This past weekend I had a very fortunate opportunity. No, I did not go to Chelsea Clinton's wedding. I did something better, I went to the beach. When you live in DC going to the beach is a daunting task. It's not a quick trip down the road or an hour drive away, it's a 3 hour trip...if you're lucky. This time around I was not so lucky with the travel time and averaged about a 5 hour trip there and a 4.50 hour trip on the way back.
But it's worth it.
After a crazy week of working until 11 o'clock four nights in a row it was time to break the routine and escape for a weekend. With sunny skies overhead, a full tank of gas and our beach chairs in the trunk, my girlfriend and I headed to Dewey Beach, DE.
Saturday afternoon was our day in the sun. We set up shop around 12 pm and the plan was to not move until the lifeguards left for the day, (around 5 pm). In between my magazine reading and napping I did one of my most favorite activities, people watching. My eyes danced between groups of families, teenagers, couples and those who were just hanging solo. The beach really is a slice of Americana. If someone from another country visited any beach in the US they would experience all ends of the spectrum when it comes to understanding American people. This is why I love the beach. You will always find the following people on a beach:
1. The perfect family: Mom, Dad, little boy and little girl. All of them dressed very well.
2. The teenage mob: Teens too young to drive but old enough to start trouble and be annoying.
3. The insane family, (usually seated within close proximity to me): Loud, lots of equipment and require a 20' radius to hold all of their stuff. Lots of kids running around, usually a set of grandparents in tow that can't really help watch the kids and just sit in their beach chairs, followed by a very loud mom who usually has a questionable accent which leads to a game of, "what city do you think they're from?"
4. The young couple in love: Gag!
5. The old couple in love: Cute!
6. The odd couple: Woman who refuses to take her shirt and shorts off when going in the water paired with a man who wears way too small swimming trunks and is in need of a back wax. The guy on the beach yesterday looked like he was wearing a vest...backwards.
7. The group of party girls: young, quiet b/c they're hungover, usually have a towel over their heads and a cooler with lots of water.
8. The two guys who are watching the group of party girls above.
9. The super loud, foul mouthed, cigarette smoking, crotch grabbing, white trash group of 20-somethings that of course have to sit right next to me.
10. The two single girls who are taking all of this in: that would be me.
I find the behavior and conversations from these groups of people truly fascinating. In one afternoon I learned so much from all of them just by listening and watching. The white trash group of 20-somethings next to me all live at home. Apparently they do drugs in one of the kids bedrooms when the parents are at home, too. The kid is convinced that his parents have no clue he's doing drugs in his bedroom with his girlfriend, but the girlfriend thinks otherwise. She thinks they are aware of the situation but just pretend to be in the dark.
The group of party girls got a sweet deal on the beach chairs they rented. They ended up getting them all for free b/c one of the girls worked at the chair and umbrella stand a few summers ago. She did it along with running a babysitting enterprise. Yes, she used the phrase enterprise. She would watch like 8 kids at a time and when she was in a pinch she sometime had to ask her friend Erica who didn't like kids and wasn't good at babysitting. But she made enough money in one summer to pay for her tuition for a semester.
The perfect family was just that, perfect. The kids were cute, they didn't talk back and everyone had fun. Maybe it was the margaritas that mom made that kept mom and dad calm and collected the whole day? I know that she made awesome margaritas because she offered me one. I guess I looked thirty? Dad made a kick ass walrus in the sand, too. They looked like they could be on the cover of J.Crew. I liked sitting next to them.
So with all of this craziness that occurs at the beach, why are we drawn to it every summer?
I have the answer to this question: Because it never changes and it never will.
The beach will always be just that, the beach. It will never evolve or become more technologically advanced or sophisticated. You go to the beach once and you've got it figured out. If you hadn't been to the beach in the past 10 years and then decided to go one day you would know exactly what to pack, what to wear and what to expect. That's why we like it, we know what to expect.
With the exception of colors and textiles, very few things have changed for the beach. The beach chair hasn't really changed, nor has the cooler or the beach towel. In fact some of the toys that the J.Crew family was playing with were just like the toys I played with at the beach. A shovel, a pail and one of those starfish molds. Seriously.
I think that's why I like the beach so much. It reminds me of childhood and simpler times. The beach will always be simple. It doesn't matter what your life is like during the week, at some point all of us desire, (and require), some simplicity. A place with no cell phones, laptops or Outlook reminders and the only tweeting you hear is the sound of the lifeguard's whistle telling you it's time to get out of the water.
Summer goes by fast. Enjoy every second of sunshine that falls on your face and return it with a smile.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Keep Your Mitts off my Condiments!
I knew I wasn't going crazy...nor was I consuming an alarming amount of salad dressing. I just couldn't understand why I was going through a bottle of salad dressing faster at work then I was at my own apartment. I knew I was on the cusp of discovering the culprit. Day after day I would walk into the pantry at work and smell my Italian dressing. Only, I didn't use it that day at lunch....so who was using it?
I know I shouldn't get wrapped up in a $3 bottle of dressing, but when you think about it, what this person was doing, or rather, what my own co-worker was doing, was downright rude. We work together for cryin' out loud! Why would you help yourself to your co-workers belongings just because they are stored in a shared refrigerator? And to continuously do it over and over again is just beyond unacceptable to me.
I quietly came around the corner today and low and behold I caught the guy! (Yes, it was a guy, too.) I startled him, he made a weird face, and then suddenly tossed something into the fridge and bolted. It wasn't until a short while later that I realized why he looked so guilty....he was the Salad Dressing Hoarder!
So, to you, Dressing Hoarder, be fair warned!
I've got my eye on you. I will be watching every move you make when you enter that pantry from this point forward. You who can't even say hello to me in the morning when I say, "Good Morning!", or even bother to exchange a smile when I pass you in the hall. I have done nothing to you but only treated you with the common respect that I would want from my co-workers.
You're cheap to not buy your own.
You're lazy for not walking to the corner of the next block and buying one at CVS.
I don't want any excuses either that you're not from around here b/c look buddy, I live in DC, for all I'm concerned, I'm not from around Clarendon, either. I still figured out the joint and where to get my Starbucks, my Zone Bars and yes, my salad dressing. And claiming ignorance will get you no where fast, too. As instructed on our fridge, I used one of the pre-printed labels and filled it out with my last name and the date. Do not even tell me you don't know who, WILSON, is! I haven't taken my, "Welcome Aboard Marianne Wilson", sign from last October so come up with another excuse.
Until then, keep your chubby, greasy, architect-paws off my dressin' or else I'll have no other choice but to resort to some creative aggression in a culinary outlet.
Just sayin'...
I know I shouldn't get wrapped up in a $3 bottle of dressing, but when you think about it, what this person was doing, or rather, what my own co-worker was doing, was downright rude. We work together for cryin' out loud! Why would you help yourself to your co-workers belongings just because they are stored in a shared refrigerator? And to continuously do it over and over again is just beyond unacceptable to me.
I quietly came around the corner today and low and behold I caught the guy! (Yes, it was a guy, too.) I startled him, he made a weird face, and then suddenly tossed something into the fridge and bolted. It wasn't until a short while later that I realized why he looked so guilty....he was the Salad Dressing Hoarder!
So, to you, Dressing Hoarder, be fair warned!
I've got my eye on you. I will be watching every move you make when you enter that pantry from this point forward. You who can't even say hello to me in the morning when I say, "Good Morning!", or even bother to exchange a smile when I pass you in the hall. I have done nothing to you but only treated you with the common respect that I would want from my co-workers.
You're cheap to not buy your own.
You're lazy for not walking to the corner of the next block and buying one at CVS.
I don't want any excuses either that you're not from around here b/c look buddy, I live in DC, for all I'm concerned, I'm not from around Clarendon, either. I still figured out the joint and where to get my Starbucks, my Zone Bars and yes, my salad dressing. And claiming ignorance will get you no where fast, too. As instructed on our fridge, I used one of the pre-printed labels and filled it out with my last name and the date. Do not even tell me you don't know who, WILSON, is! I haven't taken my, "Welcome Aboard Marianne Wilson", sign from last October so come up with another excuse.
Until then, keep your chubby, greasy, architect-paws off my dressin' or else I'll have no other choice but to resort to some creative aggression in a culinary outlet.
Just sayin'...
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Excuse Me, Is That Your Bag....of Weed?
The key to keeping a dirty little secret? Keeping it a secret.
The day started off like every other, I woke up to a symphony of sounds from my neighbors upstairs and an aroma that makes me think someone is cooking something with dirty hands. An hour later I exit the lair, (on the lookout for spiders while climbing my steps to the outside), and begin my commute.
I get on the metro at Cleveland Park and miraculously find a seat amongst the sea of tourists who are all riled up to go photograph the hell out of the cherry blossoms. The train gets crowded at the next stop and a guy in front of me had to step in closer to make room. I immediately start scoping him out, not because he was attractive, but because he was an absolute mess. The picture perfect definition of disheveled. Hair a mess, shirt wrinkled and button crooked, belt askew, bag open and over one shoulder with shoes untied.
Let's go back to the bag. The bag was open which I always find fascinating because you're either asking someone to pick pocket you or in my case, blog about you. The contents of this bag I found mesmerizing. This is what I saw: 2 mechanical pencils, one black pen, a pack of gum, lots of gum wrappers, a lighter, what looked to be a plane ticket, loose business cards, a black notebook, an iPod, some dollar bills and the icing on the cake which prompted an immediate text to my sister, A BAG OF WEED.
You want to know why people get busted for weed? Because they get stoned then go out in public with their bag of weed hanging out for everyone to see on the metro. Now some of you are probably saying that I was being nosey for looking so closely at the contents and I disagree. My attention to detail was analytical research for the purposes of writing this blog with the hopes of entertaining those who read it. If this is not entertaining then consider it a "Lessons Learned" so to speak. When I saw that he was also carrying a Starbucks I began to stress. Just how many hits off the bong had this guy taken before getting on the train? The quantity could cross the threshold between whether or not I would be accessorizing my shirt with a Venti Latte (Non Fat) or not. (Yes, I actually looked at the code on the side of cup to see what he was drinking.) Luckily he got off at Farragut North without a spill.
Go through my work day: email, email, email, CAD, CAD, CAD, copy paste, copy paste, copy paste.
Leave gym and begin commute home. I arrive at Metro Center and see I have 4 minutes to kill before my train. I go to the end of the platform and pull out the blackberry to begin my texting commute. The guy on my right is in a full blown conversation on the phone about what type of meat he is going to have when he gets home. The details of his barbeque/honey mustard/horseradish experiment sounded like a hot mess to me. But before I could be further grossed out by his grill talk, I overhear something even more disturbing from the couple on my left.
I'll try describing the voice to you first. Picture a girl talking to a cute little fluffy dog. Their voice will get all high-pitched and sing-songy. Now if you're talking to a dog, that's OK. But when you're speaking to a person, you're a grown man and you're saying:
I'M GONNA HIT YOUR BUTT. OH, I'M GONNA HIT YOUR BUTT! OH, I JUST HIT IT!
It's not OK.
In fact it's disturbing. My head did a Linda Blair and spun so fast to the left that I heard something crack. I just scrunched my eyebrows together, opened my mouth as if to say something, (but didn't know what to say), and quickly shook my head as if trying to shake the visual from my brain like an Etchasketch.
And he fully went through with his promise, too. There he stood, spanking his girlfriend's ass right in front of me and Grill Master Bob to my right.
I'm still not sure why he thought this was a logical way to pass the time on the platform. I started staring at the red lights hoping they would blink and take me out of this "tunnel of love". When the train arrived I waited to see which car they got in and went the other direction.
Your dirty little secrets and your dirty talk is all good and fun. I have nothing against either but just not in public. I think it's more about being so careless when you're out in full view of the world with actions/habits that are extremely private. You never know who you could run into....your boss....your Mother....or even worse, a girl who writes about crazy people she sees on the metro. ;)
Remember, trains move!
The metro chimes a little PSA that says, "Excuse me is that your bag?" And it reminds people to take their stuff and pick up after themselves before exiting the train. They may need to alter that to...."Excuse me, is that your bag of weed on the floor?"
Do you have a dirty little secret? Good, keep it to yourself and it will remain that way forever.
The day started off like every other, I woke up to a symphony of sounds from my neighbors upstairs and an aroma that makes me think someone is cooking something with dirty hands. An hour later I exit the lair, (on the lookout for spiders while climbing my steps to the outside), and begin my commute.
I get on the metro at Cleveland Park and miraculously find a seat amongst the sea of tourists who are all riled up to go photograph the hell out of the cherry blossoms. The train gets crowded at the next stop and a guy in front of me had to step in closer to make room. I immediately start scoping him out, not because he was attractive, but because he was an absolute mess. The picture perfect definition of disheveled. Hair a mess, shirt wrinkled and button crooked, belt askew, bag open and over one shoulder with shoes untied.
Let's go back to the bag. The bag was open which I always find fascinating because you're either asking someone to pick pocket you or in my case, blog about you. The contents of this bag I found mesmerizing. This is what I saw: 2 mechanical pencils, one black pen, a pack of gum, lots of gum wrappers, a lighter, what looked to be a plane ticket, loose business cards, a black notebook, an iPod, some dollar bills and the icing on the cake which prompted an immediate text to my sister, A BAG OF WEED.
You want to know why people get busted for weed? Because they get stoned then go out in public with their bag of weed hanging out for everyone to see on the metro. Now some of you are probably saying that I was being nosey for looking so closely at the contents and I disagree. My attention to detail was analytical research for the purposes of writing this blog with the hopes of entertaining those who read it. If this is not entertaining then consider it a "Lessons Learned" so to speak. When I saw that he was also carrying a Starbucks I began to stress. Just how many hits off the bong had this guy taken before getting on the train? The quantity could cross the threshold between whether or not I would be accessorizing my shirt with a Venti Latte (Non Fat) or not. (Yes, I actually looked at the code on the side of cup to see what he was drinking.) Luckily he got off at Farragut North without a spill.
Go through my work day: email, email, email, CAD, CAD, CAD, copy paste, copy paste, copy paste.
Leave gym and begin commute home. I arrive at Metro Center and see I have 4 minutes to kill before my train. I go to the end of the platform and pull out the blackberry to begin my texting commute. The guy on my right is in a full blown conversation on the phone about what type of meat he is going to have when he gets home. The details of his barbeque/honey mustard/horseradish experiment sounded like a hot mess to me. But before I could be further grossed out by his grill talk, I overhear something even more disturbing from the couple on my left.
I'll try describing the voice to you first. Picture a girl talking to a cute little fluffy dog. Their voice will get all high-pitched and sing-songy. Now if you're talking to a dog, that's OK. But when you're speaking to a person, you're a grown man and you're saying:
I'M GONNA HIT YOUR BUTT. OH, I'M GONNA HIT YOUR BUTT! OH, I JUST HIT IT!
It's not OK.
In fact it's disturbing. My head did a Linda Blair and spun so fast to the left that I heard something crack. I just scrunched my eyebrows together, opened my mouth as if to say something, (but didn't know what to say), and quickly shook my head as if trying to shake the visual from my brain like an Etchasketch.
And he fully went through with his promise, too. There he stood, spanking his girlfriend's ass right in front of me and Grill Master Bob to my right.
I'm still not sure why he thought this was a logical way to pass the time on the platform. I started staring at the red lights hoping they would blink and take me out of this "tunnel of love". When the train arrived I waited to see which car they got in and went the other direction.
Your dirty little secrets and your dirty talk is all good and fun. I have nothing against either but just not in public. I think it's more about being so careless when you're out in full view of the world with actions/habits that are extremely private. You never know who you could run into....your boss....your Mother....or even worse, a girl who writes about crazy people she sees on the metro. ;)
Remember, trains move!
The metro chimes a little PSA that says, "Excuse me is that your bag?" And it reminds people to take their stuff and pick up after themselves before exiting the train. They may need to alter that to...."Excuse me, is that your bag of weed on the floor?"
Do you have a dirty little secret? Good, keep it to yourself and it will remain that way forever.
Friday, March 12, 2010
A Life Without Passion
"Enthusiasm is one of the most powerful engines of success. When you do a thing, do it with all your might. Put your whole soul into it. Stamp it with your own personality. Be active, be energetic and faithful, and you will accomplish your object. Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm."
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Has anyone ever asked you what your passion was? And if so, did you have an answer, a real answer?
I think all of us have a "passion" for something but sadly I don't think everyone discovers what their passion is in life. It's easy to see how that can happen, too. Life is busy. Work, Family, Gym, Friends, Social Commitments, Social Activities, Errands, Facebook...the list goes on and on. We have so many things competing for our time and energy.
I like to think of our energy supply as an organic mass. This mass has a known quantity. Which means someday our energy will run out when we leave the earth. All of us will die one day and with that our mass of energy will have run out. If someone gave you a calendar for all of the days you have left in this world, say a calendar that had the next 40 years lined out for you, would you change the course of your activity on a daily basis? Would you fret over the small stuff, like a clean house? Essentially that is what our life is only no one has given us the calendar. When you think of it that way, why would you ever waste one month, one week or one year not doing what truly makes us happy? This isn't to say we can't be sad or angry or jealous, those emotions are essential to life, too. But it is to say, why do we waste so much time on the fluff?
When someone gives a eulogy at a funeral they are usually one of the people closest to the deceased. That person has the honor and the duty of being the last individual to ever speak on this person's behalf. Have you ever thought about who would give your own eulogy? Or one step further, what would that person say about you? We take time to fill out on-line dating applications that make us answer questions like, what three words would your friends use to describe you? But have we ever sat back and looked at their answers in order to understand how we are perceived from the outside? We hope that they use good words. We hope that the person giving our eulogy says nice, honest and truthful things. (I can't say I've ever been to a funeral where they didn't say nice things.) You hope that those closest to you, who really know you, know what you're passionate about.
So why do we waste so much time on the fluff if we know our calendar has a limited number of days? Why do we get worked up over details that will have no consequence in the future or on someone's view of us? No one started a eulogy with, "Wanda was a really nice person. She had a really clean house, drove a really nice car and her bathroom had a huge marble tub. And her china, well it was just beautiful and her silver was always polished perfectly. Oh, and in the summer we all go out on her boat, she has a great party boat!"
Why don't you hear these things in a eulogy? Because they don't matter; they're fluff. None of the stuff we surround ourself with can go with us nor does it define us. And if you're friends ever use those phrases to describe you, then you should really evaluate the relationship because they don't know you, just your stuff. What does matter is how you treat people and how you treat yourself. People may forget your words but they never forget your actions. Did you help your friends out when they needed it? Did you support family who were going through tough times? Did you take care of your family? Did you give yourself solely for the benefit of another without any alterior motive? Did you take care of yourself? Were you a happy person?
Did you find your passion?
Life gets swept up by the constant "to do" list. Finding your passion should never be on that list.
I hope that if there is one trait people will remember me by it is that I'm genuine. Sincerity is one of the most important qualities in a person. Always knowing what is real in life, what is important and what really matters, can never be underestimated.
Work Hard/Play Harder/Laugh the Hardest and live with Passion!
If you have ever felt such tremendous enthusiasm and desire for something that you would gladly spend all your waking hours working on it, that you would happily do without pay, then you have found your passion.
-- Sharon Cook & Graciela Sholander
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Has anyone ever asked you what your passion was? And if so, did you have an answer, a real answer?
I think all of us have a "passion" for something but sadly I don't think everyone discovers what their passion is in life. It's easy to see how that can happen, too. Life is busy. Work, Family, Gym, Friends, Social Commitments, Social Activities, Errands, Facebook...the list goes on and on. We have so many things competing for our time and energy.
I like to think of our energy supply as an organic mass. This mass has a known quantity. Which means someday our energy will run out when we leave the earth. All of us will die one day and with that our mass of energy will have run out. If someone gave you a calendar for all of the days you have left in this world, say a calendar that had the next 40 years lined out for you, would you change the course of your activity on a daily basis? Would you fret over the small stuff, like a clean house? Essentially that is what our life is only no one has given us the calendar. When you think of it that way, why would you ever waste one month, one week or one year not doing what truly makes us happy? This isn't to say we can't be sad or angry or jealous, those emotions are essential to life, too. But it is to say, why do we waste so much time on the fluff?
When someone gives a eulogy at a funeral they are usually one of the people closest to the deceased. That person has the honor and the duty of being the last individual to ever speak on this person's behalf. Have you ever thought about who would give your own eulogy? Or one step further, what would that person say about you? We take time to fill out on-line dating applications that make us answer questions like, what three words would your friends use to describe you? But have we ever sat back and looked at their answers in order to understand how we are perceived from the outside? We hope that they use good words. We hope that the person giving our eulogy says nice, honest and truthful things. (I can't say I've ever been to a funeral where they didn't say nice things.) You hope that those closest to you, who really know you, know what you're passionate about.
So why do we waste so much time on the fluff if we know our calendar has a limited number of days? Why do we get worked up over details that will have no consequence in the future or on someone's view of us? No one started a eulogy with, "Wanda was a really nice person. She had a really clean house, drove a really nice car and her bathroom had a huge marble tub. And her china, well it was just beautiful and her silver was always polished perfectly. Oh, and in the summer we all go out on her boat, she has a great party boat!"
Why don't you hear these things in a eulogy? Because they don't matter; they're fluff. None of the stuff we surround ourself with can go with us nor does it define us. And if you're friends ever use those phrases to describe you, then you should really evaluate the relationship because they don't know you, just your stuff. What does matter is how you treat people and how you treat yourself. People may forget your words but they never forget your actions. Did you help your friends out when they needed it? Did you support family who were going through tough times? Did you take care of your family? Did you give yourself solely for the benefit of another without any alterior motive? Did you take care of yourself? Were you a happy person?
Did you find your passion?
Life gets swept up by the constant "to do" list. Finding your passion should never be on that list.
I hope that if there is one trait people will remember me by it is that I'm genuine. Sincerity is one of the most important qualities in a person. Always knowing what is real in life, what is important and what really matters, can never be underestimated.
Work Hard/Play Harder/Laugh the Hardest and live with Passion!
If you have ever felt such tremendous enthusiasm and desire for something that you would gladly spend all your waking hours working on it, that you would happily do without pay, then you have found your passion.
-- Sharon Cook & Graciela Sholander
Monday, March 1, 2010
Deal Breakers: Help or Hindrance?
What's a deal breaker in a relationship? I asked this question of several people recently and got a variety of answers. If you've watched the show Seinfeld you know Jerry had a lot of deal breakers. There was the woman with the big hands, the woman who wore the same dress all the time, the soft talker and the girl who's toothbrush he dropped in the toilet. All of these seem pretty trivial but they are not too far from dating reality.
The challenge with deal breakers is separating the small stuff from the big stuff....like:
Biting Nails
Chewing with your mouth Open
Excessively Licking Your Lips
There are things that strike a chord in us and we sometimes think we could never date this person, ever. Like they say...they have:
Murdered someone
Sold drugs to children
Starred in a pornographic film
Do deal breakers really exist or are they just an excuse for not being attracted to someone? When we analyze details about people we're essentially judging them. We're judging that their behavior, actions or physical appearance are not what we consider acceptable for a partner. (Please note, I'm just as guilty as anyone of doing this and I'm trying to understand my own deal breakers.) When we look at another's table manners or bad shoes or bad teeth, are we really feeling detracted from that person or their bad shoes? Where do we draw the line from what is something we can't get passed to something that we can get around? Or are we just making an excuse because we're really not attracted to them deep down regardless of the stone washed jeans?
Does our list of deal breakers get longer or shorter as we go through life? Do we grow more accepting of things as we age and learn to focus on the bigger picture or does the opposite happen? We grow less and less tolerant with each passing year. We get to a point in our life where we decide we want to be single because living with another person is too difficult and requires too much compromise?
In my opinion I think the deal breaker list has a direct correlation to whether or not we think life is best enjoyed with the company of others, (as a couple), or by our self. Some people are completely happy being single so therefore they are less likely to compromise on things. The attitude of, "Why am I tolerating all of this b.s., I was perfectly happy before I was in this relationship." Or do we think, "I really don't like the fact that he plays Dungeons and Dragons at this age, but I'm happy when he's around so I'll accept it."
What about the deal breakers we just can't swallow no matter how hard we try? Like bad breath or snoring. How do you fix something that can't be fixed but drives you crazy. Do you focus on the positive things or do we take these as signs that we're just not a match?
I think when we are attracted to someone, really attracted to them, we possess the ability to look past small things because the feeling of being a couple is greater than any minor pet peeve. Maybe the deal breakers are just a way that our psyche tells us this isn't in the cards because if it was you wouldn't be focused on the fact that he is wearing a Van Halen T-shirt. Instead you would focus on the fact that under that Van Halen t-shirt is a six pack you can't keep your hands off of. You wouldn't focus on the fact that his hands are rough and he has raggedy nails, but the fact that he likes to hold your hand. When you reach the point of loving someone, holes in boxers, nose hair, leaving the seat up, all of that stuff seems to fade away. We have the ability and desire to push the crazy details to the background and focus on what's important and standing in front of us center stage with a big, huge spotlight on it.
They say love is blind. And I believe it.
But I'm pretty sure attraction is deaf and mute.
"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."
-St. Augustine
Work Hard/Play Harder/Laugh the Hardest and Love With Your Eyes Closed!
Mw
The challenge with deal breakers is separating the small stuff from the big stuff....like:
Biting Nails
Chewing with your mouth Open
Excessively Licking Your Lips
There are things that strike a chord in us and we sometimes think we could never date this person, ever. Like they say...they have:
Murdered someone
Sold drugs to children
Starred in a pornographic film
Do deal breakers really exist or are they just an excuse for not being attracted to someone? When we analyze details about people we're essentially judging them. We're judging that their behavior, actions or physical appearance are not what we consider acceptable for a partner. (Please note, I'm just as guilty as anyone of doing this and I'm trying to understand my own deal breakers.) When we look at another's table manners or bad shoes or bad teeth, are we really feeling detracted from that person or their bad shoes? Where do we draw the line from what is something we can't get passed to something that we can get around? Or are we just making an excuse because we're really not attracted to them deep down regardless of the stone washed jeans?
Does our list of deal breakers get longer or shorter as we go through life? Do we grow more accepting of things as we age and learn to focus on the bigger picture or does the opposite happen? We grow less and less tolerant with each passing year. We get to a point in our life where we decide we want to be single because living with another person is too difficult and requires too much compromise?
In my opinion I think the deal breaker list has a direct correlation to whether or not we think life is best enjoyed with the company of others, (as a couple), or by our self. Some people are completely happy being single so therefore they are less likely to compromise on things. The attitude of, "Why am I tolerating all of this b.s., I was perfectly happy before I was in this relationship." Or do we think, "I really don't like the fact that he plays Dungeons and Dragons at this age, but I'm happy when he's around so I'll accept it."
What about the deal breakers we just can't swallow no matter how hard we try? Like bad breath or snoring. How do you fix something that can't be fixed but drives you crazy. Do you focus on the positive things or do we take these as signs that we're just not a match?
I think when we are attracted to someone, really attracted to them, we possess the ability to look past small things because the feeling of being a couple is greater than any minor pet peeve. Maybe the deal breakers are just a way that our psyche tells us this isn't in the cards because if it was you wouldn't be focused on the fact that he is wearing a Van Halen T-shirt. Instead you would focus on the fact that under that Van Halen t-shirt is a six pack you can't keep your hands off of. You wouldn't focus on the fact that his hands are rough and he has raggedy nails, but the fact that he likes to hold your hand. When you reach the point of loving someone, holes in boxers, nose hair, leaving the seat up, all of that stuff seems to fade away. We have the ability and desire to push the crazy details to the background and focus on what's important and standing in front of us center stage with a big, huge spotlight on it.
They say love is blind. And I believe it.
But I'm pretty sure attraction is deaf and mute.
"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."
-St. Augustine
Work Hard/Play Harder/Laugh the Hardest and Love With Your Eyes Closed!
Mw
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Mw-isms: Quotes to Live By
Some days I hear the most random of comments and quotes that I wish I had a videotape to capture not only the way it was said but who said it.
Here are a few that I've collected and have been waiting to share. You may recognize some of them:
"Just because I swear doesn't mean I'm not sophisticated"
"Bitches Get Shit Done!"
"Be Stupid On Your Own Time"
"I literally feel like I could vom all over the place" -drunk metro rider
"Two people drinking constitutes a party, one person drinking
just constitutes an alcoholic"
"Say 'Ma'am' One More Time" -Annoyed women waiting on line at Giant
"Your face makes me want to get violent"
"The first mistake most guys make when trying to pick a women up at a bar is to assume she is less intelligent then he is" -Mw
Patient: "Wow, Dr. Smith is so cute, do you know if he is single?"
Receptionist: "No, I'm quite certain he is married and has three kids."
Patient: "Are you sure? I didn't see him wearing a wedding band?"
Receptionist: "Oh, I'm quite positive, you see I'm his wife!"
(Conversation overheard at my doctor's office; and yes my Doctor was that hot.)
"I realize why the shot is called a Red Headed Slut and not a Red Headed Girlfriend. A girlfriend would never leave you feeling so bad the next morning." -Mw
"Ooooh, they're turning the lights down, now I won't look so bad"
"Nothing good ever happens after midnight"
"Is it ok for a guy to wear UGZ and tuck his pants into them?"
"No, never!"
"But what if it's snowing out really bad?"
"Still, not a good look, trust me on this one."
Girlfriend (eyeing other girl on metro): "Why can't jeans look that good on me?"
Boyfriend: "Because you don't exercise and sit on the couch eating ice cream most nights."
(Que elbow to the stomach by girlfriend)
"The only girl who successfully wore white tights was chasing a rabbit and running late to a tea party." -Mw
********************************************
The best thing to come out of the second Harold & Kumar movie...
The Square Root of 3
I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three
The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine
For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic
I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality
When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three
As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer
We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed
By David Feinberg
*************************************
My Blog is One Year Old!
Thanks for Reading,
Mw
Here are a few that I've collected and have been waiting to share. You may recognize some of them:
"Just because I swear doesn't mean I'm not sophisticated"
"Bitches Get Shit Done!"
"Be Stupid On Your Own Time"
"I literally feel like I could vom all over the place" -drunk metro rider
"Two people drinking constitutes a party, one person drinking
just constitutes an alcoholic"
"Say 'Ma'am' One More Time" -Annoyed women waiting on line at Giant
"Your face makes me want to get violent"
"The first mistake most guys make when trying to pick a women up at a bar is to assume she is less intelligent then he is" -Mw
Patient: "Wow, Dr. Smith is so cute, do you know if he is single?"
Receptionist: "No, I'm quite certain he is married and has three kids."
Patient: "Are you sure? I didn't see him wearing a wedding band?"
Receptionist: "Oh, I'm quite positive, you see I'm his wife!"
(Conversation overheard at my doctor's office; and yes my Doctor was that hot.)
"I realize why the shot is called a Red Headed Slut and not a Red Headed Girlfriend. A girlfriend would never leave you feeling so bad the next morning." -Mw
"Ooooh, they're turning the lights down, now I won't look so bad"
"Nothing good ever happens after midnight"
"Is it ok for a guy to wear UGZ and tuck his pants into them?"
"No, never!"
"But what if it's snowing out really bad?"
"Still, not a good look, trust me on this one."
Girlfriend (eyeing other girl on metro): "Why can't jeans look that good on me?"
Boyfriend: "Because you don't exercise and sit on the couch eating ice cream most nights."
(Que elbow to the stomach by girlfriend)
"The only girl who successfully wore white tights was chasing a rabbit and running late to a tea party." -Mw
********************************************
The best thing to come out of the second Harold & Kumar movie...
The Square Root of 3
I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three
The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine
For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic
I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality
When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three
As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer
We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed
By David Feinberg
*************************************
My Blog is One Year Old!
Thanks for Reading,
Mw
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Seasonal Short Stories & Shout Outs
It's almost the end of another year and a tradition that I would like to start is writing a "Christmas Letter", but I've never done it. Now that I have a blog though I can easily dedicate this entry to some seasonal "shout outs" and of course, rants. The end of the year is a good time to do a check. You know the check that your teacher would do after going on a field trip in school? She would rattle off every one's name and make sure they were accounted for and on the bus. Now that I'm a grown-up, (per se), I like to do the same thing with my family and friends, did we all make it this year? Yes, we did. And for that alone I can say I'm fortunate because I know a lot of people probably have a different answer. If you're reading this blog say to yourself, "I survived another year, even with all of the trials and tribulations that may have come along with it, I survived."
In the world of wine a melange is a blend of incongruous elements. The following shorts are a blend of different experiences over the course of the year. Some are comical, some are sarcastic but all of them sincere.
***************************************************************************
One for the Metro:
Yesterday afternoon on a crowded train full of Saturday tourists, I spied a woman in her mid-twenties reading a large book with a large purse taking over the seat next to her. At the next stop two women get on and since there was no where to sit they stood. I would guess both women were in their late 60's and they grabbed a pole right in front of said woman with large book and large purse. She looked up, saw them, and put her head back down to continue reading. The women looked at her, saw the space she was reserving for her purse and just continued to hang on and smile. The next stop girl in twenties gets off the train. I couldn't help but notice the book she was reading because it was so large. It had gold leafing on the pages, a beautiful ribbon bookmark and colorful hard cover. Do you know what the rude, mid-twenties something, girl with the large purse taking it's own seat on a crowded Metro was reading? THE BIBLE.
At a bar in Alexandria...
I was out with some girlfriends one night and we needed a place to stash our coats. That's the one item no one wants to juggle while out at a bar, your big, heavy, winter coat. The bar was crowded but we spotted a shelf in the corner. One by one we went over and carefully piled our coats one on top of another. I went last and as I turned around a guy came over and started sifting through the pile of coats. He looked at me and said in a very snotty tone, "I just wanted to make sure you didn't take my coat!" I said, "Why would I take your coat?" He replied, "Well you never know; I wanted to make sure you didn't walk off with it or throw it on the floor!" He was a 20-something-wanna-be-frat-boy and that last line really boiled my blood. First of all, I have a lady's coat, why would I want a "boy's" coat. Unless, I walked in with a guy who wasn't wearing a coat and was shivering, I'm pretty sure you don't have to worry about me taking your coat. I walked passed him and said, "Look jack ass, I got no interest in you or your leather bomber jacket circa 1985!" I noticed that the tag was sticking out on his sweater and it said in big letters, 100% Cashmere. That may be what's on the inside, but on the outside he was a 40% cotton/poly blend, 60% douche bag.
Shout Outs...
I think of life as a constant juggling act. Sometimes we juggle three, four or five balls at a time. There is always one that is in each of our hands and there is one we have our eyes on, and the other is out of control. I think that's how life is sometimes, there will be parts that we can grasp and parts that we just can't seem to get a good handle on. I myself volleyed between having the employment ball and the physical ball a little erratic at times this year. But at the same time, I was fortunate to have the family and friend's ball to support me in either hand...
Thank you to my sister Gaby for taking excellent care of me for the two weeks I spent recovering after my back surgery. I would have never made it without you and your every loyal assistant, Emmi. I was able to lay by the pool all day and have someone cook for me each night. It was like I was one of those women who go to a spa so they can recover from plastic surgery!
To my sister Marilyn for always reading my blog, providing feedback and showing support of my dream of becoming a writer. Your comments are always appreciated!
To the friends who I was able to reconnect with this year thanks to FB. And to the people who defriended me after friending me on FB, that's probably for the best and I'm sorry for your loss.
To the rude, ignorant and crazy: Thank you. You are what inspires me to be a nicer person, better sister, friend, aunt and co-worker. I model your behavior by doing the exact opposite of how you've conducted yourself. You provide me with my blog rants and give me the most valuable lessons learned. The worst experiences really do make the best stories.
To all of the friends that I have spotted from going out the past 11 nights in a row: thank you for spending some time celebrating the holidays with me. I enjoyed every minute, every story, every shot, every photo, every piece of cheese, every glass of wine and of course, every laugh! My friends are fun and provide me with many things to smile about. The sounds of your laughter are forever a part of my holiday memories.
Here's to all of my family and friends for making it back on the bus!
Only the Best of Wishes,
Mw
In the world of wine a melange is a blend of incongruous elements. The following shorts are a blend of different experiences over the course of the year. Some are comical, some are sarcastic but all of them sincere.
***************************************************************************
One for the Metro:
Yesterday afternoon on a crowded train full of Saturday tourists, I spied a woman in her mid-twenties reading a large book with a large purse taking over the seat next to her. At the next stop two women get on and since there was no where to sit they stood. I would guess both women were in their late 60's and they grabbed a pole right in front of said woman with large book and large purse. She looked up, saw them, and put her head back down to continue reading. The women looked at her, saw the space she was reserving for her purse and just continued to hang on and smile. The next stop girl in twenties gets off the train. I couldn't help but notice the book she was reading because it was so large. It had gold leafing on the pages, a beautiful ribbon bookmark and colorful hard cover. Do you know what the rude, mid-twenties something, girl with the large purse taking it's own seat on a crowded Metro was reading? THE BIBLE.
At a bar in Alexandria...
I was out with some girlfriends one night and we needed a place to stash our coats. That's the one item no one wants to juggle while out at a bar, your big, heavy, winter coat. The bar was crowded but we spotted a shelf in the corner. One by one we went over and carefully piled our coats one on top of another. I went last and as I turned around a guy came over and started sifting through the pile of coats. He looked at me and said in a very snotty tone, "I just wanted to make sure you didn't take my coat!" I said, "Why would I take your coat?" He replied, "Well you never know; I wanted to make sure you didn't walk off with it or throw it on the floor!" He was a 20-something-wanna-be-frat-boy and that last line really boiled my blood. First of all, I have a lady's coat, why would I want a "boy's" coat. Unless, I walked in with a guy who wasn't wearing a coat and was shivering, I'm pretty sure you don't have to worry about me taking your coat. I walked passed him and said, "Look jack ass, I got no interest in you or your leather bomber jacket circa 1985!" I noticed that the tag was sticking out on his sweater and it said in big letters, 100% Cashmere. That may be what's on the inside, but on the outside he was a 40% cotton/poly blend, 60% douche bag.
Shout Outs...
I think of life as a constant juggling act. Sometimes we juggle three, four or five balls at a time. There is always one that is in each of our hands and there is one we have our eyes on, and the other is out of control. I think that's how life is sometimes, there will be parts that we can grasp and parts that we just can't seem to get a good handle on. I myself volleyed between having the employment ball and the physical ball a little erratic at times this year. But at the same time, I was fortunate to have the family and friend's ball to support me in either hand...
Thank you to my sister Gaby for taking excellent care of me for the two weeks I spent recovering after my back surgery. I would have never made it without you and your every loyal assistant, Emmi. I was able to lay by the pool all day and have someone cook for me each night. It was like I was one of those women who go to a spa so they can recover from plastic surgery!
To my sister Marilyn for always reading my blog, providing feedback and showing support of my dream of becoming a writer. Your comments are always appreciated!
To the friends who I was able to reconnect with this year thanks to FB. And to the people who defriended me after friending me on FB, that's probably for the best and I'm sorry for your loss.
To the rude, ignorant and crazy: Thank you. You are what inspires me to be a nicer person, better sister, friend, aunt and co-worker. I model your behavior by doing the exact opposite of how you've conducted yourself. You provide me with my blog rants and give me the most valuable lessons learned. The worst experiences really do make the best stories.
To all of the friends that I have spotted from going out the past 11 nights in a row: thank you for spending some time celebrating the holidays with me. I enjoyed every minute, every story, every shot, every photo, every piece of cheese, every glass of wine and of course, every laugh! My friends are fun and provide me with many things to smile about. The sounds of your laughter are forever a part of my holiday memories.
Here's to all of my family and friends for making it back on the bus!
Only the Best of Wishes,
Mw
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