Your job is just an activity that helps you pay the bills and afford pizza and banana republic. Your relational title is just a social formality. Your goals and aspirations can change as often as the box office leader, so there is no point in remembering to think about it all the time. Being a nurse or an accountant or a marine or an English major isn’t who you are, it’s just what you think about. Who you are is what makes how you think, the ways in which you handle your situations.
When you don’t want to think about who you are, when you forget about it entirely and focus on everybody else, that seems to be when you really remember what you are made of. So remember to forget some things every once in a while.
Being in the midst of all the activity and rushing makes you simultaneously learn and remember who you are and what you are made of. Lately I have been placed in situations where I seem to be the parental figure, both nurturing and instructing. Listening to what the problem is and figuring out the instigators, the actions, the results and the possible remedies to the event at hand. And let it be known that if I was standing in for the role of parent, the role of troublesome children was also filled. I might even say overflowing, but a parent never would admit to such a thing. In the eye of the shit storm, I had a strange brain fart, or I guess it would be more of an anti-brain fart. I remembered that I realized what I was doing; I knew how to caudle and caution, how to warn and wane, and how to heed and holler. I was doing all the grown up things I can barely do in my own life, for the lives of those around me. By forgetting to think about what I should be doing, I somehow remembered exactly what I need to be doing.
I think that things can get so cluttered sometimes and we can tend to over think and over analyze that we think it into something else. When you focus on something for too long it can just get bigger and bigger until it is the only thing that fits in your brain. But once you remember to forget about it, and think on something else, everything seems to be put into perspective. Your major isn’t really anything more then a couple words on a slip of paper. Your job is just an activity that helps you pay the bills and afford pizza and banana republic. Your relational title is just a social formality. Your goals and aspirations can change as often as the box office leader, so there is no point in remembering to think about it all the time. Being a nurse or an accountant or a marine or an English major isn’t who you are, it’s just what you think about. Who you are is what makes how you think, the ways in which you handle your situations.
When you don’t want to think about who you are, when you forget about it entirely and focus on everybody else, that seems to be when you really remember what you are made of. So remember to forget some things every once in a while.
Monday, June 15, 2009
-Let Me Give You My Card
Did you know that they actually do have cards you can hand out to people, informing them of your romantic interest. For months now I’ve been going on and on about my strong desire to be able to just hand out cards to those whom I find attractive. I was one bored afternoon and a label maker away from actually starting my own business. Think of how convenient it would be to just hand out a card instead of having to waste time with awkward questions and forced smiles. It would be so refreshing to skip the terrible guessing game when you try to figure out if they are interested or not. Sure it might seem a bit formal and slightly unromantic, but maybe it’s time to bring some order back to the full house of dating. People hand out all kinds of business cards. Dog walkers give cards out at the parks. Insurance agents give out cards when they see your smooshed car on the side of the highway. Lawyers give out their cards just to prove they are despicable people, I mean respectable people. So why shouldn’t we be able to hand out cards for romantic business. After all, Love Inc. is the parent company that owns everything else. I did forget to mention that so far these dating cards only seem to be available at clubs and bars, but isn’t that where all the great social trends start. Writing on your hands, paying too much for alcohol, being at a place where everybody knows your name. And don’t act like you didn’t just sing that last part in your head. So for now, the cards are only handed out at the club, but what happens when your hands are full of cards?
I’ve never really spent time or effort in trying to better my poker skills, but yet somehow I can manage my way through an evening of chip throwing, ante upping and raised bets. It’s not that I don’t know how to play the game; it’s just that I never thought it prudent to learn more tricks. I can definitely do more then just bluff my way through a hand, and sometimes I even have a method to my madness. But usually, most of the time, it’s just luck and happenstance. It seems that my poker skills are very, almost in an uncanny nature, similar to my dating skills. Sure I’m always ready to play the game, and I pay attention to what cards are dealt and who is doing the dealing, but I have a hard time trying to form a hand that wins. It’s tricky sometimes to figure out whether to stay or raise, or whether to put down or pick up. You have to consider whether you’ll get a matching pair or end up with nothing. Should you discard in hopes of getting a better hand, or do you just play it safe? Men, and women, are like playing cards; but it is impossible to figure out what will end up winning you the pot, or what will put you in heartbreak debt. Do two hearts have a chance of winning; is there any point in trying to get a full house?
I have learned however that bluffing will get you no where in the dating game, and I have a strong dislike towards those who use that tactic as a way of getting a winning hand. It’s hard enough to try and decide whether to place higher bets or just fold, and nothing is helped when lying comes into the equation. I guess in poker it isn’t called lying, but in relationships it is. There is no bluffing when dating. Alright fine, if you want to omit the fact that you had six fender benders in one year, or not confess that you still can’t spell the word xylowfone, that’s ok. But bluffing, or lying, about how many cards are in your deck or how many hands you still want to deal in your future, that’s not cool. The only response I have to that is: go spade yourself.
So when it comes to dating, and trying to determine whether to go all in, remember these playing tips: you don’t have to play every hand, the chips are going to fall where they may, and there is more to life then simply getting lucky.
I’ve never really spent time or effort in trying to better my poker skills, but yet somehow I can manage my way through an evening of chip throwing, ante upping and raised bets. It’s not that I don’t know how to play the game; it’s just that I never thought it prudent to learn more tricks. I can definitely do more then just bluff my way through a hand, and sometimes I even have a method to my madness. But usually, most of the time, it’s just luck and happenstance. It seems that my poker skills are very, almost in an uncanny nature, similar to my dating skills. Sure I’m always ready to play the game, and I pay attention to what cards are dealt and who is doing the dealing, but I have a hard time trying to form a hand that wins. It’s tricky sometimes to figure out whether to stay or raise, or whether to put down or pick up. You have to consider whether you’ll get a matching pair or end up with nothing. Should you discard in hopes of getting a better hand, or do you just play it safe? Men, and women, are like playing cards; but it is impossible to figure out what will end up winning you the pot, or what will put you in heartbreak debt. Do two hearts have a chance of winning; is there any point in trying to get a full house?
I have learned however that bluffing will get you no where in the dating game, and I have a strong dislike towards those who use that tactic as a way of getting a winning hand. It’s hard enough to try and decide whether to place higher bets or just fold, and nothing is helped when lying comes into the equation. I guess in poker it isn’t called lying, but in relationships it is. There is no bluffing when dating. Alright fine, if you want to omit the fact that you had six fender benders in one year, or not confess that you still can’t spell the word xylowfone, that’s ok. But bluffing, or lying, about how many cards are in your deck or how many hands you still want to deal in your future, that’s not cool. The only response I have to that is: go spade yourself.
So when it comes to dating, and trying to determine whether to go all in, remember these playing tips: you don’t have to play every hand, the chips are going to fall where they may, and there is more to life then simply getting lucky.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
-The Fast and The Failure
There are two types of fast when it comes to relationships: the slutty fast and the emotional fast. The slutty fast is, well, kind of not in need of a detailed-multi-layered-whipped-cream-topped-description. It pretty much means you single handily, or sometimes double handedly, make good use of mattress springs, are familiar with getting chocolate syrup off of yourself and keep baby oil makers in business. Most people know to avoid the slutty fast, but what people (and by people I mean me) don’t always have a grasp of is moving emotionally fast. At least when you act like a slut you can shower it off, but when you move emotionally fast you end up reeking of it for days. No amount of Acqua di Gio can mask the scent of an emotional streaker. And that’s what being emotional too quickly is like; taking everything off and running around bare, exposed. There is more then one kind of nudity in relationships: the kind where you expose your body and the kind where you expose your body of thought. When you’re dating it makes sense to show some skin and flex some muscle as quickly and as often as possible. But we aren’t supposed to show some sensitivity or flex some maturity until…until when? Just when exactly is it alright to let the other person know that you care not only about what their tongue can do, but what it is saying. Talking in relationships has such a negative connotation. The last time I used the phrase “actually, I think we should talk” while I was dating someone lead to an abrupt ending, which then lead to an abrupt six months of getting over said ending. What I learned from that was the importance of both sex and speaking; you shouldn’t have one without the other. And you shouldn’t do either one fast. But when body language becomes more reliable then the English language, the conversation and the relationship can become flaccid.
They say that men have a certain amount of words that they are able to use in one day. If they reach their limit before the day is up then they open a beer, sit on the couch and turn on the game. It doesn’t really matter what kind of game it is, just as long as it can be titled a game. And with several types of ESPN available, versions 1 and 2, classic, college, retro, metro, supersized and bedazzled, there is almost always a game to be had for quiet viewing pleasure. But in relationships you want to avoid quiet times, which mean you have to talk with more then just your torso. Real conversations need to be had so that the relationship has a chance of being real, otherwise you end up licking pudding off a semi stranger that you can’t remember the last name of. That previous sentence was totally just hypothetical.
So how do you talk about wanting to talk without making it sound like you’re having the talk, I have not figured it out yet. I’ve talked my way out of many a situation, but I still dread the idea of trying to dig myself out of that conversational hole. If you try to discuss the relationship too soon, it gets dirty. If you wait too long, by then the only conversations your having is dirty talk. But there does seem to be a linguistic catch-22 about it all. If you’re only fluent in body language, the relationship doesn’t last too long. If you’re familiar with the English language, you’re usually familiar with failed relationships. Talk too little, get a limp relationship. Talk too often, end up with a limp dick. Since when did showing someone you cared about them become such a turn off? Have we become such a concrete, independent, self sufficient society that we no longer consider compassion to be charming? I feel as if we should take a minute and talk about….oh wait.
They say that men have a certain amount of words that they are able to use in one day. If they reach their limit before the day is up then they open a beer, sit on the couch and turn on the game. It doesn’t really matter what kind of game it is, just as long as it can be titled a game. And with several types of ESPN available, versions 1 and 2, classic, college, retro, metro, supersized and bedazzled, there is almost always a game to be had for quiet viewing pleasure. But in relationships you want to avoid quiet times, which mean you have to talk with more then just your torso. Real conversations need to be had so that the relationship has a chance of being real, otherwise you end up licking pudding off a semi stranger that you can’t remember the last name of. That previous sentence was totally just hypothetical.
So how do you talk about wanting to talk without making it sound like you’re having the talk, I have not figured it out yet. I’ve talked my way out of many a situation, but I still dread the idea of trying to dig myself out of that conversational hole. If you try to discuss the relationship too soon, it gets dirty. If you wait too long, by then the only conversations your having is dirty talk. But there does seem to be a linguistic catch-22 about it all. If you’re only fluent in body language, the relationship doesn’t last too long. If you’re familiar with the English language, you’re usually familiar with failed relationships. Talk too little, get a limp relationship. Talk too often, end up with a limp dick. Since when did showing someone you cared about them become such a turn off? Have we become such a concrete, independent, self sufficient society that we no longer consider compassion to be charming? I feel as if we should take a minute and talk about….oh wait.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
-A Life In Boxes
I tend to like knowing where things are. I like being able to find things quickly, I find it useful to have things organized and in their place. This also tends to help me because I seem to be five minutes behind schedule a lot of the time, so not having to search for things makes life easier. I’m not some OCD clean freak, but I definitely support cleanliness and organization. Does my room look like a Gap store? No, but I do have a general idea as to where all my jeans are. Is my bookshelf alphabetized and in numerical order? No, but I can find my favorite book in under twelve seconds. I like avoiding messiness, it seems to make everything flow. To me, having things in their place is like having a good roll of packing tape; it is easy and you avoid wasting time and getting your hands stuck. Otherwise you spend six minutes just trying to find where the tape begins and then wrestling with it to not rip or stick to the box and not to your hand. Having recently moved my entire life from one side of the city to the other, I have gotten very familiar with both boxes and packing tape. I also found out you can bungee cord a mattress to the roof of your car, drive sixty miles an hour and not get arrested. But during the transition from one house to the other my system was royally flunked. Nothing was where it was supposed to be; instead my life was in boxes. I am not willing to admit to how many days I was forced to wear the same pair of boxers, but let’s just say it was more then what is GQ recommended. During this boxed in boxer time I began to think about all the other ways it pays to have organization in our lives. Not only does it save us time while we run out the door, but it also saves us from running in romantic circles.
Appreciating a system and liking to know where things are is not only applied to my bedroom or my bookshelf, it is also applied to my love life. I’m sure you need a minute after having read that surprising tidbit of shocking information….alright, back to the words. I know it seems pointless, but I like having a plan when dating; it’s like the roll of tape. Think of how efficient and timely everything happens when the tape is properly used, and then think about all the time wasted when it is a mess and you can’t find the beginning or the end. It pays to be organized. I have almost reached the point where I would just like to start handing out dating note cards that have simple questions that can be answered by checking the “yes” box or the “no” box. Again it comes back to the boxes. It seems to be impossible to have any kind of organization when it comes to dating, very rarely are things where they should be. Between the baggage, the boxes, and the boxers who has time to play games?
I know that you can’t control everything in your life, and I honestly don’t want to. Some days you don’t even want a system because it has begun to make you feel boxed in. Some days the system and the organization is the only thing that keeps you going. Thank you Bree Van De Kamp and Catherine Mayfair, you teach us so much. But I am beginning to realize that having organization in your closet, in your bookshelf or in your bedroom is helpful because most of our time is spent organizing our relationships. If you don’t know where your toothbrush is, that’s an inconvenience. Not knowing the difference between like you and like you, that’s a problem.
So, you can sort your sock drawer, tape your keys to your desk, you can even bungee a mattress to your car; but will we ever be able to have organized dating? It seems that dating is the one thing you can not have a system for, and you can like that or you can like that. The decision is all yours.
Appreciating a system and liking to know where things are is not only applied to my bedroom or my bookshelf, it is also applied to my love life. I’m sure you need a minute after having read that surprising tidbit of shocking information….alright, back to the words. I know it seems pointless, but I like having a plan when dating; it’s like the roll of tape. Think of how efficient and timely everything happens when the tape is properly used, and then think about all the time wasted when it is a mess and you can’t find the beginning or the end. It pays to be organized. I have almost reached the point where I would just like to start handing out dating note cards that have simple questions that can be answered by checking the “yes” box or the “no” box. Again it comes back to the boxes. It seems to be impossible to have any kind of organization when it comes to dating, very rarely are things where they should be. Between the baggage, the boxes, and the boxers who has time to play games?
I know that you can’t control everything in your life, and I honestly don’t want to. Some days you don’t even want a system because it has begun to make you feel boxed in. Some days the system and the organization is the only thing that keeps you going. Thank you Bree Van De Kamp and Catherine Mayfair, you teach us so much. But I am beginning to realize that having organization in your closet, in your bookshelf or in your bedroom is helpful because most of our time is spent organizing our relationships. If you don’t know where your toothbrush is, that’s an inconvenience. Not knowing the difference between like you and like you, that’s a problem.
So, you can sort your sock drawer, tape your keys to your desk, you can even bungee a mattress to your car; but will we ever be able to have organized dating? It seems that dating is the one thing you can not have a system for, and you can like that or you can like that. The decision is all yours.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Color Me Comeback
-Color Me Comeback
For those of you who have been keeping score, or keeping up, I have been off my game and practically out of the playing arena. There has been no race to the romantic finish line, no batting for affection and certainly no game, set, match. For the past several months my dating scorecard reads all zero and no love, my tennis racket has been collecting dust. I’ve played more Wii tennis then I have lovegames. Maybe Lady Gaga was right when she said it always seems to start the same, but the middle and the ending are completely different. Sure there are basic steps and similarities to a relationship; but when they occur, how they occur and who makes them occur are harder to control then Kirstie Alley in a Baskin Robbins. Having made myself more then acquainted with both ice cream and solitude all winter long, when the sunshine returned and the time came to actually get back on the dating horse I kind of forgot how to saddle up. Although I was no where near proper preparedness, I figured if Mickey Rouke could get nominated for an Oscar after all he had done I could put myself together for a date. It’s not like I hadn’t done it before, I knew what to expect and how it would most likely play out. After some self motivation speaking and a good strong ice tea I was ready to get back into the swing of things. Making a comeback is not that complicated, all you really need is a good synthesizer, a few racy music videos and a fan base that doesn’t mind a lip synced live show.
Maybe it takes more effort then originally thought…
It wasn’t long before I found out just how much goes into a proper comeback, and I have yet to find out what exactly goes into a triumphant comeback because that is clearly not what I did. I went into the situation basing it all on what I had done before, I was drawing a map using the pen of previous relationships; but basing your decisions on previous failures seems to be a rotten way of coloring the future. This ethos has become a favorite of mine lately, bleeding into nearly all parts of my life. Its one thing to know how to act in a situation, it is another thing to know how to react in a situation. Thinking you know how to handle the situation placed before seems very pompous, because all you really know is what worked in the past. There is no way to really know what will work for the future. I do believe it is time to get some new crayons and start coloring in different shades. Use purple where you used to have green and trade blue for yellow, get red instead of black; basically I think we should try something new because what we use to consider masterpieces is beginning to look like master failures.
Artwork aside, I have a lot to figure out before I am in triumphant territory anytime soon. Realizing that I was basing and setting expectations for the future, off of what had occurred in previous relationships, was like biting into tofu thinking you were going to chew some steak. Disturbing, very unsettling and it leaves a nasty taste in your mouth for quite some time. It’s not a matter of trying to saddle up again, it’s a matter of realizing you’re dealing with a completely new animal all together. Whatever you use to do to stay in the saddle might not amount to a hill of beans this time, it’s a whole new ride and you have to realize you might get bucked off. And let’s be honest, everyone gets bucked off so there is no shame in that; there is shame in not wanting to dust yourself off and ride again. So fill your six shooters with brand new crayons, cut a new horse from the pack and try your hardest to saddle up and hold on. Yee-haw.
For those of you who have been keeping score, or keeping up, I have been off my game and practically out of the playing arena. There has been no race to the romantic finish line, no batting for affection and certainly no game, set, match. For the past several months my dating scorecard reads all zero and no love, my tennis racket has been collecting dust. I’ve played more Wii tennis then I have lovegames. Maybe Lady Gaga was right when she said it always seems to start the same, but the middle and the ending are completely different. Sure there are basic steps and similarities to a relationship; but when they occur, how they occur and who makes them occur are harder to control then Kirstie Alley in a Baskin Robbins. Having made myself more then acquainted with both ice cream and solitude all winter long, when the sunshine returned and the time came to actually get back on the dating horse I kind of forgot how to saddle up. Although I was no where near proper preparedness, I figured if Mickey Rouke could get nominated for an Oscar after all he had done I could put myself together for a date. It’s not like I hadn’t done it before, I knew what to expect and how it would most likely play out. After some self motivation speaking and a good strong ice tea I was ready to get back into the swing of things. Making a comeback is not that complicated, all you really need is a good synthesizer, a few racy music videos and a fan base that doesn’t mind a lip synced live show.
Maybe it takes more effort then originally thought…
It wasn’t long before I found out just how much goes into a proper comeback, and I have yet to find out what exactly goes into a triumphant comeback because that is clearly not what I did. I went into the situation basing it all on what I had done before, I was drawing a map using the pen of previous relationships; but basing your decisions on previous failures seems to be a rotten way of coloring the future. This ethos has become a favorite of mine lately, bleeding into nearly all parts of my life. Its one thing to know how to act in a situation, it is another thing to know how to react in a situation. Thinking you know how to handle the situation placed before seems very pompous, because all you really know is what worked in the past. There is no way to really know what will work for the future. I do believe it is time to get some new crayons and start coloring in different shades. Use purple where you used to have green and trade blue for yellow, get red instead of black; basically I think we should try something new because what we use to consider masterpieces is beginning to look like master failures.
Artwork aside, I have a lot to figure out before I am in triumphant territory anytime soon. Realizing that I was basing and setting expectations for the future, off of what had occurred in previous relationships, was like biting into tofu thinking you were going to chew some steak. Disturbing, very unsettling and it leaves a nasty taste in your mouth for quite some time. It’s not a matter of trying to saddle up again, it’s a matter of realizing you’re dealing with a completely new animal all together. Whatever you use to do to stay in the saddle might not amount to a hill of beans this time, it’s a whole new ride and you have to realize you might get bucked off. And let’s be honest, everyone gets bucked off so there is no shame in that; there is shame in not wanting to dust yourself off and ride again. So fill your six shooters with brand new crayons, cut a new horse from the pack and try your hardest to saddle up and hold on. Yee-haw.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
-Rinse and Repeat
This cold, windy weather has got to stop. I am absolutely fed up with it. You think the sunshine would help but really it just makes it worse. You begin to think that the temperatures might actually start being above sub-freezing-too-cold-to-sit-on-the-toilet-cold, when all of the sudden your sprawled out on the concrete because of a patch of black ice. Yes, very funny mother nature; I hope you’re getting a nice laugh out of this one. And I hope global warming treats you a lesson real soon, you climate controlling hussy. Really though it is not just the temperatures that have got me in a fix; but it is the side effects that they produce. For instance, all the dry skin due to the temperatures and wind. That is very frustrating, when the temperatures dictate how many times a day you should wash your hands, things have gone too far. Remember when bloody knuckles meant sliding quarters at each others hands, and now it means you need some moisturizer and thicker gloves. Oh how times have changed. But it’s not just the hands that suffer, my head suffers too; or rather my scalp suffers. Between the constant combination of being stuffed under baseball caps, scooped up in beanies and washed and dried in under heated bathrooms I do believe it has surrendered; and to let me know it has done so it has sent out the white flags. The remedy for this problem: time, patience and good shampoo. Having last bought shampoo the first time Britney made a comeback, I was surprised to find out just how many options I had. Shampoo has its own complete aisle, the same amount of room that is given to a years worth of hot pockets is passed out for Pantene, given to Garnier, divided amongst Dove and shared by Sunsilk. Nellie Forbush would be stunned. Apparently shampoo has directions as well, besides just the basic “rinse and repeat”. These days you have to put on pre conditioning gel before you shampoo and post moisture crème after; anyone else fighting the urge to buzz it all off?
Drastic measures might seem like a quick fix and a right now remedy, but regret can linger in the air longer then the winter chill. Plus if directions that simple have lasted so long it has to be for a purpose. There is a certain rhythm that flows from the idea of rinse and repeat, the simplicity of it can be applied elsewhere in life. Dating is a good place to apply this two step process. Much like the weather, dating can be chilly and severe. It can often dry you out, make you want to stay in doors and even send out white flags. It might even be so bad that sometimes you want to do something drastic: like buzzing your hair, buying and consuming two pounds of watermelon jelly bellies or swearing off dating entirely. But as stated before drastic measures are just that, drastic and unproductive. So what to do when suffering a cold patch in the dating game? Rinse and repeat. Simply wash it out of your hair, and send it on its way. Rock it out of your roll call and drum it out of your dreams. Honestly, these kinds of things happen every day; no need to be so dramatic about it. Get the picture?
There aren’t a whole lot of options when it comes to alternatives. That is of course unless you want to end this habit to take up another. But not all of us look good in black and white. So we are forced to wash ourselves off, fix ourselves up and go out and do it all over again. It might be successful, it might be disastrous, but what else are you going to do but repeat. There is no point in just rinsing. So whether you are stuck in the windy Midwest or sitting in the sunny South Pacific, when it comes to dating all you can do rinse and repeat as needed.
Drastic measures might seem like a quick fix and a right now remedy, but regret can linger in the air longer then the winter chill. Plus if directions that simple have lasted so long it has to be for a purpose. There is a certain rhythm that flows from the idea of rinse and repeat, the simplicity of it can be applied elsewhere in life. Dating is a good place to apply this two step process. Much like the weather, dating can be chilly and severe. It can often dry you out, make you want to stay in doors and even send out white flags. It might even be so bad that sometimes you want to do something drastic: like buzzing your hair, buying and consuming two pounds of watermelon jelly bellies or swearing off dating entirely. But as stated before drastic measures are just that, drastic and unproductive. So what to do when suffering a cold patch in the dating game? Rinse and repeat. Simply wash it out of your hair, and send it on its way. Rock it out of your roll call and drum it out of your dreams. Honestly, these kinds of things happen every day; no need to be so dramatic about it. Get the picture?
There aren’t a whole lot of options when it comes to alternatives. That is of course unless you want to end this habit to take up another. But not all of us look good in black and white. So we are forced to wash ourselves off, fix ourselves up and go out and do it all over again. It might be successful, it might be disastrous, but what else are you going to do but repeat. There is no point in just rinsing. So whether you are stuck in the windy Midwest or sitting in the sunny South Pacific, when it comes to dating all you can do rinse and repeat as needed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
