The rabbit hole of OMGIMGONNADIEALONE!!

So… you know how when you get a virus or a lump and you start searching online for any and all medical advice and somehow fall down the WedMD rabbit hole and suddenly realize that you have stage 4 brain cancer and have 2 weeks left to live?  Well!!  The same thing happens when you start researching “dating” in your mid 30’s.  These are a few of the headlines I found:

1. After 35, you don’t get to be picky.
2. Why I’m okay being single.
3. Do men really want to date women in their 40’s?
4. The dating pool at 30:  (insert photo of mostly empty pool with green sludge floating in the bottom).
5. 9 mistakes you make in your 30’s
6. Larger dating pool means less thoughtful mate choices
7. Dating in  your 30’s: The Ticking Clock

The struggle is real.  I’ve been dating for less than 2 months.  Specifically I’ve gone on exactly 6 dates which was enough for me to realize that it’s excruciating!!   I would gladly throw in the towel but I paid $150 to fall in love and therefore feel this extraordinary sense of obligation to “see it through” because it worked for so and so.

Every one couples up in their 20’s, I did, and is mostly still happily married in their 30’s (SPOILER ALERT: I never got married, I got single).  Essentially I have to wait until my 40’s to start meeting age appropriate divorcees who are recently single again.  “Oh you’ll die when you see how dating has evolved from 2o years ago” says me in 10 years while explaining the now forgotten Tinder app.  The 30’s dating pool is Moses wandering through the desert for 40 days and 40 nights chasing one mirage after another.  When you get up close you realize he’s 25.  Or unavailable.  Or married.  Or crazy.  Which has me wondering, what the hell do people think about me and why I’m single??

LOL!!  Just kidding.  I don’t care. I’m sure most people either think, 1) gah dating most be horrible, how sad to be all alone, or 2) SHIT, I’d give anything to be single again and do whatever I want and sleep in for once and eat in quiet.  This is the greener grass theory.

Truthfully, I try NOT to drive my friends crazy with this, this, this…I don’t know, lack of attachment mostly because they’re all either planning their nurseries or their weddings and if they aren’t planning that, they’re changing diapers and going to bed pretending to have a headache.  Or they’re out doing the same things I’m doing: online dating or waking up after a night of too many whiskies and not enough food.

Why do we do it?   Why do we drive ourselves crazy trying to fit into any box, be it the single box or the married box?  Each, depending on the day and the person, have their ups and downs.  But we put this countless pressure on ourselves to be taken (not in the Liam Neeson sense…or maybe in the Liam Neeson sense??) or loved and at the end of the day there are many people waking up next to someone still feeling lonely.  Attachment doesn’t always mean love.

I decided to online date because, in truth, I want to have babies.  All the babies!!  And of course I want to find my lobster. But dating, I have discovered, does not make me happy.  It does not fill any “void” or sense of loneliness or sense of togetherness or accomplishment.  I do not feel power or strength from being a single person who dates.  SO… I guess with that said, I’m going to do me.  You do you, girl!!

Dear friends,

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.  You, the family I’ve chosen.  Like most of my friends, we found each other because we were the outsiders, the misfits.  We were the artistic ones, the free-spirited ones, the gay ones, the adventurous ones, the crazed ones.  We eventually made our way to each other in camaraderie; a likeness of souls and a familiarity of heart.  We aligned on human value, artistic achievement, and cultural ideals while moving in open-mindedness with an open heart.

But we didn’t stop at similarities.  Like any individual you allow into your life there must be conditions of expansiveness and growth.  We locate those who will motivate us in our endeavors and dreams, those who will challenge us and tear down our walls, fight with us, stay with us and share with us.  Even if it means walking away and falling apart, the friends we allow in our lives are far more instrumental to our development as human beings that we ever give them credit for.  The person I became during my 12 years of solitude (in NYC) and the challenges we went through, the things we experienced, overcame and witnessed standing alongside 15 other black sheep ultimately made us the people we are today.  Thank you.  Often times I don’t know where exactly I belong in this world, or with whom do I belong.  But I take a look around at the lovers and dreamers who make up my world and it suddenly comes into focus:  you are the individuals who connect me to earth upon which I stand.

This is a love letter to you: the ones standing, the ones who’ve fallen away, and the ones on the periphery.  I am endlessly grateful to have found you.  Thank you for being a friend.

Match.con

Ah a new year, a new opportunity to practice vulnerability, a time to put yourself out into the dregs of online dating and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Here’s a quick run down of what 90% of match profiles will tell you about humans in Austin:

1. They love to run.
2. They love their dogs.
3. They are very healthy.
4. They love live music.  And tacos.  And running.  And biking.  And travel.  And snowboarding.
5. They are ALL outgoing and up for an adventure.
6. They are all funny and romantic and enjoy long walks in nature.
7. They all mostly love their careers, work hard, feel successful, I digress.

Here’s my rebuttal to your boring perfection:

1. I hate to run.  Like HATE to run.  Unless its for my life.  Or chocolate.
2. I’m only so so healthy.  I eat good.  I’ll order a salad.  And a side of fries.
3. I am totally up for an adventure, especially one outside of downtown Austin.  Rebel.
4. I don’t have a career.  I have passions I work hard at daily and a school schedule in which I prepare for but I currently work at a bar.  That is not my career. That is the vehicle which affords me the opportunity to pursue the things I love.  So please don’t ask me what my real job is.  I had a “real job” for 12 years and decided it wasn’t for me.  I’m flexible.
5. My dream job on the other hand, pool shark.  Or poker shark.  Fuck it, SHARK!
6. I legitimately am spontaneous but not at the risk of my job or learning or art or Game of Thrones.
7. I am also somewhat of a perfectionist who probably has unhealthy expectations of people.
8. I enjoy being alone ALOT and often think that if had I unlimited wine, jazz and a scribe, I could be alone forever.
9. Fact:  if I ever learn your first and last name, I will google you.
10. My room isn’t always clean.  I’m so carefree and spontaneous there are clothes on my chair, so wild I left a glass of water on my night stand for an entire day.

Because all those are truths too.

The worst part about chopping off my finger…

Is that when my friend comes to take me to the hospital, I’ll still be wearing my pajamas.  And not just any pajamas, my mumu.  It’s 2:45pm.

GOODBYE GONNA GO JUMP OFF A BRIDGE NOW!

How the hell do people stay motivated?  First, I’m suffering from the post vacation blues but don’t feel sorry for me, I was getting strung out and exhausted in Paris with two ladies I love.  HOWEVER, it’s that time of year when we all want to hibernate, eat, Christmas shop and binge watch on shows like Sons of Anarchy.  And go to party after party after party… Fun fact, I got home from my first of several Christmas parties last night at 5:30am.  Who the hell do I think I am?

I recently had a long conversation about motivation with a friend of mine, it’s ebbs and flows and the reasons for the aforementioned ebbs and flows.  I’m, ironically, my best when I’m my worst.  It’s only when I’m sinking faster than the Titanic that I actually get my ass outta bed, meditate, practice yoga, juice, read, pray.  Le sigh.

Tina introduced me to the concept of “dynamic tension” in relation to motivation.  Essentially dynamic tension is created when you are truthful and clear about where you are in life verses where you want to be.  If you’re at your worst or furthest from your goal, the tension between the two places makes you work that much harder or feel that much worse therefore motivating you to get your ass movin’.  Once you’re feeling a little better or even a smaller step closer to your goals, the tension eases up and so do our motivations or actions.    It makes the most sense ever.

Ok great, now we know why we’re still laying in bed BUT HOW, PRAY TELL, DO WE GET OUT?!  The article goes on to mention baby steps which to me is somewhat vague and only reminds me What About Bob.  But truthfully, Bob had it right.  He knew to get anywhere, in his case literally, each action or baby step was simply one step towards his goal even if they were so ridiculous.  So here is something I am going to do as not Bob: 1) write down where I am AND write down where I want to be, specifically, in all aspects of my life, 2) remind myself everyday that I’m not there yet (my old acting teacher told me that you’re never there there),  3)  liter my home with post-its of inspirational quotes, 4) keep working on my vision “board” in the career corner of my feng shui bedroom.  My “board” is a rope with photos of inspiring people, ideas on career, ticket stubs, art, etc each paper clipped on.  I like to be able to change things out and it looks better than a stupid poster board.

I don’t know you guys, it’s all trial and error!  I’m sure I’ll blog about how incredible I’ve been at doing all these wonderful things in a month and then two months later post another article in my mumu at 3pm!  But ya know, life.

Crazy is as crazy dates!

We all have that friend who constantly dates the crazies!! My wonderful friend (who I won’t name) could’t get away from them.  Each time he met a new lady we all knew she was going to be crazy.  And most of them never let us down.  Why?  Well… hate to say this but crazy is as crazy dates.  My friend is one of the biggest hearted men I’ve met.  He’s sensitive, artistic, creative, musical, funny and also a little bit insane.  But show me an artist who isn’t and you’ll show me a liar.  Artists of all kinds are forced to reckon with themselves daily; unearth their demons, face their fears, put themselves out there in a way most folks shudder to think of.  Artists are constantly putting our hearts into the universe to be judge and thrown back in our faces.  Becoming that raw in art, in life or in love will leave you in a particularly touchy place.  If you’re ever been inclined towards anything on the negative or depressive end of nature, art will make you crazy.  This is exactly why most artist need a great therapist; to stay afloat when everything is trying to drown you, when looking in the mirror is a horrifying endeavor.  When we find similarities in others we recognize in ourselves, we understand that, it’s comforting, it makes you feel less crazy.

I recently started questioning my “choices” in crazy because for some reason, like most of the “men” in my life, I couldn’t escape the crazy.  Finding another crazy, or someone more inclined to crazy than myself, is always SUPER FUN!  And I mean that very genuinely.  Of course crazy comes in an array of colors but crazy in and of itself is still a duck.  My particular crazy at this particular time came in the shape of a Mexican stand off between where I wanted to go and the paralysis I faced in simply getting out of bed, his was a super healthy id and a super delusional ego.  Or scratch that, verse it.  I digress…

So…it came at almost no shock to recently discover that I’m for sure 100% crazy.  Not in the I’m-gonna-drive-by-your-house-crying variety or even of the Facebook stalking variety and most certainly not in the I’ll-jump-from-this-roof-if-you-don’t-love-me crazy.  But crazy in my definition of love.  Love to me is easy (of course I know it isn’t all easy but for the sake of falling into love, it should be pretty damn easy).  It just is.  It’s uncomplicated.  It’s either yes or no.  Sure it hurts and it’s scary and it’s often times incredibly confusing but when there exists the possibility of love, then love it is.  But we complicate the shit out of everything else so why not a basic emotion as well.

Love has taken on an entirely new identity.  Love isn’t just holding hands and sharing an ice cream sundae anymore.  Love is THE REST OF YOUR LIFE AND OMG AM I READY FOR THIS AND IF NOT THEN I NEED TO DECIDE RIGHT NOW ON OUR FIRST DATE OR ELSE ILL MAKE AN EPICALLY BAD DECISION THAT’LL RUIN MY LIFE AND ANY OTHER POSSIBILITY OF LOVE AND IF THIS ISNT THE RIGHT ONE BUT I CHOOSE THIS NOW MAYBE ILL BE MISSING OUT ON THE RIGHT ONE LATER.  Guys, I mean actual men here, dating or loving or sex doesn’t mean that we want to tie you down and marry you and have kids and share a mortgage together!  Trust me, us ladies have SO MUCH MORE at stake that you could ever begin to wrap your complicated heads around.  We’re just taking you for a test drive, amiright girls?  When we decide, if we do, that marriage is something we’d like to partake in with you, you’ll know it.  For sure.  We’ll drag you kicking and screaming to Tiffany.  So can we all calm down for a minute and realize that dating or love or sex is just dating or love or sex right now.  That’s the black (or white) part of it.  It’s either YES we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing today or NO we aren’t doing any of that at all.

Too often I consider the weight of my text messages.  I’m certain that so many guys assume things or take sweet messages out of context and imagine they mean the heavy l-going-to-take-your-soul-then-your-401K.  From the very beginning I’m tiptoeing around being who I am out of fear that my sweet side, my flirty side, my smart assery will scare you little flowers away.

Love just is.  And if that simplicity makes me crazy, then….

****On publication of this post (which I wrote a couple months ago) I’ve weeded out most of the crazy from my  life and am feeling much less crazy myself.  FUNNY ISN’T, IT?!

 

And this is the death part.

Thomas Mann said “A man’s dying is more his survivor’s affair than his own.” And it’s true.  The dead pass.  They go where ever it is we go and those of us left behind…well, we keep coming back to them; their voice, their laughter, their smell, the shape of their eyes.  Try as we might, the dead never really leave us.

It’s been 8 years since my greatest friend Wendy left this world.  Her exit was a 12 year encore of dancing and bowing and dancing again.  We watched her life like a great film; the personal moments, the private moments, the great love, the great heartbreak, the collapse, the struggle, the passion and of course her final curtain call.  When you know at 13 years old that your life could and probably would be cut short you tend to live life with the kind of wild abandon we all should.  But don’t.  And those of us who don’t, stare in wonder at these bright enigmatic souls longingly.  She had that effect on just about everyone who met her.

Wendy and I became friends at 19 over the mutual love of a boy but that boy brought us together and for that I will always be grateful.  We moved in together immediately, acted together, went to radiation together, shaved our heads together, visited NYC for the first time together, lost together, fought together, broke up, made up and laughed and laughed and laughed all within the first two years of becoming friends.  Three years later, I found myself moved into her living room in Williamsburg Brooklyn in September of 2002 with two suitcases and 5 boxes.  Oh the insane choices we make at 22.

By now Wendy had “successfully” completed her second operation to remove a astrocytoma tumor from her spinal cord, navigated radiation and chemotherapy repeatedly and also graduated college with a bachelors of fine arts and began working as an actress and model.  I quote successfully because she struggled with paralysis on her right side on and off for the next 6 years.  But she knew how to take care of herself with the right foods, skin care, massages, reiki, magnet therapy, the outdoors and love.  She always saved pieces of her for her even at the expense of others, she never let anyone take everything she had.  That was such a fascinating lesson I learned from her that I attempt to implement into my life daily.  She made time for everything and let herself have as much fun as she wanted.  She truly was a demon at time management.  That I wish I learned better.  She was also crude and smelly and hilarious and goofy and so talented and so ridiculous.  She could drink and smoke just about anyone under the table.  She laughed hard and loud and loved hard and loud.  She could dance and act and decorate an apartment.  She dressed up but mostly dressed down and cared equally.  She could listen and respond and navigate the feelings.  She loved her family, her friends, her Tom and her mean ass cats.  And she always had good music playing and good food somewhere nearby.  She was a host at life.

And I miss her.  A lot.  There were many times this year I would have given anything to talk to her again and hug her thin little neck.  But all I can do is imagine what she’d say or how she’d feel.  Oh her forearm!  Her birdlike forearm; the shape, the texture and the lightness is what I will forever think of when I think of her.  It was that forearm I held so often the last year as we walked around the city and maneuvered around people so frantic to get somewhere else.  It was that forearm she held when the feeling was fleeting and she couldn’t grasp things how she intended.  It was that forearm that forever remained the same when everything else bloated and eventually came to.

Her mother called me on October 30th, 2006 around 5:45am.  I’d already spent almost every night for the past two months in one of several hospitals rooms and halls.  She was dying and it wasn’t something any of us pretended wasn’t happening.  In fact, during the last month of her life she made peace with her spiritual and physical journey and wanted our permission to move on.  I knew what her mother was going to say before I answered the phone and within two hours I was in the Bronx laying in a hospital bed next to my best friend who was not even there.   Her body all puffy and warm was beating and breathing but Wendy, she’d gone home.  I’d watched her trying to leave for two months.  I watched her body break down and felt her spirit floating around the hospital and in my life.  She shifted and expanded and shriveled.  She was gone.

She’s been gone for 8 years.  And there’s probably not a day that goes by that I don’t think of her and smile.  Or cry.  But mostly, I smile and hope that she’s doing the same thing looking down on me.  But she’s probably dancing in heaven with all them other fools!

 

How to get over an American man (Sorry American men):

1. Date a foreigner specifically one of the latin persuasion who speaks more than one sexy language.  Then make him talk to you in said languages.
2. Buy a floppy 70’s hat or something equally fabulous and pointless.  (I’m trying to justify strange purchases)
3. Remember that there are thousands of Italian men who would LOVE to date you and chances are they”ll be dressed WAY better anyhow.
4. Have a cup of tea with an American women in her 60’s who has an American son.  She’ll get it.
5. Re-design your feng sui love corner.  Switch that stupid nondescript Hallmark card out for a postcard from Paris.  The lovers bridge.
6. GET OFF TINDER!  FOR REAL NOW ILL WAIT WHILE YOU DELETE YOUR STUPID PROFILE!
7. Go to a sports bar during a college football game.  And just wait.  Until you crack.
8. Then go listen to jazz and drink wine.
9. Read this article, How To Fall In Love In 5 Minutes.
10. Remember that if he’s white, attractive, well spoken, charming, and American he could also be Ted Bundy.  You’re welcome, ladies!

*you’re welcome for the most amazing American gif EVER!

Relationship PTSD

Here’s a short list of things that give me PTSD from my previous relationship:

1. Baseball hats specifically fan hats.  Sorry every man in america.
2. Polo shirts.  Sorry 80% of men in america. 
3. Burnt orange.  Sorry Austin, Texas.
4. Golf.
5. Soccer.
6. Germans.  Sorry 25% of Texas.
7. Crate & Barrel.  Please none of my friends soon to be married register there. 
8. Fake plants.
9. Multi-purpose greeting cards.
10. Groupons….for dates.

 

25 Things you can control right now

1. How many times you’ll hit snooze.  For me, several.  I’m working on the art of waking up because it is certainly an art.
2. Your ability to mask the faint smell on whiskey still on your breath.
3. Are we showering today?  We’re definitely not shaving our legs!
4. Today feels like a red lipstick all day sorta day.
5. Just wear the sexy dress already.
6. Heels or flats?  Heels, zero fucks.
7. Bacon or granola?!?  BACON!
8. Am I going to work or check Facebook first?
9. How many times will I check out _____’s page?
10. Nope, not drying my hair.
11. I will make my bed however.  Never know when you’ll have a last minute guest.
12. I will juice because it’s delicious albeit time consuming.
13. Are we working out today?
14. Working?
15. Playing?
16. Drinking?
17. How many “news” articles you’ll read compared to how many Buzzfeed quizzes you’ll take.
18. Today you are definitely going to do all your check off your to-do list.
19. Exactly how loud you’ll sing in the car.
20. You’re gonna try like hell to drink 80oz of water.
21. If you’ll go down the rabbit hole of disappointments.
22. And how you’ll pick yourself back up.
23. And you’ll be kinder to yourself.
24. And you’ll probably watch at least one rerun of Friends.
25. Then you’ll brush your teeth and go to bed because you aren’t a gross human being.

And tomorrow, tomorrow is another day to do it all over again:  to make better mistakes or dumber choices, to slack, to strive, to conquer, to control, to love, to fight, to grow, to medicate, to cry, to be bolder and wiser.  To be fearless.

A guy said this to me in a bar once…

1. You’re cute but you’re no Angelina Jolie.  Bouncer!!  
2. I’ll probably be a Calvin Klein model soon.   Never to be seen again, in real life or in print.
3. You know I’m only 22, right?  Yes, duh, obviously.  LIE.   
4. You know I’m gay, right?  Yes, duh, obviously.  LIE.   
5. You know I’m married right?  Hits head with hand.  NO!  
6. You know I’m married right?  Breaks beer bottle over head, gives self concussion, wakes up in the hospital.
7. Please stop dancing like that so close to me.   You should see me karaoke!
8. You should come see my band play.  Ok, I’ve definitely heard this more than once. 
9. I called you like 17 times.  HE CALLED 17 TIMES!!
10. If you didn’t have a boyfriend…SPOILER ALERT:  I had a boyfriend.