A Nice Big Bowl of Conversation

-A Nice Big Bowl of Conversation

When we are children we are taught many things when it comes to the art of conversation. If you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all. Only speak if spoken to first. Kind words will lead you to kind people. And, on the rare occasion we were actually suppose to say something, say it loud and say it proud. That’s not even including the things we have to discover for ourselves; such as speaking with poise, eloquence, tact, diction and comedic timing. Apparently it is a lot more then simply learning our vowels and how to make things plural. Learning the right way to speak is almost as hard as learning another language all together. So I guess it makes sense that a lot of the time we never really say what is on our minds. Sure, we all have the perfect comeback, that lasting one-liner, the final word to end the argument, but most of the time we hold back; not wanting to hear what would happen if we spoke our peace.
Maybe we hold back because peace is not always the outcome when we use ours words. Sometimes opening our mouths is a lot like opening Pandora’s Box. We thought we had to do it because keeping it closed would have been a let down, it would have been something to regret later; we had to open it up because the temptation and curiosity was too great. Well, curiosity killed the cat and maybe that is why it wasn’t there to hold our tongue. It can be hard to decipher when to speak up and when to shut up. When it comes to conversations, especially ones in relationships, there is no recipe to turn to. Although there are a lot of similarities between cooking and talking, this might be why Italians like to do both very often.
Good conversation is a lot like good cuisine; preparation is required, patience is needed, there might need to be some time to cool off before enjoying and it all tastes better when made from the heart. If there is something that needs to be discussed or you feel should be brought up the first thing you should do is think it through, don’t rush into it. Consider all the ingredients needed. How many cups of understanding will you need, how many tablespoons of wisdom should be added, is your sensibility fresh and check to make sure your sarcasm hasn’t gone bad. Make sure all the temperatures are correct; don’t get too heated, don’t let things boil over and watch out for burns. You might want to let everything cool a bit before you try to present it. After you have prepared everything and let it cool, now you must try to serve it up nicely. You should remember that things can get messy, spills might occur, the wrong utensil might be used and that there could be a funny taste in your mouth afterwards. Sometimes what you have to say is not easy for the other person to swallow. Sure you could just sugar coat everything and make it go down easy, but even too much sugar will make you throw up.
There comes a time when you are dating someone when you have to decide to speak up or shut up, knowing full well that both options could lead to a break up. My theory is that if you have felt the others person tongue, you shouldn’t have to hold yours. You should be able to bring up any topic and know that it could be discussed, even if that means things might get uncomfortable or be a little awkward. Not every conversation had in a relationship is going to be a delicious Merlot; sometimes it’ll sting more like a shot of Vodka. But you should be able to talk to someone you love about anything, and if they don’t feel the same way maybe it’s time you order something new. The point is you should try to eat, drink and be merry; life gives us plenty to consume when we are in or out of a relationship. So grab a plate and dig into it.

-Too Tired to Get the American Dream

When was the last time you were in a bakery? Or a chocolate shop? Standing in front of the selection, looking at everything there is to choose from, trying to decide what looks best. Walking back and forth past the glass, imagining what will be most delicious. It can almost be overpowering, attempting to figure out the best choice. Sometimes it is hard to pick just one or two, and you begin to think you could take it all; you begin to want it all. You could always just take one of everything, eat until you are overly content and then regret it all an hour later. Then comes the recovery work out, an empty attempt to undo the damages. So all you end up with is extra calories and exhaustion from a post workout frenzy. What seemed like such a nice thing just ends up costing you and leaving you more tired then when you started out. If trying to decide upon a simple cookie or coconut crème truffle can possibly lead to this kind of trouble just think what the bigger issues could induce. Trying to decide upon whether to go for the extra hours at work, more minutes to study for class, more free time to connect with friends or more efforts committed to trying to build a relationship; sure we can have it all, but is having it all too much to handle?
Although the American Dream has been changed, modified and redone more times then Meg Ryan’s face it still does exist, and for the most part it still means having it all. These days it is just a little more personal and individual, but most people still have some semblance of a life they are trying to achieve. Chances are it is a life filled with occupations, obligations and lots of occurrences. At this point in time we are supposed to be focusing on academics. Pursuing a higher education is almost mandated upon us, it is built into our age appropriate American life so that it can lead us to the coveted American Dream. Last I checked though, college can be one long exhausting mess. With deadlines, due dates and daily journals it is far too easy to get lost inside of it. Then there are those of us who also have to feed our bank accounts, which is another thing that takes our time and can consume us. Even if the economy weren’t on the edge of destruction, it is still far too easy to get tired out from bringing in money. So with those two exhaustions taking up our time it is hard to fit in any other occurrences, either planned or unplanned. Sure it is important to prepare for the future and work towards our dreams, but are we going to be able to stay awake if we ever reach them? Sometimes it seems like we will be too tried out from working for it to ever have the chance to enjoy it.
Who said having it all was the most important thing anyways? I think going for a few things and having them be perfect is far better then going for everything and having it all be mundane. Maybe they were right when they said “less is more”, maybe the fewer things you have to worry about the better. I have found that getting everything you wanted, or coming close to that, can be more tiring then being without it. Inevitably there will be that moment, amidst the euphoria of living out your American Dream, where you begin to think what a nightmare it would be to lose it all and how tired you are from holding it together. Sure I have dreams, but I want to be awake to enjoy them, so I try to keep it basic. Who wants it all, when all you really need it love. That is the ultimate dream, isn’t it? Love is what gives you energy, makes you get out of bed in the morning. Love is what keeps you awake when all you want to do is pass out. So yes, we can have it all, but I can’t even keep a plant alive so having it all is not that appealing. I am aiming to have love, that one thing that makes you feel like you have it all.

-Guessing Who and Gaining Something New

Can you remember that game we use to play when we were younger? It was called “Guess Who” and the point was to figure out what card the other person had. So you would ask yes and no questions to try and eliminate the incorrect options. Does she have blonde hair? Does he have brown eyes? Is she wearing a hat? Does he have glasses? Eventually it would be narrowed down to just one, and you knew it was the one. You knew you had found the one and the game was over. Sadly dating and relationships are nothing like that, because even if you think you have found the one you can still end up losing.
I don’t like to equate dating or relationships to a game because then it sounds like there should be a winner or a loser. I make metaphors for dating all the time, but I don’t think there should ever be a sense of someone losing and someone winning. If it is a real relationship then both people involved are winning when things are good and losing when things are bad. The two of you go through the highs and the lows side by side. There might not be winning and losing but there is definitely gaining and missing. You gain knowledge about how to be a better person, how to be more responsible, how to manage time, how to grow up and grow with someone, how to communicate and how to trust. You miss things like the naivety of being a child, the relaxation of a simpler schedule, the part of you that never cared about Friday nights and sometimes you miss what is going on around you. The gaining and the missing, that is all apart of relationships; those things are built into what it means to have a lasting and meaningful romance. Those are accounted for, what isn’t expected is the surprises and the guessing. The Frisbee to the head, which is what you should really be looking out for. You can think that it is just another sunny day, but you have to remember that even sunny days have their problems and unexpected occurrences. Like Frisbees.
Before you can even get to the sunny days you have to start by finding someone. This involves a lot of guessing. Does he like me like me, or just like me? Is she really that bubbly or is she just nervous around me? Is he winking at me or is his contact dry? Are those really hers? You have to tread carefully here because one misstep and there is no recovery, sometimes you just have to move on. The thing that gets me though, is having to move on from a relationship when there was no misstep, when neither person did something wrong. How do we move on from that? When a relationship ends and there is no real reason, you are left with nothing but guessing. Guessing if a word meant more then it should have. Guessing if you should have smiled then and nodded there. Guessing if there was someone else or someone better? Guessing if you will ever get to see them again? If the last kiss was memorable? Not all of these questions are yes or no answers, but it doesn’t matter because you never get them answered. So there you are, playing “Guess Who” all by yourself trying to figure out why you are left alone when you are sure you had guessed the right one; so sure you had found the one.
There is no guessing when it comes to always being able to learn a lesson from a relationship, even if it had an unwarranted end. You are bound to walk away with some new knowledge. Whether you want to or not, you have undergone a learning experience. Is there any point in guessing if it could have gone on longer, or if you could have done something different? I guess I don’t know. But while I figure it all out I plan on playing some board games and asking some simpler questions. Anyone up for some Catchphrase?

-Get Into the Groove

With so many mysteries in the world it never makes sense to me why more people don’t dance. It is probably the easiest way to relieve stress, burn some calories and meet a bunch of new people. If you aren’t a clubhead then all you need is a good beat and your bedroom, or your car. Just make sure to keep your hands at ten and two while shaking your hips from three to nine. Dancing is just a good thing for the body. It helps your mind to calm down and your muscles to relax a bit. And don’t even try to give that excuse of not having any rhythm, because that is just a lie. Everyone has a rhythm, some are more in touch with theirs then others, but everyone has it inside of them. You could even take the situation off the dance floor and say that we all have a distinct rhythm that we live by, we are all putting out are own unique tune. Having so many resources available to us today to have music in our ears, in our heads, in our cars and in our phones, I think we might be losing our own beat.
Another great way of losing your own beat is by mixing your rhythms with too many others. Having downloaded one too many relationships lately and having all of them not make it into the top forty; I feel I should remix things up a bit. Having pounded my own drum for quite some time now and only having a greatest hits collection worse then Ashlee Simpson to show for it, I think now is the time to start working with Timbaland. Apparently everything he touches turns to gold; hell I would even work with Kayne, and he is the definition of obnoxious. The point is, I might need to start stepping to a different beat. Which makes me wonder are we ever really going to find someone to make music with, or are we destined to just settle for a few good duets?
During my last break up, or reestablishing of relational boundaries, I did receive a worthy piece of advice. Sometimes two rhythms come together, and sometimes they don’t. Which seems like a weak sentence, but if you listen to it enough times you can hear the deep melodies inside of it. Sometimes two people come together, and sometimes they don’t. We all have very busy lives, we all don’t have the time we need and so sometimes we can’t play as loud as we would like to; but when someone does hear us they can join our song. In my case I had one week of some of the best music I have ever made, but then we lost the flow. The beat was dropped, as was I, and the song ended. I would like to think I am smart enough to realize that had we continued playing it would have been forced harmonies and flat tunes, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss the high notes. With so many drummers, guitarists and lead singers out there with their own unique styles and rhythms; how do we find our real music man?
A good song can be so much more then just music. It can take you places, make you feel something you didn’t know you had inside of you and create memories that will last after the last note has been played. The strongest music is the kind that comes naturally and without too much preparation. Music, much like relationships, should never be overdone or overworked; the most important thing is that it comes naturally. Practice makes perfect but doing anything too often can make you lose the desire to do it at all. You have to work at it and put effort into it, but timing is everything when it comes to making music. If you rush something it can end up being premature and awful, just try to listen to The Killers sophomore album all the way through. No matter what kind of music you are making remember that it is not always up to us as to whether or not it becomes a long lasting symphony or just a one hit wonder, sometimes all we can do is listen and enjoy.

-Who Are You Wearing?

That is the question that scary woman on the red carpet always asks. Then whatever famous person she is gripping onto gives a reply, explaining how it is some fabulous piece that they just knew they had to have the moment they saw it. Said famous person probably spent weeks and weeks figuring out what to decide on and which one to finally pick, then right when they gave up all hope they saw it and everything just clicked. They knew before they even tried it on. They knew before they saw it reflected in a mirror. They knew it was the perfect fit because their instincts told them. That is what you should wear. That is what you should put on to look your best and feel you’re sexiest. Sometimes we get chances like that, those of us of a lesser celebrity stature. We too sometimes get to find the perfect thing to put on. I could be talking about those perfect pair of 511 Levi skinny jeans, or that vintage Christian Dior trench that was made for you, or that oversized grandpa sweater that hangs on you just right; or I could be talking about that special someone. Sometimes we have to ask ourselves who are we wearing.
Looking for the right person is a lot like shopping; it can be time consuming, exhausting, take longer then you expected and cost you a whole lot. When you get involved with someone at the beginning it is a lot like trying something on for the first time. You go to that certain place where the lighting is better then it should be, the mirrors are placed with strategic intent and if it all looks bad you can slip out easily. If it does fit nicely and feel good then you have to weigh the situation. Should you just go ahead and buy it? Can you afford it right now? Will it last you more then one season? Should you save up or do some comparison shopping? The last thing you want to do is make an impulse purchase; last time I checked you can’t just return a boyfriend. So if you decided the credit is good and the price tag is fitting you go ahead and buy it. Now you have to combine it with the rest of your wardrobe, creating new outfits and making sure it goes with more then just one thing. When you decide to date someone you have to make sure they can be for more then one occasion, you have to try and combine them with the rest of your life; you have to wear them into your life. Suppose you are already wearing the jeans of your life, paired with the shoes of your past the t-shirt of your future and a sweater threaded by your friends; finding someone to match with all of that is a tricky thing. Even Stacey and Clinton would have some troubles.
The point is we are wearing more then we realize. All of our past relationships, both good and bad, are still clothing us. When we wake up in the morning and stand in front of our closets we don’t realize everything we are putting on, we are dressed up in all of our past lovers. It could be a figurative button down gifted by an old girlfriend. It could be a metaphoric itchy turtleneck left by a bad boyfriend. It could be a shirt that is too tight now and reminds you of how trapped you felt. Or maybe it is that perfect little piece you leave hanging in the back corner, which you take out only sometimes because it still smells like the love that got away. We are wearing more then we think we are which is why we should really think about it before we try to get naked with someone. You can’t really be intimate with another person unless you trust them to take off all the clothes you put on and all the clothes that other people put on.
So next time you check yourself in the mirror before you leave the house, make sure you know who you are wearing; and what it means to really take it all off.

- How to Write Love
The other day someone asked me “how are you?”, and instead of saying the perfunctory response of “fine” or “great” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything at all. I was caught off guard; it was such an unexpected question. I guess it really isn’t that uncommon to be asked that several times a day, but this time there was sincerity and soul behind the query. Having misplaced my ability to bull shit this past summer and with no real desire to ever try to find it again, I wasn’t able to lie or muster up a smile. So I politely side stepped the question and shifted the conversation to a topic that was easier to navigate, something I knew would be simple to steer through; naturally we ended up talking about the importance of making sure your jeans fit you properly. So as I sat there, debating low rise versus skinny, I began to wonder why I wasn’t able to give a concrete answer to the commonly posed question. The obvious answer was, and is, that I was not fine or great. All things considered I am doing alright as a human. I just seem to be caught up in a stage of my life I have no idea how to handle. The real answer I would have liked to have given would have been “old” or “grown” or “scared as hell”, but I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it out loud. So instead I immersed myself in something I knew about, something I was familiar with, something I knew how to do; it seems to be human nature to be drawn towards things that are familiar and comfortable. That is why the fear of the unknown or the fear of trying something new is so common and so very powerful. I think it is not the actual attempt or event that scares us, but the results; we have no control over the results.
One of the smartest women I have ever encountered, who also happens to be one of my best friends, recently said that “if you want big love, you should be prepared for big loss”. As unsettling as that is to hear, it is nothing but the truth. Falling in love is not scary at all; it usually tends to be the opposite. The excitement and the passion, the new sense of purpose, the desire to be your best and of course the kisses. The kisses are key to falling in love. When all you can think about is the touch of their lips on yours, the brush of their chin on yours; you begin to know you are a member of the “Big L Club”. Suddenly song lyrics mean so much more to you, and you understand books better and you actually begin to appreciate the future. Often, while in the midst of our love induced euphoria, we do not realize we are suddenly on a blank page. Even when you do realize it, you pay no attention to it because you’re in love and it is strong enough to stop bullets. So you go about the rest of your life, the scripted parts; go to class here, fold clothes there, vacuum carpet then, wash this. I like the scripted parts, they are not always pleasing or the most fun, but at least I know what I am doing.
So I find myself in a place in my life where I have no idea what I am doing. I don’t know how to do this; I have no idea how to build a script around love, how to write it myself. Which is ironic considering I’m a writer. This type of writing is different though, it takes two authors working together, writing simultaneously. You need both pens, both creative ideas, two sets of styles; the both of you have to be writing in the same book. Sometimes one gets ahead of the other; one of you might skip a page or jump a line or maybe even spell something wrong, and that’s ok. The other one will either catch up or catch the mistake, the important thing is to keep writing. You have to keep writing, both of you have to keep writing in the book to figure out how it is going to progress. If you give up in the middle of it then you have no idea how the ending will be, and even if it sucks and doesn’t make the New York Times Bestseller list, at least you can say you wrote the damn book. You have to keep writing to get to the end, you just have to. If we have to write our own love, we should be prepared for bad reviews. The tricky thing is, there is never a good way of dealing with a bad review.

The New Kind of Double Major

There are all sorts of ways to measure how intelligent someone is. Check their movie collection. Check their closet. Check their bookshelf. And of course check their checking account. The last thing you want to do is measure the worth of someone by the score on some standardized test they did half asleep in a fluorescent filled room overwhelmed with a buzzing from the broken heater in the corner. Besides, why would you want someone who did well on a standardized test anyways; doesn’t that mean they are only standard? Call me crazy but I set my sights a little higher. I’m after something a little above status quo. Something that is wild and passionate and brighter then Nicole Kidman was in Moulin Rouge. Admittedly though, being on the hunt for my very own “sparkling diamond” has taken its toll. As we grow older, and the pile of responsibilities grows with us, some things are going to have to be pushed to the side. My first choice is academics. For pushing aside that is. Now I know that college is important and that it will benefit me the rest of my life; having said that, there are a hundred and one things that take precedent before it. How we can possibly be expected to: read everything that is assigned to us, all that we are suppose to research, the several papers a week we are suppose to write and all the studying meant for us, and still manage to exist in the outside world is beyond me. I am of the mind set that all that really matters is the piece of paper that is handed to us as we walk across the stage; which initiates our adventures into debt and taxes. So we do our best to keep up with the scholarly major we have chosen, but there are always the life majors we must worry about as well.
We have to major in friendship; no matter what you want to do in life you are either going to need friends to help get you there or friends to support you once you’ve reached it. Most of the time friendship is sort of an “easy A”; usually you just find the people who fit with you and then live happily ever after. You learn each others home work, study each other until you know all the material, research one another for a deeper understanding, write them into the story of your life; do not be fooled, a real friendship does require work. Friendships even have tests, hopefully not too often, but there are times when you have to use all the required knowledge to prove or pass on to the next section. We also have to major in living. Remembering to take time to go out and actually experience the world we are studying and preparing for. Sometimes the best way to learn about something is to just go out and try it. They say that works best when trying to learn and become fluent in a language; well we are on our way to becoming fluent in the language of grown up life. So it only makes sense to do a little downtown emphasis, to study up on the inflection of a night out, and of course brush up on are party dialogue.
But I think the biggest thing we have to remember to major in, is love. We are so quick to either push it to the side until we feel the timing is right and we can spare some time to study it, or we give up on it after a few failed quizzes and a couple bad grades. But love is the one subject that will always be there, just like the favorite book you come back to while on a much needed study break. How the world would come to a complete stop had it no love in it. It might take the most time and require the most research and be the most testing thing any of us will ever study, put there wouldn’t be books, poems, songs and movies devoted to it if it weren’t all worth it. There may not be a textbook on love, but that doesn’t mean it is worthy of a couple hundred volumes. Make sure to study it whenever you can, and write a little something of your own.

Trick Candles Can Be Tricky

Remember when birthdays were a big deal? When you counted down the days with anticipation and nervousness. When you spent an entire day just trying to figure out what the theme of your party should be? When choosing the correct birthday invitation could take an hour. When making up your wish list was as easy as flipping through the Toys’R’Us catalogue. Is that stupid giraffe even around still; I think he was put on the endangered animals list? Remember rushing to greet everyone at the door? Not only to say hello and get a big hug, but also to make sure they brought a present that was brightly colored and uniquely wrapped. When we were young our birthdays were like national holidays; because everyone in our world stopped and took a moment to recognize how special and amazing we had become. Getting taller. Gaining cheekbones. Filling out. Shaping up. Everyone was focused on you for one amazing day. And no party was complete with out a huge frosted cake complete with candles. Then you made a wish for something fantastic; except when you got duped into trying to blow out those damn trick candles. There you are trying to concentrate on wishing for the next Pokemon starter pack and the freaking things won’t even go out. So much for that wish coming true. But what do we wish for these days? Please let this job interview go well. Please let me not fail this exam. Keep me sane until the weekend comes. Let this person call me back. Let this date go well. Please let my passion return. Our wishes have transformed and our national holiday has been trampled on.
We are the candles now; we are the part of the party that doesn’t want to flicker out. Since life is becoming one big overwhelming, exciting, tragic, never ending party we have to try really hard to make sure we do not fizzle out and end up melting all over the frosting. Birthday parties use to mean something because it was one day a year that moved with rhythm, that was fast paced, that was exciting and slightly overwhelming; well welcome to life, everyday is like that now. Everyday is a struggle to just survive to the end; make sure to greet everyone, say hello to everyone you know and especially to those you don’t know, make sure everyone is comfortable and doing alright, make sure you yourself is doing alright, make sure everyone has a drink in their hand, make sure the table is set and do not forget to walk everyone to the door when they finally decide to leave. It is very easy for us to get knocked down and trampled on; it is so easy for us to lose our spark, for our passion to be snuffed.
We have to do whatever it takes to make sure we stay lit and that we don’t end up becoming nothing but the smoke lingering in the air while the party continues on. Since the speed of life is unforgiving and does not allow second tries we are forced into making every moment our best. We take a lot of hard knocks, and have to endure a lot of bad blows, things that should leave us a puddle of colored wax; but instead of staying snuffed out we have to find a way to get lit up again. We have to be trick candles; we have to make sure our spark doesn’t go out.
So life has become one long party; roll your eyes if you want, but no one ever said all parties were good parties. We are required to stay lit throughout it all, despite how many times we get blown out. Take a moment to regroup; whether you have to dance it out, spend the night in a club, garner some random kisses, go for a run, call up a friend or actually have some cake. Do whatever it takes to make sure that you get lit again. Trick everyone into thinking you are done, but then come back more brilliant then before.

Forget Spring, Apparently It’s All About the Fall

One thing I never understood, well, admittedly there are a lot of things I never understood, but what I really want to talk about right now is: who said spring is when romance blooms a plenty? Let’s examine this. Spring is when everything starts warming up again. The sun begins to flirt with us. The birds return happy and full of annoying song. Rabbits reappear, hornier then thou. Blue skies cover our heads. Grass shoots up faster then the average libido. Temperatures rise. Clothes become fewer. Everyone feels like taking it off and tying one on. In my opinion Spring is actually the whore of the seasons. Some would argue that Summer is the reigning Heidi Montag of the calendar, but I beg to differ. Summer is when you have the coveted “summer fling”, which on closer inspection can sometimes be a meaningful, if not geographically induced, relationship. Summer is when you want someone reliable to go to parties with, to beaches with, and to the occasional summer blockbuster with. So you probably won’t be pen pals or stay in touch while in your separate states; but hey, it was summer loving. Oh, Danny and Sandy. How you set such false expectations. So summer is clearly not the role model, but it is certainly not the slutty older sibling you try not to become. Winter is hard to be accused of anything but snowy and cold. Yes it is nice to layer up and look like an Eddie Bauer or Gap ad, but who wants to go through the hassles of trying to impress someone new when any skin exposed to the weather is suspect of becoming more flakey then John Mayer after a “stage break”. So that leaves us with Fall; the quiet, underestimated, often overlooked season. Sure there are pumpkins, skimpy outfits, candy and good food to be had by all; but there is also the hope of falling into something good. Maybe even something so great and amazing that it could keep you warmer then that Venti Peppermint Mocha(extra whip) from Starbucks all winter long. Fall gives you the chance to cover up just enough to look proper, and yet still show off enough shape to turn a head or two. Good, deep colors accompanied with good, deep conversations. Cool, gentle breezes that make you want to snuggle up with someone who is cool and gentle. Leafs being brave and letting go of what they were holding on to so tight, and finally letting go and just going with it all.
Maybe we could all learn a lesson.
It is time to let go of whatever was holding us back, or from whatever we are holding on to. Maybe we should release it, give the next thing a chance and just let ourselves get carried away. Even if we don’t know what the next thing is, we should give it up; at least then our knuckles can go back to normal color and we can breathe deep again. There is so much to be said for falling into something new, something unknown. Maybe even something that is scary and foreign. Because that is what it feels like; falling, it can be both tempting and treacherous. There is possibility; big, wild absurd amounts of possibility. Things so good and so pleasing, that you forget to care if you wake up before the sun does. Things so wonderful and inspiring, that you pay no attention when you start seeing your own breath in the air. Things so careful and so delicate, that the thoughts of them keep you warm and comfortable all day long. So, we can continue to hold on and tremble in the wind like the stubborn leaf that won’t let go, or we can give in to whatever comes next and open up to the idea of falling into something great. It’s that simple, and that hard. I hope you chose to face whatever is next with an easy spirit and a hopeful smile.
Plus there are always Venti Peppermint Mochas to help you survive and get through it all.

Birthday Parties, Exams and Final Laps

-Hey it happened. It actually happened. The end of the school year snuck up and pulled down all of our pants. Then it put its leg behind all of us and knocked us over. So now we are sprawled out on the ground with our jeans around our ankles, which is never a good position to be in. Trust me, it just ends up badly. We are in a predicament; blindsided, caught off guard, and unable to stand correctly. The end of another school year is here and no one is really ready for it. Sure we are ready on some levels. No more stupidity from the extra tall simians living on your floor. No more evil looks and snide smiles from the poodles and yorkie dogs living down the hall. The chance to get away from the plastic cliques and drama hungry groups that surround us. No more passive aggressive, gray hair inducing herds of people walking around. No more NorthFace junkies. No more daily struggle between the Knoll and Commons. No more last minute papers and completely forgotten reading assignments. No more fruit smeared on the walls. No more eating by someone else’s hours. I wish I could say that there will be no morning early mornings and late nights, but who are we kidding. We are trading in reading textbooks for making big bucks. What do we have waiting for us once we return to all of our respective states and places? Jobs that we can not stand, do not want and will not pay enough. Responsibilities forced upon us, big ones that weigh way too much to hold on our own. Families that love us but have no idea how to handle us, communicate to us, appreciate us, support us or even how to be there for us; but I think they are trying really hard. Friends and siblings who no longer know who we are or what we are.
That is no ones fault, it just happens. We go out into separate worlds and come back changed and molded and transformed. With brand new scars and bullet holes, and nice shiny band-aids to cover them all with. Mine have Batman on them, he is the best. Although that IronMan movie was pretty sick. But I’m retro. See, right there; something new that you might not know about me. Our lives change on the half hour, every thirty minutes we are new and changed. Sort of like tanning, you have to flip over otherwise you will end up getting burned. But thirty minutes happens so often, you couldn’t even make cookies in that amount of time, or get through an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. You could watch Samantha Who though. At least she had amnesia and gets to be new and it’s accepted, we have to return back and just fall into the routine. Which is madness because we are all just getting back from war. That is what a college year is like. It’s like going over seas and coming back changed, and not always for the good. A word can make you think of an inside joke. An alarm clock can make you think it’s time for class. An entire day can be thrown off because you didn’t have to sit at a desk. Plus there is no way to explain what it was like “over there”; it’s awful and gut wrenching and blood curdling and exhausting and brilliant and wonderful and you don’t want to go back to being a civilian. You want the battle, the smell of the gun smoke and the sound of the artillery going off around you; and least you now know how to fight that battle.
So we are about to be reintroduced into out natural habitats, and I don’t think we are ready. But I have noticed a few things; the end coming is not always a bad thing. Well it is, but it has some good things inside of it. First the end makes you realize what really matters. All of this academia, yea, that needs to go. Seriously! College was created and is still happening only to get us ready for the real world, if you happen to get an education along the way well then more power to you. But if you seriously think that we are here to garner some knowledge, you need to up your caffeine dosage. Classes are only important if you want them to be, or if it is has to do with you career. What matters are the people who make you want to get up in the morning and leave your not-so-comfortable school issued mattress. Even if the damn thing is full of springs and possibly the remains of a small animal, it can be more appealing then the outside world. So please remember to remind those who get you out of the crapmatress that they mean something to you. I was sitting in my exam and I realized that I would not benefit from knowing who wrote in iambic pentameter during the Renaissance or who thought the Italian sonnet was the worse one. Which is dumb because Italians are amazing in everything. What matters is people. And the fear of losing them is not a bad thing. I know it can be overwhelming and make you feel like a zillion emotions are about to explode out of you, but that is good so embrace it. Worrying about losing or missing someone is an amazing thing, because there is something to miss. There is good to be missed. So whether you are standing in a birthday party thinking about who really matters in your life, or sitting in an exam wondering how you are going to live without the people you love, or running your last lap on the track thinking of who you want to have walking beside you; always remember that I am doing my best to love you and be there for you.

-Breaking and Entering

We are nothing but a bunch of criminals. We parade around as if we are clean and polished; but really we are dark and twisty. We drive are pretty cars and pick the lint off of our expensive clothes but really we are nothing but common crooks and average vandals. We aren’t exactly stealing babies, knocking over banks, or throwing grenades at the people who walk too slowly in front of us; but when it comes to relationships we are cold blooded killers. We play it closeto the vest. We compete to see who we can get the most out of. We trust fewer people more and more as we grow older and know more and more people the older we get; the math doesn’t really add up. To be honest I guess it is better that we break the laws of the social world as opposed to breaking the laws of the judicial world, but there are still repercussions to both. We break into relationships and enter into conversations that we know are illegal and bad for business, but we still cross the line and do it anyways. We break all kinds of rules and laws in the hopes that it will get us to a real relationship. No pain, no gain. No crime, no prime. Prime friendships that will help us survive and continue to make it in this world. So we break laws and perform acts of criminality, but you could call them all crimes of passion. Crimes for the greater good.
Let’s pretend that relationships are like houses. Houses are safe and homely and tend to be inviting. Warm and cozy in the winter and cool and chilling in the summer. Everyone wants a house. And when we get our houses we protect them. Locks on all of the doors. Shutters for the windows. We don’t go to bed unless we check to make sure we closed the garage door. Some of us even go through the trouble of adding security systems. Some of us just buy loud yappy dogs. To each their own. Our houses are very important to us, so we protect them. We don’t want just anyone coming into them. We worked hard to achieve them and make them our very own, so it makes sense to protect them. The feeling of hurt and despair and violation when someone breaks into them or enters into them without permission or with malicious intent, it’s overwhelming. A good, solid kick and the door is knocked in. A stone or hammer and the glass is shattered. Houses are broken into everyday. No one likes to think about how vulnerable they really are, how unprotected or exposed they are.
There is more then one type of breaking and entering. The first kind is done by bad people who want to get into to your house to steal your childhood collection of Pez dispensers, your coveted dollar bill signed by Tyra Banks, your grandmother’s recipe for tomato gravy and all the valuables that make you who you really are. That type of breaking and entering is awful, rotten and just uncalled for. The second kind of breaking and entering is needed sometimes; this kind is done by firemen, policemen, and our friends who have spare keys. Would it make any sense at all for the fireman who is about to save your wailing, blubbering self to ask permission to enter your house? Would you want the police man to pause and ask if it was ok to break down the door that is keeping him from saving you from the burglar? Do you really want your friends, the ones who love and care for you, to ask if it was ok to come in and offer up some advice or help? Sometimes we need people to break into us, to come crashing and entering through our doors, windows and walls.
Both kinds of breaking and entering make you feel vulnerable and insecure; but when it is done by people who love and want to protect you, it just makes your house stronger in the long run. So keep up with checking your locks, checking your windows and making sure the garage is closed. Go ahead; buy a couple more yappy dogs. Just remember that sometimes we can trap ourselves in our houses and we need someone to come and break us out of them.

-This Business of Seriousness

When so much can happen in such little time and everything can move so fast
that you don’t even realize just how fast you are going down the rabbit role, one should be careful. Social circles, that is such a stupid name for them, they are more like social holes. Very similar to rabbit roles. Or more like hills. Social circles are more like downward slopes covered in ice and then sealed over in petroleum jelly. Once you are on it, there is no getting off; but if you hang on to the right persons hand it can end up being a ride and not a terror. The question is: are you slipping without grace or sliding without a care. Nothing is taken lightly anymore. Nothing is casual anymore. Even casual Friday has been morphed into just another way to out do each other. Everything is jam packed, full to the brim, overflowing with action and intent. Our daily lives have more explosions, chases, heartbreaks, and cliff hangers then the love child of a Jason Statham action movie and “Gossip Girl”. Seriously, this stuff couldn’t be written if we tried. No one could ever try to record and pay attention to everything that goes on inside of the coveted social slope. No two people are ever on the same level and no two people are ever seeing things in the same way. I do believe in closeness, truth and confidentiality among friends, but we are twentysomethings and eventually it always comes out. The truth, the real intentions, the story behind what was said and the seriousness of the moment; it will always be made known.
Love is serious. Friendship is serious. Family is serious. School is serious. Work is serious. Sex is serious. Truth is serious. We are very serious people. Even when it comes to the little things, we either ignore the full extent of what is going on or blow them up and make them bigger. The only thing around here that is light is the cream cheese on your breakfast bagel while you rethink what happened the night before, the sun shining through the classroom window while you try to process what is going on in your life, and the beer you drink at the end of the day to try and cope and escape from all the seriousness. If you want light, or get some crappy ice cream substitute. This is seriousness business; but we have good intentions some of the time. We tend to be serious about who we love the most, because love is the craziest force known to man, it kind of makes Amy Winehouse look like Little House on the Prairie. And we are very serious about who we call friend and who is trying to be friends with our already established friends. Friends are the ones who are there after the love goes south, so we tend to protect them like gold found in the west. Our family business grows even more serious the farther away we get because we aren’t there to deal with it. Apparently school work is serious too, but I’m really not the authority on that. Work is serious because it gives us money, and money leads us to higher levels of freedom and, unfortunately, higher levels of seriousness. Sex is the most serious of them all, except love but love should really be a part of sex. Sometimes is takes a lot of times before we realize sex is serious; like I said nothing is casual, even the condom box says it’s for serious screwing. Truth is the silent serious, because we never like to speak about it. And on rare occasions when someone does talk about it, they get shushed. Truth is a serious, silent thing; kind of like social cancer, it just hits without any warning.
This is a very serious world, where very serious things happen every day. There is no time off or sick day when it comes to the soberness of every day life. Just try to make sure you are holding the right peoples hands, and that you have a smile on your face because this is seriously never going to stop.

-Should You Open The Door? (Knock on This)

There are times in life when we are placed in front of doors. When we over sleep and then are faced with the closed door of our classroom. When we are summoned to the back of the store and nervously wait outside the manager’s door. When we go to pick up a date for the first time, and nervously wait after knocking on the door. After coming back from the grocery store weighed down with more bags then we thought we had money to afford, and can’t even see the doorknob due to the bags. Waiting for the driver to unlock the passenger side door. Standing outside the door of the cleaners before it opens to insure we get our clothes back. Sometimes it’s a matter of whether or not we can reach the doorknob. It might just be that you are carrying three bags full of Ramen, two bags full of EasyMac and another bag containing a month’s supply of Kool-Aid Jammers. Other times it’s a matter of not being the one to open the door. Sometimes it needs to be unlocked for us or opened up for us. Trust me when I say that the people who work at the cleaners will not find it funny when you try to unlock the doors yourself. And the police definitely do not find it funny either. Despite locks and deadbolts and the possibility of alarms going off, what keeps us from opening the door? Sometimes nothing is in our way; it’s just us and the door, but we can’t seem to turn the knob.
Wouldn’t it be great if life was just like a game show? Not the game shows of today where people eat the brains of otters or have to slap their own mother just to stay on the island and have the chance of winning the suitcase that will grant them immunity. I’m talking about the old game shows, the ones that set the standard. A standard that I doubt will ever be met again. Just imagine being faced with some huge situation. Really hard for a twentysomething in college to imagine, I know, but think really hard. Big, huge decision in front of you and then three mystery doors are placed in front of you. Each door is an option for the problem at hand, but you don’t know which one is the best. So now it’s about luck and strategy. But even if you picked the wrong door you still get a consolation prize. Maybe not as nice as the five day four night stay on St. Tropez island, but a year supply of packaged meat is also tasty. That is a lot of cookouts and barbeques. And who’s to say that the cookouts wouldn’t end up being better then the island. The island might have angry locals, or bad weather or rebellious crocodiles. Or bird flu. Maybe the consolation prize is actually the better one. But we are never able to know because we never get to open both doors. One and done, hope for the best.
To own up to the truth we would have to admit that most of the doors we end up in front of we either slowly move towards or run to; but there are times in life when the door is placed right in front of us. Almost landing on top of us or knocking us over. Then what do we do? It would be awesome to just kick it in like John McClane or Sydney Bristow, but there is something to be said about taking things slow. Maybe we should approach the doors like the people on CSI, with tiny little flashlights and oversized Q-Tips. There should be a way to have a bouncer standing outside the door of your life; some big ex-thug named Skull or Bloodknuckle. Then he could decide who gets to come into your life, sort of like a filter to your social circle. But ex-thugs cost money and want a lot of time off, so that leaves us by ourselves, just us and our doors. It would be pointless to live in fear of what could be behind the door, and a lot of time would be wasted debating whether or not to open it. So let’s just do it, let’s open it. Break the door down, kick the door in and bust right through it. Grand prize, constellation prize, no prize; the point is that we would be moving forward. Forward motion is very good in life, so don’t knock it until you try it.

-What Am I In Your Phone?

What is it about getting a phone call that can send us into a frenzy of action and anxiousness? Who could be calling me? What could they want? Was I expecting a call? Am I late for something? Has something happened? Does somebody need me? It’s hard to put the cellular sensation that flows through our personal antennae when we get a call onto paper, I guess if it could be written down we would all still send each other letters. Since post is so very post, the era of the phone is here to stay. There is a reason that the President has about four phones on his desk, it makes him look better. Phones are a big part of looking bigger then you are. Batman had the BatPhone, Ethan Hunt had the exploding phone, and I, well, I want the iPhone. The feeling of receiving a call is similar to hearing those three little words, no not those ones, the other three little words. You’ve got mail! With just those words, a person can feel needed and included. The same applies when seeing that someone has posted on your wall or spent the time to slap a bumper sticker on your page. Granted, the later options could have been done out of pure boredom, which is why receiving a call can be so much more satisfying. Calling someone is a premeditated action, it’s thought out and the most efficient way to reach them. Getting a call and answering a phone makes you seem wanted, important and a little sexy. The obsession starts young; when we are given PlaySkool phones to pretend that we are busy spelling the word “dog” and that we only have a minute to talk. Even if our vocabulary was limited we still didn’t have time to use it all. Then it progresses to who gets to answer the house phone, many a time did I get trammeled in that ringtone rat race. Finally, when the Earth has spun around enough times, we all get our very own cell phone. Now we can pay people absurd amounts of money while all we do is perform a function even parrots can do; Paulie wanna pay my phone bill? But, pay we do, because without the phone the universe would cease to exist and not even free food from the Grand Lux Cafe could make it better.
As much as we all complain about texting charges, getting calls at inappropriate times and having to reset the alarm clock function; none of us would actually want to relinquish our right to bear phones. It is so much more then a device, a fashion accessory or a way to distract ourselves during Ancient World History; our cell phones have become our way of staying together. With a lot of the people we love the most miles and states away, at different colleges, different jobs, and different places in life, we need our phones to keep us connected with them. A lost call might as well be losing a friend. A signal breaking up, could be the breaking up of two people. Since we are no longer able to be in each others zones in person, we rely on our phones to be in the zone and connect us to them. I could suffer through not having internet, not being within walking distance of a Starbucks, or being banned from H&M, but the second the U.S Cellular satellites fall from the sky is the second something wicked this way comes.
Glamour and novelity aside, phones are important to us because they do more then combine cameras and MP3 players into one slim package; they keep us close to the people who are most dear to us. It’s not always about answering to talk, sometimes its important to get the call and just listen. To hear what your best friends fashion faux pas inclined professor had on this morning. To know what happened to your older brother on his first date post nasty break up. To help your mother understand why it is a big deal that Meredith is finally choosing to stay with Derek. To sort through the rubble of your sisters decision making skills. To wish your favorite cousin happy birthday. To explain to your dad why getting a 75 percent is the new 95 percent.
So whether you rock the Juke, carry the KRZR, have a Chocolate in your pocket, slice with the RAZR, talk on a Blackberry or hold an Envy; the main point is, pick up the phone, listen to what they have to say, and stay connected.

-Can You Give Me Something to Sing About?

No matter where you reside, you are most likely surrounded by noise, it doesn’t have to actually come from humans, but there is a good chance that you are surrounded by noise. The hum of the fluorescent lights above you, the panting of your dog sitting at your feet, the people walking by your door, the cars speeding past on the street outside, the stupid bird that won’t shut up, the clicking noise that comes from your refrigerator, the yelling of vulgarities from the people two doors down and of course the amazing techno beats being pumped into your ears by your ipod. From the moment we wake we are surrounded by noise, the sounds of everyday life and all that goes on inside of it; but we are also under the constant spell of hearing “the noise”. “The Noise” (which I will no longer put quote marks around because I expect you to keep up and which is not to be confused with the next teen horror movie stolen from Japan)is the sounds that are continuously jamming on and on inside of our heads. The pesky, throbbing, pounding that is always in your head; going on even when you try to sleep, even when you try to focus on work, even when you try to submerge it in some sick beat from Miss Minogue or le Justin. The sounds that wind through your brain screaming like a kid on a roller coaster, but the ride never stops. Sometimes the sounds are so loud and overpowering that it seems like everyone around you is speaking in a foreign language and all you hear is the radio station inside your brain. Is it to anyone’s surprise that sometimes the only thing we can do to deal with it all is break out in dance and possible song? It usually ends up being more of a raging scream rather then a melodic sing-a-long because it would be impossible to stay in tune with a zillion songs at once. And that’s what it sound like; a zillion things at once.
I realize that I haven’t really spent much time on what the noise actually consists of, or what is being sung inside each of our heads, and frankly that’s because I don’t want to. We all know what I’m talking about, the two zillion things that we are constantly worrying about, focusing on, thinking over, planning out, imagining if, holding onto, and sorting through. The brain should be organized like a juke box, everything sorted into nice little categories with cute little white labels. That way nothing is ever out of place or inappropriately played, no random Timbaland when you really need some Red Umbrella. It would be great if our brains could be sorted like that, then we would just be able to decide what we think about and when. Ok for the next forty minutes I’m going to read this textbook, some Time To Study would go nicely so I’ll just press C23. Maybe later I’ll try to sift my way through my battlefield of a love life; some Try To Think It Through would fit the mood, E12. Sadly our brains are not nifty little machines like jukeboxes. The metaphor that describes the noise better is something like this, take fifty different Bose radios turned on full blast and send them down a garbage disposal. Or imagine an ipod shuffle personified and on forty hits of acid. Too much noise to actually hear anything. That last sentence makes sense, just think it over.
What does clear the noise a little, or make the volumes dial down, is a cup of mindblowingly good coffee. Being engulfed in a hug from someone you adore. Doing favorite tv show marathons with someone you love. Cooking in the kitchen with songs from the seventies blasting in the background. And, of course, lots and lots of clothes, good friends, and remixes. Jacques lu Cont. Paul Van Dyk. Paul Oakenfold. Benassi.

-Why Is The Picket Fence White?

We all work very hard at maintaining some level of dignity and composure. All of us that is except for 86.3 percent of college males; everyone else though tries to have some dignity surrounding them. Trying to look like you didn’t walk out of a trash bin or that you fell out of a magazine ad; trying to look good without looking generic. Trying to be educated and be able to hold intelligent conversations; being able to talk about more then Halo or the size of your anatomy. Trying to be well balanced and cultured; knowing about the lingering effects of Macy’s taking over Fields, the political climate of Cuba and just who exactly is pregnant in Hollywood. Trying to have some resemblance of a love life; actually talking to the cute people who work in the mall or hand us our caffeinated drinks, being so bold as to invite someone to sit with you and getting some. Trying to be as fit as possible without stupidity; avoiding things made in dining halls, not having your gym membership card get lost in the land of library cards and spontaneous dance parties in the bathroom that prove we we’re sexy and know how to shake it. Once we get into the habit of doing these things or developing some form ritualistic routine, the inevitable question comes; just who exactly are we making good for?
Naturally we would love to say that we do it to ourselves for ourselves by ourselves, but since we don’t live in a suburb of one and since we are influenced by those around us, we have to admit that community plays are part into it. Our neighbors and fellow block party attendees do tend to shape and influence us, even if we purposely try not to fall under their influence. By claiming they have no effect on us, they have affected us.
The part of us that wants to never give up the city skyline and great cuisine of the metropolis and its surrounding areas to live in the country just so we are alone says that we do what we do so that we won’t be alone; we do it to ourselves so that we’ll have neighbors to talk about it with. Apartment buildings are kind of the most brilliant thing ever; they keep you surrounded by people you don’t know, but yet you are never alone. You are in the heart of an impersonal personal space, solely surrounded by other strangers. How could we as humans function if we did not have someone to tell everything to, we need our people, our friends, our neighbors so that we can tell them what happened and listen to what happened without us.
So here’s the ugly truth, no man should ever wear Ugg boots. Ok, that’s not really it. The real truth is that Crocs should be outlawed for men, women and children. There’s just no excuse for that, seriously! Since when did we become too lazy to tie our shoes or actually put shoes on, come on America, Europeans are laughing at us. Snickering at us while smoking their skinny cigarettes and wearing their skinny jeans, not cool. The truth about why we want white picket fences and why we work so hard to make ourselves the best version we can be, it’s because we don’t want to live in our houses alone. We can work really hard to have the mansion with the three car garage, even have three cars to go into it, but it’s not worth anything if only we see it. We want someone who will appreciate the fence, the yard, the landscaping, the matching shutters and doors; we do for ourselves because it is gratifying, but self gratification pales in comparison to compliments from someone else. So, we keep our flowers trimmed just the way we like them, we wipe down our Venetian blinds to keep the dust off, and we sweep our porches so they look inviting; all in the hopes that someone will come along and appreciate them just as much as we do.

-Did you pass the test?

There is an unspoken test that we all have to take everyday. It starts when we wake up and we put our pencils down when we lay down to end our day. There is no way to study for it, there is no way to cheat on it, there is no secret acronym to help you pass it, and there is no way of rescheduling. Usually we don’t even get to see our score. Everyday is a test of whether or not we follow the rules and stay inside the lines. There are so many rules and laws put on us and so many that we have to memorize and learn that we are all lawyers. Harvard looks like kindergarten compared to everyday life. There are rules when we buy our groceries; let the person with fewer items go ahead of you. Rules for buying clothes; never go shopping by yourself, it will end badly. Rules for speaking; if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all, only talk when spoken to first, and kind words attract kind people. Then of course there is the golden rule; we speak English in America. Okay. So that is not the “golden rule”. The real golden rule; safety and courtesy never take a holiday. This is a mere sampling of what we are supposed to follow and abide by everyday. How can we be expected to remember things like birthdays, wedding anniversaries, due dates, lunch dates, the annual sale at Barney’s and what time we are suppose to pick grandma up from the airport if we are all preoccupied with making sure we are following the rules. We have rules placed on us by society, the judicial system, and ourselves. But, let’s be honest, we almost always break the rules we put on ourselves. I will not buy that pair of jeans; now there are two pairs in your closet. I will not have another drink; you woke up in a stranger’s bed. I will not go to YouTube or Facebook while doing homework; we all fail at that one. I will not pick up my phone; now you’re listening to your sibling complain while reading this. I will not stay in this relationship; are you still in the relationship?
The rules of a relationship actually start way before the relationship is even thought of. We have rules of attraction, which if followed correctly will bring you to the next level; the rules of dating. If the rules of dating are not broken then you get to the rules of exclusivity and, if you are lucky enough to pass that back sweat inducing exam, you finally arrive at the rules of a relationship. Hurray and good for you; your life is now nothing but hugs and puppies. If you are able to follow all the rules, which are innumerable, unwritten and made up on the spot sometimes; why do we fear being single? Anyways. There are rules like the “zip code rule”, the “spring break rule”, the “work spouse” rule, the “it was only once rule”, the “I-was-too-drunk-to-rememb

er-rule”, and the infamous “We-were-on-a-break-rule”. Stupid Ross. And since the judge we have to face is the other person in the relationship and the jury tends to be their best friends, we usually end up screwed. Do we follow the rules because they are there, or because we want to? The rules do provide stability, even if they suck. We should follow some rules, since we do tend to break our own all the time; but does it make sense to let someone else’s rules dictate our relationships?
For the most part, we all have a general consistency when it comes to the rules. Even if we never speak of them or mention just how powerful they are. They are there to give some structure and some rough lines. The rules are to life what the green straw is to a Starbucks drink; understated, quietly powerful, only noticed when it’s gone and needed to make it complete.

-Do you hear me now?

Growing older brings all sorts of things that are unpleasant and stressing. We have to figure out how to pay bills online. We learn to function on a total of two hours of sleep. We discover just how much caffeine a body can handle without our hearts bursting through our polos and our sweaters. We figure out how to manage workloads and deadlines, how to make the best of group projects. We navigate the choppy waters of self esteem and post acne outbreaks. There are a lot of benefits to becoming older though. Getting to have credit cards. Making our own schedules. Getting to have power lunches and power naps. The incredible ability to drop as much money as we want in any store we want. One of the most interesting things that comes with growing older is stress; and figuring out how to deal with it. When stress hits there are infinite amounts of ways to deal with it. Killing 820 calories on the elliptical. Watching half a season of your favorite show. Filling your lungs with nicotine goodness. The less attractive option of getting blitzed and making out with inappropriate people. Or the original way of making stress go away: karaoke. Karaoke is the good ole’ fashioned way of relieving stress and having a great time with some good friends; but like anything else, there is a right and wrong way of doing it. No one really expects for someone to get up on the ego-defying stage and belt out a tune worthy of a Grammy and a full fledged entourage. Karaoke is about giving stress the shake off and showing life that you still have some life in you. If you are going to go, then go big. Get up on the stage and let loose with whatever song you so chose to do. Please don’t get up there and sing through half clenched teeth while standing there motionless staring at the screen as the words appear. The point is not to worry about whether or not your voice sounds like a cow being put through a wood chipper; the point is to get noticed for having a fun time. The karaoke stage is a place to communicate what is really going on. Heartbroken, sing some Pat Benatar. Relentlessly in love, sing some Olivia Newton John. Pissed off, sing some Rolling Stones. Of course there are always the classics; Blondie, Beatles, anything from the seventies and “Why do you build me up butter cup baby?” So if we can get up in front of strangers and be honest with them, then why can’t we be direct and forward when we aren’t on stage?
Somewhere a scientist got paid to figure out where the majority of stress came from; he said that after years of study he concluded that most stress comes from miscommunication. Is that really such a problem for us? We tell people how we want our food. What size we want our clothes. What color we want our hair. How fast we want our car. How many seats we need at our table. We vocalize when we hate the weather. When we can’t stand our government. When we want more options. And of course when we are tired. So how come we never say what is really on our minds? We go through everyday thinking of things that we would like to say to fully express what is going on, and yet we just keep it in and gather them all up. We have mental closets full of sayings and expressions we will never try on or wear out. But what keeps us from being direct? As children we are taught to be careful and mind what we say, we have to be taught because we are born without verbal filters. Then as we enter middle school and high school we become masters of passive-aggressive verbal warfare. We can make people cry by complimenting them, if it is done correctly. Now that we are out of high school and into the majestic real world we have all been waiting for, how come we are still relying on passive-aggressive tactics to express ourselves? Are we that scared of fully becoming adults and responsible citizens that we hang on to this one last means of adolescence? Real grown ups don’t hold back, and especially when it comes to telling us what to do. They can step all over peoples toes and not worry about it. They can yell and kick and scream to get what they want from their employees or whoever works below them. Is the next generation too bashful or concerned with feelings to be direct?
There are those amongst us who not only express directly but take it to a whole new level, and that level would be called annoyance. Being direct and being a blunt asshole are two very different things, the line is thin and long, but the line between them does exist. Some finesse and proper thinking through of things is needed before shooting off your mouth. Being direct is not about overstating, reiterating or saying completely rotten things. Being direct is about putting an end to passive-aggressive manners.
Not only our we PA players with others, but we are passive-aggressive to ourselves as well. We can make sense of everything in our head, and rationalize all our actions to the voices in our heads. Then why do we struggle and fumble for words when we have to make sense to others, to those who are asking the real questions. We are masters at hitting ourselves on the back of the head and then asking “where did that come from?” It’s time that we all start listening to our Jiminy Crickets and speak up and speak out. Since life and growing up is not about things becoming easier or simpler, it is time to tie our own shoes, button our own coats, zip our own flies and face problems head on. Belt out a tune. Conversations, like anything else, do have a natural rhythm or tune to them. So when we decide to push things underneath the carpet of our brains, we screw up the pleasant noise. Or we decide to withhold our solo until we are in the company of our friends and not the local critics. But life is about singing, and saying what is really on your mind; always being able to hit the right note or hold it for three measures is really impossible, but at least we are singing. Making noise.

-Is there enough water?

So everyone keeps warning me about the earth and how it is destined to explode one of these days, I don’t pay much attention to them. I acknowledge that things are getting more intense, summers hotter and winters colder, but maybe the weather is just trying to keep up with us. We seem awfully concerned with the polar caps while we pay no attention to our own limits as humans. The ice is melting! The sun is exploding! The koala bears are revolting! How’s abouts we focus on our fellow man, hmmmm? How come no one is paying attention to the fact that we are becoming more and more of an isolated society? We are quickly on our way to becoming a bunch of islands, and I do not mean geographically. Even if all the sea levels are rising and the oceans are closing in, who cares? Who doesn’t enjoy time on the beach? What I mean is that we are all becoming soloists, we are all building are own private island with very elite guest lists.
It is not so much that man has given up caring or trying to do well to one another, the demographics are just becoming smaller. It used to be that everyone helped everyone and everybody cared for everybody. Today everyone is looking out for their own kind; no one seems to want to branch out. Is everyone becoming a one-genre type of person? This pass weekend I was on a bus more often then a freshmen checking their Facebook account; and what I noticed was unsettling. There were no acts of violence or menacing persons, each route was filled with caring people, to people such as themselves. It is sad to say that once someone figures out their place they tend to only care for people on the same step of the social ladder they are on. This whole thing sounds like high school. There is that old saying “you are who you were in sixth grade”; well that seems to be broken because “we are who we were in sophomore year”. Does high school have such a lasting effect on us, does it mess us up that much to the point that we really never leave it?
If on the rare chance that the clouds are becoming giant gas bombs or that the sea animals are growing legs or that there is cancer in the coffee I’m drinking, I’m thinking we should all learn to play nice. What are the benefits of being an island, or being surrounded by people who are from the same coasts as you are? Remember how all those explorers went out and left their islands to find new ones, bigger ones, better ones? There is a lot to be said for exploring, for going on out uncharted territory. There are great big bunches of waters to explore and learn to navigate. We’ve have been swimming socially since we were in kindergarten, so why the sudden urge to be land lubbers? Everyone walking around with their matching people, forming unannounced gangs and posses. The groups wearing clothes all found in the same store, shoes bought from the same website and ipods branding in pockets like switchblade knifes. If ever there was dispute it would look like a modern version of the Jets and the Sharks; instead of blades it would be RZRS, instead of chains it would be ipod buds.
There is more than enough water and apparently everything is melting so there is more coming; so flush the toilet every time you use it, buy it bottled if you so chose and most importantly get out there and swim in it. Come on, the waters fine.

What do you see?

This past weekend I decided it was fitting to get outside and enjoy the weather; naturally I would need a good friend to accomplish this. After a few hectic texts I was on my way to enjoying the summer sky while walking the streets of the local downtown area. It just so happened that an Art Fair was going on. So as me and her walked the semi-crowded streets talking about sex and heartache, I also took in the works of art that surrounded me. There were stands of water colors, sculptures, abstracts, portraits, photographs, and a couple things that are yet to be categorized. While me and my companion agreed on the discussion topics, we found it hard to find a piece of art that we both liked. How could we be staring at the same thing and have two completely opposite opinions? Then I got to thinking; this goes beyond art, this is where life imitates art.
You know that couple you saw last week; the one holding hands and making you jealous? Well an hour later they broke up. That’s what I saw, that’s what I wanted to see. You might have seen them getting married and achieving white-picket-fence-happine

ss. We were looking at the same thing, but saw nothing the same. When you study a work done by Sydney Pollack do you see more then a bunch of drizzles and splatters; or do you see something created by a paint truck tipping over? Is it really a great masterpiece or just crap that is seen as a masterpiece? Is the Chicago skyline at night breathtaking or just a picture of two million strangers who would screw you out of a parking space? How can we as humans ever really be close to one another when none of us are seeing the same things?
Even something like the relationship between a father and a son; it could be seen as something drawn up by Da Vinci or something scribbled by El Diablo. Neither the son nor the father will ever be able to see the work through the others eyes, and words can not describe sensations; it will forever be interpreted differently. If one sees it has a masterpiece while the other wants improving, a crossroads of indifference is reached. Everyone knows not to add to a masterpiece but what happens when the opinion is mixed? None of us has the time or the energy to start a whole new picture; we barely have time to pick the next color. Are we fooling ourselves or just painting over the last mess with the new one?
Suppose we only get one canvas, and we have to fit everything on it; our focus can not be split everywhere, certain spots will be neglected at times. We can only paint so much at a time; if we try to do too much at once it will come out drippy and messy. There has to be a balance, a way to make solid confident strokes without leaving drips. Remember that as the artist we are responsible for the colors; learn which ones compliment each other, know which ones make black when mixed together, and know that a mess can be perceived as a beauty.

-How do you translate “goodbye”?

So everyone thinks that there are no upsides to death, but I think I found one. When someone dies; they are forever gone. Never to be seen of or heard from again. No chance of him or her popping up at a group interview with you, no way of bumping into them on the street, no case of accidentally dialing them up for a quick chat; when someone dies they are truly out of your life. I’m not pro-death or anything, but I’m just appreciating the fact that death is the only real way “goodbye” works. Think about all the times you said goodbye and then ended up seeing that person again. Sure years could go by and situations could have drastically changed, but you still see them again. Even if it is not face to face, you hear about them, or read about them; the world is big but not that big. Even when you try to deliberately get rid of someone, they have a tendency of coming back. Some people are like ugly boomerangs; you throw them and then they come back and hit you on the head. Others are like a Kennedy, forcing you to say goodbye before the really good parts.
When you are fortunate enough to see the end coming, and try to plan a goodbye that suits the situation, it is stranger then writing your own obituary. Okay, that was morbid. Planning a goodbye is stranger then Lindsay saying she wants to join a convent; is that better? Imagine telling someone, “I probably won’t see you again, but if I do the relationship won’t be the same, we might try to pretend it is, but who are we kidding; we had a good run, lots of good times and inside jokes, but now apparently the universe says we need to part ways”, yea saying goodbye totally covers that. Those last six words read as “b-u-l-l-s-h-i-t”. So communicating “goodbye” is no fun and nearly impossible, but what about when we don’t want to say it yet. Can we postpone it or just not say it and pretend it is not real then? I think that is too much like holding on to a corpse and saying it’s not dead. Or buying the Nun suit for Lindsay thinking it’s going to last. Goodbye is always there. It’s like the taxes of personal lives. If you avoid them the IRS will hunt you down and then you have to pay even more.
Maybe goodbye is not as powerful as its made out to be; it’s bark could be worse then it’s bite. The world lives with death and taxes and it still spins. The world has even learned to survive Lindsay Lohan. Goodbye seems like a piece of cake. A cake that is bitter and awful and tastes like moldy fungus; but still just a cake.
Madonna said there was no greater power then it, Humphrey Bogart said it without actually saying it, and too many people never had a chance to say it; goodbye. It’s unavoidable, but manageable. Painful but not terminal. So next time; give a hug, shake a hand, or lean in for the kiss and say goodbye.

-When is less really more?

With summer already upon us and the weather deciding to be outrageously hot at times, it is clear to see that summer fashion has hit us full force. On the days when the sun decides to make an appearance, so does many a scantily clad person. I understand the want to stay cool and prevent sweating out of your deodorant, but some people are abusing the less is more theory. Way too many muffin tops have already made an appearance this season, along with one too many pasty albino folk. I am all for feeling comfortable for who you are, honestly, but please refrain from forcing the rest of us to be comfortable with you. Tone it up, trim it down, tan it; and then show us what you got, in a modest kind of way. Everyone, no matter if you look like a Greek god or someone who enjoys Greek food, keep it classy. There are lots of ways to show the goods without actually putting them on display, leave something to the imagination. Making someone think is a lot sexier then making someone drool, things go farther when everything is not revealed at the beginning.

Clothes and how much to wear is a lot easier to navigate as opposed to knowing when to let it all hang out or cover it up verbally. No matter how close you are to someone or how much you love them, there is always that worry that saying too much will end up badly. And should you always tell it all the way, or is it something you reserve for special occasions. Constantly saying the cold hard truth will leave you cold hard and alone, sometimes you have to warm someone up with some good words. That way they know you are speaking with love, use a buffer. Like spring is to winter, you can not go straight from nine below to ninety degrees that would be disastrous. Not to mention that fact that sometimes the cold hard truth is the last thing that needs to be said, sometimes you just have to bask in good words.

Maybe the rules of summer styles do apply to verbal styles as well. Less can mean more when done properly. Even summer has the random cloudy, cold day. Soaking up good words is needed, but too much can get you burned. Hinting at what is good is much better then showing it off. So, this summer, lets try to use some discretion and remember to use our mouths carefully.

-Can I get that on the side?

Apparently there is a nation wide epidemic of picky eaters; no one orders their food straight off a menu, they all have to tweak it a little. They want the country salad; but without eggs, bacon, or cheese. Plus they want to sub the ranch dressing for the blue cheese dressing, and they are going to need extra. They need their chicken to be grilled, but not blackened, just lightly singed. And if the lettuce is not fresh then they do not want it at all. Picky eating habits aside, what would happen if this freedom of choice trickled into other parts of life?

When looking for a mate, you can not just order one up; you have to compromise and find something both tasty and healthy. Sure there are always going to be things that you wish you could substitute; more crunchies instead of twinkies, better listening skills with a side of wisdom, extra jokes. It seems we as a society are losing the ability to compromise. Not everything can be prepared just the way you like it, sometimes taking something “as is” is the only option. But there is much to be said for having something right of the menu, sticking with the original recipe. Complications are never something that needs to be encouraged, but messing with the original recipe is unnecessary complications. Things get risky and tricky when you try to make the buffalo burger into the American burger; the meat could be under cooked, the sauce might not blend with the cheese and the toppings could roll off, leaving you with a dilapidated burger that no one wants.

And no more of the on the side business either; what is that about? You think just because it’s not on the plate that it is not going to affect your waistline? Own up and put it right on top of your main course. If you order the healthy chicken sandwich with two sides of mayonnaise, you are not doing anyone any favors. Just because you put a problem to the side of everything you think it goes away, hell to the no. It is still there affecting your mental waistline, adding more weight onto your already busting beltline. Take it all at once so you can digest in one fell swoop. One side is another way we lie to ourselves.

So let’s try to embrace the beauty that is the original menu item, lets have a new appreciation for leaving something the way it was designed, and for the love of everything quit putting things on the side. It is a lot faster to order something as is, leaving you with more time to enjoy your meal; perhaps even giving you enough time to have something from the dessert menu. And we all love dessert.

-Are you ready for some social?

There are times when being social can feel a lot like a competitive sport. There is a lot of jockeying for position, much contemplating of what play will work the best, and a lot of pressure to not fumble the pass. The one thing better then scoring the social touchdown is, playing against someone who is not from your division. Since the opposing person is not from your division, the score is really pointless. It is a perfect time to exercise your social plays and loosen up the conversation muscle. Allow me to clarify the situation; you are about to play somewhere that is not your home field, your opposing team also lacks the home court advantage and for the rest of the evening you are having a perfectly matched battle of social techniques. Without this opposing stranger there could have been a complete lack of action and you would have been stuck sitting on the sidelines. When the whistle does blow signaling the end, you can both shake hands and walk off the field feeling no attachment and satisfied with the game
This past weekend I went swing dancing; definitely not my social sport of choice. Not only was I giving up all advantages, but I was also dealing with an entire roster of new players. The drive down was full of the usual opening maneuvers that are exchanged between college students; majors, home towns, cliques and best moments of the past week. It was nice, but nice will not last you an entire evening and definitely will not bring home the gold. Upon arriving to the dancehall, I immediately figured out who held home court advantage and avoided them. I then found the perfect player to go up against; someone evenly matched and from a team that was three states away. The entire night was practice for the next time I had to compete in something where the scores mattered and were written on this year’s record. It was a great way of meeting someone new, interesting and lovely; all while honing my social agility.
The night could have turned into nothing but a bunch of flags on the field had I not been given the opportunity of the playing someone who’s defense fit my offense. Playing someone for a one time only game is the best way to get an honest score of your social standings. It allows you to be at the top of your game because the one night opponent will never see the rest of your playbook. Tell all your best stories and greatest trophy moments; no need to hold back or save them for another game. When dealing with a one night opponent you can tell not only your championship success, but also your Superbowl glory moments. By the time the clock runs out, both parties involved leave the night with the satisfaction of having spent the past four hours with someone new and exciting.
Being off your home field is always a tricky matter, but it is something that is part of competing in the National Social League. There comes a time when we can no longer be penalized for laughing out of turn, rushing a play, having too many men on the field or missing an easy pass without having long lasting repercussions. The National Social League keeps very detailed records and you must try to have a good one. Other wise you get traded to a different division or get transferred to the European leagues. Play the game fairly, abide by the rules, get there early to save your seat and please remember that painting your stomach in team colors is always frowned upon.

-How is anticipation like a gunshot?

When I was in middle school I was a runner, track and field was the best time of the year. The sky was almost always blue and the temperature was just starting to get warm again. There was a sense of good things to come once I was assigned to my team level. Having done next to nothing the whole winter my body was anticipating all the adrenaline rushes that come with competitive running. The best part of the whole thing was having a good gunshot to start the race off right. Getting into my lane, doing some final stretches, sizing up my opposition, closing my eyes and visualizing the track; there was so much building up to one final moment. Kneeling down to the starting line of my lane, I felt every tendon in my heart bumping sweet blood throughout my body; I took in the smell of the rubber track and the sweat of the event. Then there was the realization of what was about to happen; all that mattered in the next sixty seconds was that I was ahead of my fellow runners, this is also when the anticipation sets in. All at once everything moved in slow motion, all I could hear was my by breathe and it seemed like even the air itself was pushing against me. Where is the gun shot? I want to start this just so I can end this.

Cole was a good friend of mine, for a few months during high school we were inseparable. Then our lives lead us into different directions; I went on to college and he was left where he was. The contradiction in all this is that he was far smarter then me in every way possible. I once tried explaining a math problem to him, thinking he was misunderstanding it, it turns out I was doing it wrong and he showed me the proper way. One would think that we would get a better grade on the upcoming test; wrong, he failed while I scored an eighty nine. He never anticipated doing well in math or school in general for that matter. He had a very real, but overly pessimistic view on the world. He could have been top of the class had he only wanted it, had he anticipated doing well in school, had he tried to run the race. He chose to not run the race at all as opposed to anticipating the gunshot.

Missy is a new friend of mine, who has the survival work ethic; if she is not working she will not survive. Always doing something, always entering new things, there is bound to be let downs; there is bound to be anticipation that leaves you open and exposed. Yet she has the most positive attitude I have seen in a long time. She envisions what she wants while in the process of waiting for it. She is so healthy that she does not skip a beat when there is a let down, when anticipation leaves her stranded at the starting line. She chooses to run each time; she has no problem racing against anticipation.

Back to the starting line; waiting for the gunshot. If I wait too long and build it up too much my muscles will get strained and then I will get tired out before the finish line. If I do not race at all then there is no way to have my expectations defeated, no way for anticipation to crush me. I could focus on the finish line, see it in my head, and realize that this is not the last race. This is the race for today, the race for right now; there will be more races. We will always be running, but we have to react to the gunshot in the right way. How will you react next time?
Bang.

-Is there a right and wrong way to be single?

Having way too much experience when it comes to being single you would think that I would be an expert, and in some ways I am; I can tell you everything not to do if you want to attract the opposite sex. So I guess I am doing single hood injustice, which leads into my question; can someone be bad at being single? Are some people just better at being single then others, is there a way to do it gracefully or graceless? There are people out there who look better single; being single almost gives them a certain mystique. Then there are those of us who, no matter how they try, just can not seem to make single sexy. But which party in the politics of singleness is doing it the republican way?

I have this friend, Joshua, who gives single not only a good name, but an iconic status. It almost seems that the thrill of hunting and preying is better then having the actual relationship thing. Yet, if I were to see him snatched up I think I would be overwhelmingly happy for him. Although, after having perfected something so well, can one ever really give it up? Once you master basketball, you do not get contentment from baseball; Mr. Jordan proved this theory, and we thank him for it. It is possible that it all changes with time, maybe eventually Joshua will lose the adrenaline rush that comes with the hunt and live happily ever after. While he is still hunting though, he gives all single people a good look, because Lord knows confidence is no issue for the man. So maybe all us single folk can take a page from his romance novel of a life and learn that confidence should be had before the relationship is.

Then there are those single friends who simply lean back and expect the stork to being them a significant other. Now I must preface by saying I absolutely love this girl friend of mine, but she is a complete Democrat when it comes to relationships. She thinks that just sending out good thoughts will get her the man of her dreams. This drives me mad because she truly is the whole package, not for me because I know all her quirky faults, but nonetheless she has it going on. She just has this super-passive approach to dating. And now that the little dear is going to college soon enough, she needs to get some game. I try telling her that practice will make perfect, but she just will not go for it. Confidence plays a part into it, of this I am sure. She has everlasting hope though, so you must admire her for that though.

Can someone be bad at being single? Well singleness does have both its ups and downs, and they are the extremist of ups and the deepest of downs. As I see it though the only way someone could truly be bad at being single is if they are single and lack confidence. This is because; sexy runs for office, funny wins the election, but confidence takes the White House.