Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: facade, life, love, men, random, relationships, sex, thoughts, time, women
Last night’s drink: House merlot at Union Station.
What is the true basis for timing and timelines? When you have projects, you base its timeline on when you need or expect it to be complete. Expectant mothers have a general sense for what their baby will look like in week 20, because experience has indicated the general outline of the process. Each timeline sets milestones and goals, and prescribes or projects the amount of time it will take to get to each, in order for the final outcome to materialize in the most desirable form.
For relationships, there is a certain timeline that everyone sort of knows about, but no one can quite put their finger on. One-night stands typically have a shorter timeline, by virtue of the end goal being sex, and nothing more. The milestones are flirting, touching, kissing, groping, and then, finally, home base.
When you really like someone, though, and the goal is something more permanent, the milestones are more spread out, and the goal is much further down the road. You set rules for when you can call the person, you withhold topics of dinner conversation until the appropriate number of dates has passed. You start to tell people about them gradually, and in more detail. All for the sake of keeping the timeline. Really, all of those things would have happened sooner or later. It’s the speed at which they travel that determines the probability of an ensuing wreck.
So why does the speed make all the difference? It’s no secret that people these days have short attention spans, and a need for instant gratification. But easy come, easy go seems to stick here. If you don’t have to wait for it to blossom and emerge, then it isn’t worth the effort or the call back. Perhaps it’s a matter of proving your stability and your trust.
There are plenty of indicators outside of my relationships which clearly outline my dependability and trustworthiness, but when it comes to love, I get excited. I want to take it out of its box and play with it immediately. Instead of indicating my giddiness and swirly emotions, this inclination comes across more as desperate and psycho. But I’m not boiling bunnies or crouching outside of windows – I just want to talk to them again.
What dictates that the speed of love be slow? When you drive, you may slow down to be cautious. You don’t run with scissors. When you learn things, you practice repeating them slowly at first. Maybe slowing the speed of love helps you to avoid taking the wrong step as you slowly get to know the other person. But if you’re being yourself and you take a wrong step, isn’t that just being honest? Think of all the friends you’ve ever hit it off with immediately – why shouldn’t love be that way?
This is not a promotion for speed dating by any means – if you haven’t heard my experience, I’ll fill you in later. I think it all comes back to this creeping feeling I get that we’re all just taking that Shakespeare qoute to the next level, and truly treating the world as if it were a stage, and we are all actors.
Can someone show me to the Green Room?
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: diplomacy, facade, honesty, life, random, reality, sassy, tattoos, thoughts, women, work
Tonight’s drink: Smoking Loon Merlot.
I consider myself a generally nice person, but being fake nice is just exhausting. I’m currently in my own hotel room in Maryland, just outside of Washington D.C., finally starting to decompress from a full 36 hours with a co-worker.
This particular co-worker is actually pretty cool, compared to some of the people I could have made this trip with. However, like me, she can be controlling, neurotic, know-it-all, indecisive, stubborn, and passive. You would think that spending so much time with someone like you is a piece of cake, but it’s actually more exhausting than being with someone more your opposite. When you’re with someone who is different from you, you can easily identify the characteristics you don’t mesh with, and react or accomodate accordingly. This is especially true for those traits that annoy you. You sort of just swat the things off like flies, annoy the other person with your quirky ways, and let the two of you tumble along in a rolling yin-yang of contradiction. Somehow, a balance ensues.
When the things that annoy you about someone else are the same things that annoy you about yourself, a friction is created. The parallels rub against eachother like Oprah’s thighs, and generate a sort of heat-rash of frustration. And just as Oprah can’t get mad at her thighs for the irritation they bring her, so, too, can you not get pissed at your twin figure for being your bad side. Deep inside, you know you’re slowly rubbing them the wrong way, too, but all you can do is continue being yourself. You aren’t funny, because they’ve heard that joke before. You’re not cute, because they’re used to being the cute one. You’re not smart, because they’re used to being smarter. Your life stories are basically all the same.
There is one noticable difference between the two of us – she’s married. While this is basically the great divide of all women over 25, the difference is more the ultimate buzzkill than a conversation piece. Her next big goal is kids – my next big goal is a recreation of Sex in the City, a la me and Jenn.
Part of the problem is definitely my job. When you work as a manager in a non-profit, you have to accept that life as your own. I’ve grown to understand that the only work you leave at home is the work you don’t care about. I actually love work, so I have to do what I love, and what lets me be myself.
As I get ready to go to bed, I have the Miami Ink marathon on in the background. I love tattoos – I love getting them, I love seeing them on me in the shower, I love seeing them on others. Of course, the tattoos I have are hidden to the world, for the most part. This was mostly out of respect for my father, but also in consideration of my professional life. If I’m honest with myself, though, I want a job that doesn’t blink if I have a tattoo of a long, lovely pin-up on my forearm, and I put mousse in my hair to make it more voluminous. A job where the arts and a little controversy are just another day. A job with a little less diplomacy, and a lot more sass.
And no more of this one glass of wine with dinner B.S.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: facade, infatuation, insecurities, life, love, lust, men, people, random, sex, thoughts, women
This morning’s drink: SLO Roasted Peruvian.
Infatuation is a hole we all slip into every now and then. It feels great for the first few days, until you realize how exhausting and draining the whole charade really is. It’s a fun charade – don’t get me wrong. If you don’t get back in touch with reality in a short time, though, you get slapped with it soon enough.
I call it a hole because it takes you by surprise, and it’s completely situational. If you meet someone and infatuation ensues, it’s foundation is nestled in where it all began. You become infatuated in a bar, it has that sort of vodka flavor. You meet them in a club, it’s got that high energy booty-bump going. If it begins in bookstore, it has that delcious coffee warmth to it. Once infatuation tries to build up into different atmospheres, though, you’re threatening its already shaky structure.
I have the most fun meeting people in bars, because it’s less inhibited and more forgivable. But I have a hard time keeping the infatuation there. I’m not a party girl, but I do act like one when I’m drinking. When I’m sober, though, it’s an impossible act to follow. I’m back to the crocheting and the crosswords, and the cat that’s got my tongue.
A big part of the problem is that I don’t tell people about certain things, because I’m afraid of what their reaction might be. Things like smoking, blogging, music, tarot – even though they are all pretty mainstream. It’s not like I’m some freak in the bedroom that can’t find a guy who likes to be pelted with tomatoes during sex… or something. Nope.. these are your basic insecurities, I suppose. They are completely irrational.
Anyhow, I’m crawling out of the infatuation hole this morning, and having my coffee and my blog before I start the day. I need to get back to me, without all this beeswax of lust and batting eyelashes.
Whoever keeps up wins the magic prize!
