Accept No Substitutes!

Slightly disheartened that I came across www.ihavewritersblog.com today. A website with MY blog name!

I think I just understood for the first time what my darling artist sister experiences pretty much every hour of the day with major companies publishing work that looks alarmingly (to me) like her unique, stylized art. You think you're carving a space for yourself being creative, but people are always on your heels. I'm not creative very often, so it's not something I usually deal with. It happens sometimes with fashion. I dress so weird that when someone dresses like me it stands out (see also: Skirt-over-pants, 1997).

I'd probably write him a Passive/Aggressive Lilly Letter(R), but he's an aspiring writer, and God knows it's the one population I have a weak spot for, so I'll let him be.

The good news is whoever bought the website eventual succumbed to the self-titled issue; he just wrote a few posts, and then left. A quick skim of the website tells me he wrote fan letters to Carol Burnett (whereas I wrote them to Jason Priestly). Other than that, we aren't very similar, so don't be confused. Accept no substitutes! The Original! The one and only! Basically if you hit a website and it's not talking about the wilderness of dating, the misbehavior of other people, or useless pop culture, you have been FAKEROLLED!

Getting the website and abandoning it? The horror. It's like salt in the wound.

It's one thing to take my cute little handle, another to not even do it justice! LE SIIIIIIIIGH.

Ok, I feel better now.

Just Because It's Pink Don't Make It a Valentine

I loved the movie Up in the Air. I didn't like the ending, but I loved the writing. And the corporate culture of firing is something I have never ("Tanks God!") been privy to.

Now: a dating story.

It went like this- I met a guy online, and we set up a date. I didn't actually want to go on said date, because the guy seemed like a dud, BUT he had a picture of himself with a painting and a picture of himself in the role of a volunteer Big Brother, so I decided not to judge. We obviously know where not following my gut instinct has taken me before, but OH WELL...

So anyhow, our phone conversation, when we finally connected, was such a dud that I rushed to set the date. He asked for a weekend date, so I gave him my happy hour Friday slot- it seemed like the right thing to do. Don't bank too much on him, don't give him a whole weekend night when I knew barely anything about him (except that he had stood in front of a painting in Dayton and that he passed some sort of volunteer screening test and children don't run screaming from him). I offered to let him pick the place and his suggestion was "Ok! How's Cozymel?"

Um, Cozymel is fine. In the same way El Torito is fine. In the same way ChiChis is fine. In the same way TGIFriday's is fine. As in, it's fine if you're 16, not so much if you're 40. Which he was. And we'll find out why he was 40 and single after the jump...

So anyhow, I show up for the date and to my surprise he's better looking than his pictures. Dude was apparently not photogenic and/or he had posted pictures from 10 years ago and had aged better. He looked good. The kind of all-American good where the waitress leaned in a lot when talking to him.

We started talking and while we had a lot to talk about, we had zero chemistry. We got along, but there was none of the playful banter one might hope for on a date. To be honest, at points I was afraid to make jokes, worried they might go a little over his head. He was a successful businessman and was obviously a sharp guy. I gasped audibly when he said he was a Republican, but was distracted by the fact that this conversation came up in the context of him revealing he'd been at the last Madonna concert. (Come on, people, you know my weaknesses).

Anyhow, it was going FINE. First dates are awkward, we all know that. But I knew things were going ok, because he had already mentioned that we should go downtown for our next date, etc etc. So I just went with it, figuring that there was enough interesting material there that I should stay open to date 2. Plus he had a nice smile, and I'm a sucker for a smile.

He asked a lot of questions, so I would answer. He asked about my background and what languages I spoke, so I told him. We found out we did the same MBA Marketing program. Then he asked me if I remember how tough the GMAT was. I'm not one to lie, so I told him "I don't know". He asked why and I confessed that I waived out of that requirement. He kept pressing - HOW did I waive out? I told him I was a lawyer.

At this point he sat back, and crossed his arms. I am not exaggerating, this was his actual physical reaction. And then he said -- in a voice that was none too approving -- "Well aren't YOU accomplished? A lawyer, an MBA, you speak 4 languages..." This was followed, in no short order, by him asking the waitress for the check.
Yikes. I felt like I was on a game show and I'd given the wrong answer! I even tried to backpedal and explain that I never tell people I'm a lawyer because I don't have that personality and people always assume this or that based on knowing it. But dude was checked OUT.

I received an email the next day. It read (AND I QUOTE)

"I'm glad I had the chance to meet you. While it was clear that you have many virtuous qualities, I am seeking intangibles that can only be assessed upon meeting in person... I wish you the best of luck with your search."

Seriously, he might as well have added "We will keep your resume on file..."

I was FIRED!

I wish I could say this was the first time I was dumped by someone who I wasn't dating, but sadly, it isn't. Maybe someone somewhere out there in cyberworld has insight into this phenomenon.

I wonder if he thought I'd tell people he's the owner of a prominent yoga studio in La Jolla and that I'd smear campaign him. But I'm not into smearing, lucky for him. Plus he didn't wrong me. I don't mind that we didn't click (and hellz yeah was I quick to reply that "I felt the same way!") BUT such a formal rejection note was a bit much for my taste. Presumptive, don't you think? I got pink slipped from a job I never applied for! The least they could have done was send George Clooney over to fire me, sheesh.

So here's the lesson: you can't judge a book by its cover, but you sure as hell can judge a guy by where he takes you on the first date! Buyer beware.

Pole Position

I know my last post was about tango, but I like to mix it up. God forbid I keep up that class act. In my last class my dance partner said to me "YOU ARE NOT THE PILOT!" I put it in caps because this little Argentinian was truly flustered by me. I can't blame him. I've realized that, while I love tango and intend to continue my lessons, I am not a born follower. I can follow if a guy reallllllly knows how to lead, and quite enjoy doing it (following) but some guys think a nudge here or there equals leading, and then I just find myself taking over. These guys I was dancing with were the dance equivalent of a limp handshake.

So this week I decided it was time to go partner dance with an inanimate object. Groupon sent us the option to buy 4 poledancing classes for a steal, and I forwarded it to a some girlfriends, the ones I had a sneaking suspicion would be interested. I meant it as a joke/dare more than anything, but then the first email response "I got mine! When are we going?" showed up in my inbox. Before I knew it, 5 of us were set up and we began class.

Now, I really tried not to judge. Sure, there were jokes being emailed back and forth about going to "Stripper High" and debating exactly what one should wear for this form of "fitness". But I was open minded about it.
The night of our debut class we eventually found our way to the studio, which was a small, one-room office backed up to a cheap Chinese restaurant, a car dealership, and Denny's. It wasn't promising, but again, trying not to judge. I also tried not to judge when the door opened and we walked in and the "office" was a card table. I mean, not even a $25 craigslist desk, a straight up card table. I thought, hey, maybe they're renovating! But let's just say the ambiance did little to make us feel that we weren't, well, strippers.

I filled out the Emergency Contact form and handed it over before realizing I had put my father as the point of contact. Um, oops.

We put on our high heels and workout clothes and lined up at the poles. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that my shoes were 4 inch gold heels. When in Rome, people.

Before beginning, we were quickly instructed to clean the poles off. Now, sadly, I know this is what strippers actually have to do - I once cheered a depressed friend up by taking him to a strip club on a Monday night. Apparently Monday night is amateur night (that's a joke, but only slightly). In between dancers each girl would walk up with her bottle of Windex and paper towel. There's something to be said for ambiance, I'll say it again.

So there we were, wiping down the poles with rubbing alcohol. Which leads me to wonder, um, exactly *who* is taking these classes? I take all sorts of athletic and dance classes, but this is the first time I've been asked to formally disinfect the equipment (and nevermind that we were using the same 4 washcloths every other girl had used, so not really sure I see the point).

Class begins.

The instructor walks up, and isn't quite what I imagined she'd look like, but she had beautiful legs. The rest of her was busted street. Honestly, she might have been cute, but she refused to smile, so I will continue to call her Busted Street. I have to confess there was some discussion as to whether she was possibly pregnant. I say that not to judge her body type but because we were in actual amazement if she could flip upside down and in and around with a baby in there. But we decided (courtesy of 2 of my friends, doctors on hand) that she was just "not holding it in". She was wearing stripper shoes and offered us a good deal on a pair if we wanted them. Talk about putting the platform before the pole!

The first move we learned was "Sexy Walk". And here's what I have to say about that: if you have to call it Sexy Walk, chances are it ISN'T. There's nothing like watching yourself in a full length mirror, with dim lighting for an hour to realize how sexy you are or are not. Then we moved to swinging around the pole (easier than it looks). My friend later remarked to me that "I just spent an hour realizing how sexy I'm not. This was a beginner class?? I should be in remedial then."

I did alright, a few spins here, some smooth moves there. But I fully lost it when we got to floor moves. For 20 minutes we were basically recreating scenes from glam rock videos. ("Goddess pose!" she'd yell, without a drop of irony) I mean, we were a step short of going out to the parking lot and rolling around the sports cars at the dealership next door.

Our instructor was ornery, which of course just made me laugh more. We'd crack jokes, but she wasn't having it. She wanted us to pole dance like our lives depended on it. Unfortunately just a peek to my left would reveal my friend (a doctor by day) swinging around the pole hollering "I wanna be a stripppppppppeeeeeeer! I wanna beeeeeee a strippeeeeeeer!" like a kid who'd been let loose after eating a Costco size bag of sugar. The instructor didn't laugh. Apparently there is a line between pole fitness and stripping. Who knew?

Toward the end, our instructor proudly informed us that she'd be competing in a reality show. "Just like American Idol!" Um, but *not*?! Reality tv at its best, I'm sure. Oh so sorry I missed it.

So the good news is that pole dancing is really fun. The bad news is people who do this actually take themselves seriously. And now I might have to too.

It Takes Two.

So this year while blissfully flitting around the pool in Indonesia ("Resolution 1: Travel more") the first week of January, I worked on my New Year's Resolutions list. Most people make one, but I like to make a list, so I can cross a few off during the year and feel good about myself for the rest of it. Basically.

As I discussed with my girlfriends what my goals for 2010 would be, I announced "Learn to tango!" I realized, swimming around, complimentary tropical drink in hand, tempting sunstroke, that as soon as I returned, the tango class I had signed up for would begin. So I retroactively put "Learn to tango" on the resolutions list.

To be honest, I didn't have much of a sense of what tango would be like. It looks like a dramatic, passionate dance from what I've seen (which, granted, is 90% "Dancing With the Stars"). My reasons for taking it on weren't that I was inviting drama into my life (although passion, please note, you're welcome anytime). It was because although I have been a dancer my whole life, the forms of dance I have gravitated to were all individual or company dance. Nothing duetty. I did the normal suburban American kid dance classes (jazz, ballet, tap, oh my!) and when I was old enough to choose I went for hip hop. There was no hand holding and certainly no following anyone else's lead. I choreographed, I was the boss.

I decided that for 2010 I wanted to learn to let someone *else* handle the decisionmaking. In this way, tango was perfect for me. You get into your hold and then follow the male lead as they turn you this way or that, directing you with their torso and the slightest of gestures.

Now, I'm only about a month into the class, going once a week, but I have already learned so much. Yeah, of course I"ve learned the dance stuff- frame, balance, and my favorite new move, aka "clean your shoe on his leg" (yes, this is what they call that seductive footsie move when you are in a beginner class). Here's what I've learned -- so far.

1) Much like the Transformers, there's more than meets the eye. I'm taking my class at UCSD, so I expected a high percentage of nerdage. I'm not gonna say I was disappointed BUT I will tell you that the nerdy, sweet, unsuspecting guy could very well be the best dancer in class. And the macho looking men who you'd think would be the best dancers are (in my experience) just bossy dancers. Um, I'm paying the instructor, not you, so no need to tutor me Mr. He's Been in Class Two Weeks Longer Than Me. My dance partner the first week Li Ming, a quiet guy, led me with great posture and noted that "when we dance together it's like a ballet!" At first I laughed, but then I realized he was kinda right.

2) Everyone wants to be a professional tango dancer. Self-explanatory. There are a few people in the class who are there because they're intent on becoming professional tango dancers. Keep in mind we're taking what is basically a community class. I just thought that was notable. I mean, I've gone my whole life without meeting a single person whose aspirations involved professional tangoage, but now it's very de rigeur.

3) Tango dance students are the worst dressers. Possibly on the planet. I'm showing some restraint here, but let's just say that the first week's class involved a girl in a pair of hot pink cotton gaucho pants that looked like they were made for someone 7 feet tall. And I thought of forgiving them... until they caught wind and lifted to reveal...black clogs.

4) My teacher came to class the first week in two different shoes. I don't mean she changed shoes the way Diana Ross, ahem, Beyonce, changes costumes at an award show. I mean she had one shoe on her left foot and a completely different one on her right.

5) The tango mirrors male-female relationships. I'd go into this more, but Gloria Steinem's on the other line, so I'm going to choose my words carefully and revisit this one.

6) Tango is the only place where men can wear shoes with a slight heel and look ok. Oh wait, no they don't. I'm sure you're a great dancer, tango-shod guy who I danced with the first week, but your footwear also makes me feel slightly like I'm dancing with another woman.

7) People's interest in tango is inversely proportional to their interest in brushing their teeth.

8) Tango people suck at math. NO they really do. I thought they were all science people, but now I'm sensing the liberal arts because whenever the teachers tell us to pair off there is mass confusion. I don't mean for a second, I mean there is confusion where the teachers have to stop class and line us up... in TWO LINES. You would never in a million years think you were dealing with a group of functioning, professional adults. Which is fine, because I'm always game for mild entertainment. It's like kickball-team-selection-mayhem all over again.

For many weeks there has been a serious man shortage. It's like WWII all over again (I imagine, not having lived through the era myself). However, with every week the deficit is being addressed, and in last week's class, we were only one guy short.

Time after time I found myself dancing alone (and by alone I mean not even my teacher would stay to pity dance with me before rushing off to check form). I figured that's no big deal for one dance, and that when the song changed to a new one, I'd rotate into a new partner, as per the format of the class. However, everyone would move around, partner up, and I was STILL DANCING ALONE. This happened for an hour straight. At one point I even walked up to a couple and said "Hate to break you guys up!" because everyone else was rotating and this was clearly a college couple not ready to part. So they looked down and then to the wall until I walked away.

Suffice it to say that for the rest of the night, I just tried to look very very busy while everyone stayed paired off.

I'm not even going to go to expand on the analogies for this one. Suffice it to say next week I'll be bringing a friend.

Why You Should Spend Your Time Wisely & Bonus Feature!: How To Spend Any Leftover Time.

Author's note: Like life, which has equal parts happy and sad, so will this blog post. Buyer beware!

THE SAD PART

It's been a tough week boys and girls. I wanted to start this post with a wisecrack, but I honestly don't have one. Do me a favor and take a moment and think of anyone in your life you feel you've neglected (well, the people who weren't asking for it). Call them. Write them. Spend time with them. That's what I'm taking away from this week, where two people I cared about passed away. Suddenly one day they're not there any more. It's that simple and that complex all at once.

One was an older gentleman who I grew up living next door to in the summers. A true thespian, booming voice and laugh, very grandfatherly and kind to me year after year, even when I shamed him for being a Notre Dame fan. I had just emailed him (on Facebook, of all things) a few weeks ago, but didn't hear back, and yesterday got the note from his daughter that he had passed. With age I suppose we come to understand that elderly people can't be here forever, as much as we wish they could.

But the kick in the face this week was when I realized how much I take for granted that the young ones will be around too. We really do think we're invincible. The second friend who passed this week was young... younger than me, actually. Strong, healthy, always smiling, sharp as anything. And absolutely devoted to my friend, his new wife, in the most genuine way. I can't get my mind around it, to tell you the truth. The words of that phone call are ringing in my head, and have been for almost a week now. Some part of me probably thinks if I say it enough or write it enough it will sink in. But it isn't.

THE SAD PART: CALL TO ACTION

So before you read anything further, before we return to our regularly scheduled program, make your calls, return the emails, do it all. I have a new rule: if someone comes into my mind, I'm going to make the time. I've been doing that for a few weeks now - if I have the impulse to contact someone, I just do it, to see where it takes me. So far this week my Impulse PeopleConnect Movement (tm) has brought me news of an elementary school friend who is now pregnant with twins as well as tales of how crappy my Sprint phone service is from a guy who has been trying to call me all week. (Direct quote from my friend/attorney: "We should sue Sprint for interfering with your love life with bad service! Negligent Infliction of Emotional Distress!")

THE HAPPIER PART:

In other news, my sister and I went out to dinner with some girlfriends tonight and somehow the conversation turned to punishment. Actually, scratch the "somehow". It came up because our friend is a mediator and she had to mediate the case of a parent who couldn't find acceptable punishment for their kid (an abusive drug dealer). The parent refused to put the boy in his room because doing so "would be sensory deprivation." My sister replied: "Um, isn't that the POINT?!"

And so the conversation evolved to how we were punished as children. Susie and I were discussing our parent's default, which was that we had to go sit in the downstairs hallway bathroom, lights off, until it was time to come out and apologize for whatever that day's transgression was.

Pretty basic stuff, right?

But the conversation had the benefit of Susie's insanely good memory. Before I knew it, we were not discussing the punishments but rather the ambiance of said bathroom. The fact that it was mirrored on many sides, so you were locked in to face yourself (or rather the concept that yourself was reflected all around you, but you couldn't see this, because it was dark. And also because you were a borderline "small person" and probably couldn't see over the counter until you were a teen.)

We talked about the drawer and Susie listed the items from memory: bandaids, "one pencil". She apparently used to open the bandaids and try to close them again, but they'd never close quite right (this explains a lot because I vaguely recall going to get bandaids and wondering why they were half-peeled). She remembered the lacy brass garbage can and the metallic wallpaper.

So that's Susie's memory.

Do you know what mine is?...

It's of a CALCULATOR. My one memory in that bathroom involves sitting on the toilet in the dark doing math.

I remember the old calculator, I remember the glow in the dark red display. I remember my sheer joy typing in numbers (my dinner companions tonight asked what type of math I was doing. Answer: It was basic addition and also trying to see what words I could spell upside down.)

Whether I took the calculator with me or whether I had stashed it there remains up for discussion. I wasn't supposed to have anything in there with me, so now I'm troubled with the question of whether I went and sat in there in the dark voluntarily to do math, which is all sorts of sad. Or did I take the calculator in there during my punishment and my parents *let* it slide because, well, if your kid is that much of a loser, you might as well cut your losses?

* * *

Tonight's laughter about the Bathroom Chronicles and everything else we discussed felt like breath was coming back to me for the first time all week. My mom always says "Life is a tragedy to those who feel, and a comedy to those who think." You do the math.

Volunteering Ain't Just For High School

I think we can all agree that Facebook really highlights the unexpected suckiness of people around us. We see it all the time; an offhanded status update, the obnoxious and completely not PC Youtube clip they post to their wall, etc.

Today my grievance is with everyone who wrote "Oh my gosh I am SOOOO devastated about Haiti" the first day. I can't count the number of status updates I read like that. Then suddenly... SILENCE. When I sent out my call for volunteers, donations, help in Haiti, suddenly they all went silent. The same people who "couldn't tear themselves away from the television" didn't have time to consider what they might actually *do*.

In today's information age (as much as I hate that phrase) people feel like by chiming in with emotion they are doing something. Because sometimes it creates a tipping point (see: Iranian protesters, 2009. Enough people Tweeted about it that it got increased media coverage and they could spread information. But that situation is different because action from over here would have done nothing, so a purely emotional, e-response was somewhat justifiable).

My friend and I discussed this the other night over a nice dinner punctuated by Jersey Shore-ish behavior at the table next to us (note to us: next time skip PB Sushi on "Sake Special" night). In between the crying of the girl next to us (she appeared to be crying about a guy, but she was more likely crying about the fact that she's a dead ringer for Snookie), my friend and I discussed how lame people's Facebook "activism" can be.

I'd like to harken to another example. The day that everyone posted a color as their status. "Red!" "Pink!" "Black!" "White!" Which led everyone else to wonder why the hell people (always women) were doing this. And then it came out: you were supposed to post the color of your bra, and create a frenzy of confusion. And THIS was somehow supposed to raise awareness about breast cancer.

Um. Ok.

Now, I'd like to ask a breast cancer survivor how she feels about that.

So it seems that we have this magical tool of the internet and all these social networks, but what can be used for immense good can also be used for immense stupidity. It's just a crazy world in which Farmville (whatever the f that is) gets the same space as pleas for social justice. And probably actually gets *more* attention. So basically what I'm saying is that Facebook has quickly taught me how dumb people are.

That said, if you *have* been inspired by what you've seen about Haiti and want to help, there are one billion ways to do it. Tell your doctor friends that medical volunteers are needed (some of them don't even realize it until they're told!), collect the simplest of medicines and donate them to a local collection spot, drop $5 to a charity online. Literally every bit helps. My personal charity will be Real Medicine Foundation. Not to hate on Wyclef's charity, and good for him for having one, but I really never got over his remake of Stayin Alive. ("Looka Looka Looka Shorty got back...Should I ax her for a dance? There's so many in the wolfpack...")

I don't mean to overlook the "real" news of the week (Conan O'Brien vs. Jay Leno: The Contest That Isn't Really Even A Contest Because I Think We Can All Agree That Jay Leno Isn't Funny).

But just had to get this off my chest.

In other news, I've started taking tango. Tonight was my second class and it was yet another hour of pure comedy (and less because of my dance skillz than the general dressing and demeanor of my lovely dance colleagues). I need to get a videocamera stat.

The Resume

We always use resumes to apply for jobs. Well, the other day I was whining to Jon via Twitter about hanging out before he left town for a trip, and I realized I sounded like a nag, so I followed it up with a comment about how "today, the role of Jon's needy girlfriend will be played by Lilly". Which was funny given that I'm not his girlfriend. I'm just a friend of the female persuasion who wanted to get in some hang out time (but seriously - Jon, if you're listening, call me when you get back...)

Since Jon does not have a naggy girlfriend, he suggested that I apply for this position formally, and submit a resume/application.

Which of course led us to consider what such an application would look like. What would a dating application, if it was a pen-and-paper thing, possibly consist of? If we put it into the typical resume format, it might go a little something like this. As a girl I'm gonna come from that side of things, but I'd love to hear how a guy would approach it. (Jon? Jon, are you out there? Call me Jon!)

-------

Objective: Well, here's what, just like in a real resume, you'd load it up with what you know they want to hear. These I'm sure would range from the truthful to the blatantly false.

"Looking to find someone to have fun with and take care of."

"To create a relationship that other people will envy."

"To find the person who will compliment me the most on a daily basis."

I'm not sure how the golddiggers would spin this (can the gold diggers even spell?).


Romantic Education: I would not recommend that ladies tell the truth here. No one wants to hear about how many Lifetime movies you've watched. Romantic Comedies are not the school of education a guy wants you graduating from, and we all went there for undergrad. In general, romantic comedies and television suggest that men are always properly groomed, have witty conversation, and are motivated to date. They essentially set up a domino chain of expectations, and guys know this. US Weekly is bad news too. This is one job where work experience is more important than pedigree -- pull a Bill Gates and move on to the Employment section. Skip education and move to the real world.

Current Employment: If you are currently "employed" as a girlfriend, you probably shouldn't be applying.
Memo to Tiger, who apparently faxed his resume all over town.

Previous Work Experience: Here, your goal is to list each previous relationship, duration, skills learned, and of course the "Reason for Leaving". No one wants to see that you're a job-hopper, you know? If I had my way, you'd be able to take some space to critique the job (wish that was true of the run-of-the-mill resume too).

Sample from the Resume of Jenny A.
"Bradley P. 1998-August 2005
Reason for Leaving: Relationship intercepted by maneater.

Samples from resume of me

"Mr. Y June 2002- Sept 2002
Reason for Leaving: Subtly Fired.
Rebuttal: I learned the valuable lesson of not dating someone who refers to himself in the third person...
and using his nickname."

"Mr. X November 2 2004- November 11 2004
Reason for Leaving: On second date, the other individual confessed previously owning an ear collection
(put together and preserved by himself), ie. I resigned. (true story)"

This section would really give a person perspective on where you're coming from, any habits you seem to have (example: just heard about a woman whose fifth engagement broke off. future daters might want to see the previous work history on that one)

Skills: Get your minds out of the gutter! This ain't that kind of party. Skills could include "ability to entertain myself on football Sundays"; "great interest in cooking for poker night then making myself scarce"; "forgiveness"; "learned talent for grinning and bearing inlaws"

Interests: Just like a job, you're gonna tweak this to impress the audience. No one is writing "surfing porn" on their resumes, now are they? But they're doing it, 20/20 says so! So your interests can be charming things like "learning new meatloaf recipes!" "finding new sports teams to root for!" (note the exclamation points- they exhibit enthusiasm)

References: This is a tough one- while girls wouldn't mind a girl friend or two vouching for a new guy, the idea of a girl having references is just shady. References might be avoided unless you have a friend in common.

Of course, as with any application process, the resume would best be accompanied by a flowery cover letter explaining why the candidate feels they are a good match for the other party. It would also, for those of us who are complete snobs, help us weed out the people who simply can't write.

And resumes leave a written record of the person. Resumes that are passed over by one party might be passed around or saved for future reference. You know, on a lonely weekend, you could just go through your file and ask if they're still interested in the position.

The more I think about it, instituting a resume application procedure could really revolutionalize dating. For one thing, as soon as a fight broke out, one party could pull out the resume and point out any misrepresentations. "You said you were a world traveler. An annual ski trip to Canada does NOT make you a world traveler!"

Ah, love.

Moon. Black. Dating: A Conversation in Threes.

There's a lot of material to cover, mostly because my mind is racing (thank you Stumptown coffee!)

1. New Moon. I feel like we just need to get it out of the way. I saw it despite the fact that I didn't read the book; Twilight was more than enough for me, thank you. It was a great example of a book I would have rolled my eyes and thrown on the floor and never in a ZILLION years accepted as a submission, and yet it's been published to the accolades of pubescent teens worldwide.

I feel like I need to mention that I didn't pay for the movie, like that somehow makes it
better. I should also add in that it was pouring out, and my credit card had already taken quite a beating. We were at an outdoor mall, so this was the only option. Kinda.

Anyhow, the first 20 minutes were dreadful. I never saw the first movie so I got worried. Like "Is there a book in my car I can go read instead?" kinda worried. Jacob's hair was a major concern, mostly because it looked like mine for the duration of junior high. But then it picked up. Once I got past any bad acting and questionable special effects, I was able to enjoy the movie. And by the movie, I mean Taylor Lautner's abs, which deserved their own credit. When he took his shirt off I might have said "God Bless America!"... out loud.

Bonus round: found this parody online.

2. Black Friday. So I've decided that doing the whole Black Friday shopping thing is a learned behavior. Because my parents never did it, neither did I. So I decided at the ripe old age of 32 to give it a whirl. A friend was driving out to the Cabazon outlets in Palm Springs to do midnight shopping on Thanksgiving, and I invited myself. I liked to think of it as a sociological undertaking. I was the Jane Goodall of Shopaholics. But I wasn't totally, because Jane Goodall would have worn a button down and khakis and I wore jeans and 4" platforms just in case there were dresses I wanted to try on. I might have also worn a camasol for easy trying-on of clothing minus dressing room (my friend: "We have to beat my fellow Koreans! No dressing rooms!") I saw things I had only heard about- whether it was the 5 hour line for Gucci or the fact that there wasn't a parking space to be had at midnight (we parked in someone's lot, which turned out to not really be their lot, as noted by the "tow" sign on our window in the morning).

The sad part is I didn't even score crazy finds, but I did get fingerless gloves and a pair of cheap looking Ugg knockoff cheetah print boots. What else could a girl want?

3. New Rules of Dating. The more I date, the more I have to add to my mental list. For example, new rule: sharing is caring, but it can also be trouble. On a recent date, I told him the story of the ear collector. It was an icebreaker! It was a funny story to tell (re-enact). But then when we got around to the conversation about planning a second date, he brought up a good point: "You gave the ear collector a second date, so if I didn't get one, that would just be sad."

Checkmate!

The good news is this guy seems nice and isn't quite the freakfest that "Jason Ears" (as he's saved in my phone) was. Also, to my defense, I didn't know the guy was a reformed "ear collector" until date two. It's not like he told me on date one and I was like "ooh, tell me more! next week! meet me at 7!"

But I think we've all learned a little lesson about sharing.

The Lexiconographicus of You

I don't really know what to do with the fact that people blatantly make up words.

This has been an ongoing problem for me. I know my sister finds it hilarious when people say "supposably" and has turned it into a self-entertaining sport.

Me: So then I saw him and he said that *supposedly* they weren't going to go.

Her: Did you just say "supposably"?

Me: No, I said supposedly.

Her: No, um, I'm pretty sure you said "supposably".

Me: NO! Why would I say "supposably"?! It's not even a word.

Her: But you said it.

Me: (jumping off bridge) I would never!!!!!!

Her: Just kidding...

But it's not just supposably/supposedly. This goes on all day long, all around the country. People make words up and other people nod and smile and perhaps withhold a smirk but don't CORRECT them.

I just saw it today. I was at the gym (just establishing my alibi) and somehow Oprah had decided it was high time she invite Jenna Jameson, "The Most Famous Porn Star in the World" to be on her show. ("Supposably" I know better than to watch stuff like this...) Anyway, Jenna wanted everyone to know that there is a big misconception that she's "a slut" (her words, not mine) but that she actually did many of her films with her then-husband.

I was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. I really was. I mean, she had had her repeatedly-done-implants reduced, she had good posture, and she had been "retired" for a year. I listened closely as she said that she just did porn because she could make a lot of money, but she wanted people to know she's a good business woman. The implication was that she was smart, and I *almost* believed her. Until she said that women loved her work with her husband because there was a "comfortability" between them.

Um, not a word Jenna. Thanks for playing.

What's worse is that Oprah didn't even wince. But she was probably wondering what was even happening to her career that she was sitting on stage next to Jenna Jameson instead of Dr. Oz. Earlier in the week she had interviewed the lady who was attacked by a chimp. So her mind might have been on ratings more than grammar, one presumes. She even made a pathetic plug for her own magazine. Oh, Oprah!

I couldn't believe my little ears! Comfortability?! I wanted to turn around to the septuagenarians around me at the YMCA, walking their 2mph on the treadmill, and ask them if they heard what I did. I thought about it, but that would have required showing them that I was intently watching a Jenna Jameson interview, so I voted against that move.

Now, being the nerd that I am, I came home and looked this up. The ONLY entry on the internet for "Comfortability" is on a wiki dictionary. In other words, the word doesn't actually exist except for in one place, by someone (possibly Jenna herself) who typed that entry.

I'm an advocate of letting the English language breathe, and adopting conversational English into the lexicon as needed. I admit I use emoticons more than necessary (although to my defense my big emoticon-faux-pas is using winks, something I use excessively in person as well). I'm not sure if I'm alone in this battle. Am I like author Lynne Truss, who was a one-woman picket line against the improperly punctuated title of the Hugh Grant/Sandra Bullock cinematic masterpiece (I say this without even the slightest note of irony) "Two Weeks Notice"? Is this a war that lone soldiers spread across the continent can successfully fight?

In the end I've decided that maybe starting a Facebook group called "Um, the word you just said isn't a word, but we'll pretend that it is" is all I can do for now.

Problem is, I don't know if that would make people uncomfortablistic.

Halloween is Stupid, and Related Thoughts

Halloween is dumb. I mean, I live in California. As if the girls really need a formally-sanctioned holiday as a reason to dress sluttily? (new word, you heard it here first)

I have never once in my life caved to this trend. Looking back, I can tell you that on my years of Halloweenieness I have paraded as a variety of things, each year slightly more repulsive than the last. This may go back to my childhood in unique Halloween costumes, such as the famed year of Marie Antoinette in junior high. As an adult, I have made delightful costume choices (when/if I chose to dress up):
-a gaudy 80s girl
-an ugly gypsy
-a two-headed (I can't speak for my friend, but I certainly pulled my share of ugly) alien in platform sneakers and a green face mask talking on a rutabaga "telephone" with my hair in curlers
-a white trash wife with mullet, etc.

And this year I believe may have been my crowning achievement in the creativity category- my friend and I went as Jose Cuervo and Jack Daniels.

Now, I know what you're thinking- you are thinking that these costume choices have probably negatively affected my game on these nights. The irony is that I want them to. I really do want to stand in a corner and watch guys hit on the slutty zombie nurse and feel self-righteous and justified.

But the craziest thing happens. The uglier I am, the more attention I am showered with. It's incredible but true.

I first noticed this a few years back, when a friend and I went as a white trash couple. She completed her look with a black eye, an appearance of stubble, and so on. And I did obnoxious bright makeup, horrendous fake tattoos (rose, heart-and-dagger, anyone?), and a two-tone mullet. We went out expecting to just have a fun night of dancing together. We completed our looks with black tooth wax, just to make sure we took it to the hilt.

It was as if a spell was cast upon me. For the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I was being hit on left and right. I couldn't understand it. A guy I'd noticed before but who never gave me the time of day was giving me the time of day-- when I was dressed LIKE THIS? Incredible. My friend experienced the same. She looked like a busted *guy* and she was getting love. Eventually I had to ask a male friend what the hell was going on. And he simply explained that "no girls who were actually ugly would ever dare to pull this off, so it's a safe bet." Fascinating!

Well this year I thought we'd be safe. I had wanted to go as Octomom, but a trial run (after a day of wine tasting -- I don't do that stuff unprovoked) demonstrated that if I braid my hair and put gobs of lip gloss and huge sunglasses on, I have an uncanny resemblance to her. So nix that.

Due to my recent unbreakup I made myself look as unattractive as possible by going male, mustachio'd, and toothless. I just wanted time with my girls being silly and entertaining myself with mustache changes on the hour ("always bring a spare!" I'd announce, going from a handlebar mustache to something shorter and spiffier, for example). The outfit took some commitment, as fake facial hair gets really hot and I began to react to the tape that held it on. (insert joke about Middle Eastern girls and mustaches)

It began quite successfully. On Friday night we went into a party where our own friends didn't recognize us and thought we were just two dudes who wandered into their party. Then I was intercepted by a recently-turned-21-year-old Beetlejuice who badgered me to see my ID, not believing my age (which granted, I loved). Once we reached agreement that I was just genetically lucky, he insisted that I was the hottest 31 year old he'd ever seen, "even with that thing on" (referring to my poncho, I suppose). He kindly (and persistently) offered to take me out for my birthday and "buy me some lingerie". Much as I could have used a rebound from the Great Dumping of 2009, we parted ways amicably and I wish him luck dating those born after 1980.

On Saturday night we hit a second party. And lo and behold, before I knew it, Jack Daniels and I were again chatting it up with men at a house party where we knew almost no one. I know, I know, at this point you're wondering if we just attract guys with bad taste, but that's another post for another day. These guys seemed nice, friendly, and were cute. Thus we spent lots of quality time with the likes of Black Jesus (a guy who came as black Jesus, but when you called him "Black Jesus" he called you racist, much to his merriment), Lady Gaga, and some guy in body paint and a loincloth whose costume we never quite figured out, but who pinned my friend against the wall in the most terrifying 20-second wall/lap dance I've ever seen.

I continue to strive to find ways to defy Halloween. Given the failure of the aforementioned heinous costumes, we have decided that next year we are going to take the slutty Halloween cliche to a new level...and go pregnant. Not *really* pregnant, but the kind of pregnant that involves costume padding and the ability to go forth and drink your weight in whatever's being served. In other words, the fun kind of pregnant.

Slutty pregnant french maid, anyone?

Microsoft Love.0

Just when I thought I'd seen it all, last week shot me a curveball. So here it is: I was dumped by a guy... who I wasn't dating.

I know, not quite what I expected either. Long story short, as soon as this guy and I were matched online, he gave me the full court press. His initial email was one line, which of course did nothing for this literary girl. But then I decided, hey, not everyone is a big writer, and maybe he'll be interesting on the phone. Judge not, etc etc. (we all know where this has gotten me before.)

So we emailed, then he added me on facebook, which I thought was weird (and did against my own good judgment, a mistake I won't be repeating).

Then he started with the calling/texting. I should mention here that somewhere in there he figured out my last name (which is how he added me on FB) which I found eerie but figured if you google "awesome persian girl san diego" I must come up.

Now, at the time this all felt very sweet. He wished me well with my sister's wedding, asked how it was after, and called when he said he would. He had a great phone voice. He had interesting things to say, and was interested in what *I* had to say. I tried to suppress the "too good to be true" feeling (also known as my "gut instinct").

We started talking on the phone and had things to talk about for hours. We had grown up more similarly than I could imagine, and we had relatively serious talks about growing up bicultural. Not the usual "get to know you" fare, but I was up for it.

Anyhow, this went on for about three weeks I'd guess. Because I was so busy with the wedding meeting up hadn't been set up yet. So one night we had one of our long conversations and then, for a few days- radio silence. And then I got the Dear John letter. It said that he had decided to see someone he met before me "exclusively" and that he thought I seemed like a really fun girl and hoped we could stay friends.

He obviously misread the dating cliche handbook. "Just friends" is for people who KNOW each other.

I want to say this is weird, but it's just another day in the life, people. The funniest part is that I was telling the story to a friend and said "I just got dumped by a guy I wasn't dating... for the second time..."

I know you want to hear about the first time.

So the first time was during law school. I had a friend in class and it evolved into dating. I don't really remember the details, the random details I do remember involve a sloppy law school night out, him using the word "esoteric" on his birthday gift to me (a book! the first guy who got it!!!) and me having to look it up, and him writing me an absurdly inappropriate (and completely uncharacteristic) email way after we broke up... that I unwittingly opened while sitting at the family computer with my sister and brother. Good times all around.

Anyhow, so this guy and I had dated but it just wasn't going anywhere. He was getting attention from a younger girl at school and came to me and said "My stock is going up!" and I said "Cool! I"m selling."

Apparently he didn't realize I was serious. I got over him via flirtations with an old friend and then later a hot LA musician. So I was happily moving forward when (isn't that always how it is) I heard from Mr X again when he asked me to dinner. Interesting move on his part; I was intrigued so I said yes. I mean, after all, we were now "just friends" (cliche is appropriate here, as we had actually, um, met in person). We went to a sleazy local Chinese restaurant and he ate while I drank tea and waited to hear what was going on.

Him (slurping soup): "I don't know how to (SLURP) say this (SLURP). I think you're great but (SHIT-EATING-GRIN)... I think we should see other people."

Me: (SILENCE)

Him: I feel REALLY bad about this! I mean, really bad. Look at you, you look so upset...

Me: (LAUGHING) Um. No, that's not it. I, um.... were we still dating?

CLOSE SCENE

I really like to think that some sort of phoenix might emerge from the ashes of these little episodes in my life. And I came up with it today.

I'm going to invent Microsoft Love-point-O.

When we send an email, you get a warning if what you're sending has no subject line, or if you've misspelled something. I think we need the emotional equivalent.

"Are you sure you want to send this message? It grossly misinterprets the relationship you have with this person. YES/NO"

"Are you sure you want to send this message? It is generally not socially appropriate to dump someone you aren't dating. YES/NO"


Bill Gates, you know what to Google if you want to find me.

I Know This Much Is True

"A wise woman knows that she knows nothing at all."

1. I know that people come out of the woodwork to ask for favors. I also know the longer it's been since you've heard from them, the bigger the favor.

2. I know that I will never not shudder at the Seinfeld theme song.

3. I know that when people show you their true colors, you best believe them.

4. I know that coffee fixes everything.

5. I know that if we spent half the time with other people that we spend on the internet, we'd be a lot happier.

6. I know that nothing feels better than the feeling of takeoff.

7. I know that when I'm singing in my car I feel invisible.

8. I know that I'm a snob for laughing when someone else said they ate "edanami"

9. I know that even though I consider myself too cool for proverbs, "It's always darkest before the dawn" gives me chills because it's so, so right.

10. I know that I would give up chocolate for peanut butter any day of the week, so take that stereotypes about women!

11. I know that "Don't take this personally, but..." is the #1 worst way to start a sentence.

12. I know that when I call Customer Service and they say "Sorry to keep you waiting", they're not really sorry.

13. I know that 13 is and always will be my lucky number.

Blogging in my Sleep/My Bucket List Begins

At this point I kinda wonder if I blog in my sleep. Because when I check in I realize just how long it's been. I constantly have notes/reminders to myself to write about this or that, but I guess I'm working on intention at this point. The past month has been a whirlwind. The sicko post was rapidly followed by my sister's two (!) weddings, and then right after that one of my bestest friends had a baby.

Both of those events were pretty tremendous and powerful little notches in my little life. It's those sorts of things that make you think "am I growing UP?", but I am able to temper these thoughts with large doses of Khloe and Kourtney Take Miami and Stacey Q road trip songfests. So worry not.

But given that I don't appear to be settling down or having kids any time soon, I thought it was high time to focus on things I can do just for the hell of it until I am saddled with further obligation.

So recently I started working on my Bucket List. I can't remember if I started that before, but in any case 2.0 is now available.

1. learn to sail (which I did, or at least on a basic level, with a few weekend lessons. I got pretty good!)

2. go to Senegal. no idea why, but this has been on my to-do list forever. i'd love to see all of Africa, but if I had to pick one place to start, this is it.

3. learn italian. look, i know it makes sense to get better at speaking Spanish first (like, um, going beyond the present tense, although i work around my conjugation handicap well enough that no one seems to notice) but italian is so romantic and beautiful. find me one other language that sounds so heart-stoppingly gorgeous when people are FIGHTING. i need to be able to respond to Marco when he finds me in the piazza and wants to hit on me, you know?!

4. record something. i'm not sure what. this was on my list and Gene and I did a recording when he had extra studio time that was a total joke and quite entertaining at the time. but i'd love to genuinely record something someday. what? i don't know. and do i promise you it's not going to be a cover of madonna? no. but it might not be, either.

5. go drink wine in a vineyard in europe. i'm hoping to do that this summer. i want to sit around and drink wine from the grapes i'm looking at. now that i can stomach (ok, barely) more than one glass of wine at a time, it's game on

6. be able to do a handstand without leaning on a wall and stay there for more than a second. and no, i don't mean an underwater handstand.

7. have a 6 pack. i mean abs, not beer (although that's fine too). at some point in my life i'd like to say "when i was doing YYY i had a crazy 6 pack. here! let me show you the pictures". it would also be useful to have it for photos when i go on a senior citizens dating site in 2050. i would really prefer if i did not have to do work and/or deprive myself of the goodies in life in order to get it. this may be missing from future versions of my List for that exact reason.

I'm working on more. I need easier things on my list- most of mine are pretty time-intensive. Ooh or maybe I need a to-do list for my bucket list. Or maybe my bucket list should include "reduce dependency on making lists".

Nah.

Sicky McSickerson

No, I don't have swine flu, but thanks for asking (everyone does).
I've been sick for a few days, which has been a lovely haze of steamy hot tea, pseudophedrine (Sudafed, I love you! You make me feel like a superhero!), and randomly timed naps.

When I'm sick I think I live life like most people do; meaning, I live a life completely different from my own daily existence. I allow myself some leeway.

Examples:
On a regular day I'm up by 6, usually on my way to the gym. When I'm sick, I roll out of bed whenever feels right, usually closer to 10:30.

On a regular day I answer all work emails as they come in. When I'm sick, I answer what I have the energy for.

On a regular day, I watch zero tv. Zero. When I'm sick, tv is my nanny. I save up all year to watch Oprah when I'm sick. And this week was really a jackpot- I had the double-whammy of the "tell-all" Whitney Houston interview (everyone loves a comeback story) and yesterday the Mackenzie Phillips' "consensual incest with my father" drama. I was too tired and worn down to get up and change the channel (and by "get up" I mean "lift my arm and press a button"); but I wasn't too tired to raise eyebrows, ping-ponging back and forth on whether I thought Oprah was being too judgmental. (I mean, she introduced her guest, then made her tell the room what she'd done, like a mean, dispassionate teacher. I expect more from you, Oprah!)

On a regular day, I work out. When I'm sick, I email my friends and tell them I feel crappy and wait for a reasonable number of responses to come in excusing me from physical activity. Yes, I really do wait for validation from people before releasing myself from my workout duties.

On a regular day, I nag about needing to work out. When I'm sick I daydream about major physical feats I will accomplish when I get better- perhaps another half marathon or, just not eating crap. I make very cute, very forgettable promises to myself.

On a regular day, I pick up the phone. When I'm sick, I'm so knocked out on my Nyquil-Sudafed binges that I don't hear the phone next to my ear ring. It's like being a junkie for two days!

On a regular day, I read piles of contracts, emails, marketing plans. When I'm sick, I read the Carrie Fisher biography Wishful Drinking. And I laugh, because her jokes are funnier when I know I waited the extra 5 minutes in line to get the Sudafed "With the real stuff" in it!

On a regular day, I worry about my budget. When I'm sick, I order myself a rush copy of Kathy Griffin's trashy biography, because "it's what I need in my time of illness".

On a regular day, I check Facebook pretty constantly. When I'm sick I realize that's a really dumb way to spend my time on earth.

I wish I had more to say, but you see, I've been busy.

Every Woman Should Have Answers.

I was cleaning out my inbox today (things you do when jury duty frees you up!) and found this poem a friend had forwarded me by the great Maya Angelou. I wanted to check myself against her little list.

What Every Woman Should Have and Know
By Maya Angelou
With Unsolicited Commentary by Moi

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
enough money within her control to move out (yeah, not so much)
and rent a place of her own (ok, I'm 1 for 2- place of my own! hoorah!)
even if she never wants to or needs to…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ….
something perfect to wear
if the employer or date of her dreams
wants to see her in an hour… (my closet is full, so i'd like to think i've got some of this. the problem is not the date outfit, people!!)

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
a youth she’s content to leave behind…. (Zimas in the park? yeah, i'm ok with moving on)

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ….
a past juicy enough
that she’s looking forward to retelling it in her old age…. (i have a few good stories in the ole artillery. am trying to add to the collection)

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …..
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, (a drill? seriously? i can't staple without major injury)
and a black lace bra… (agreed. and check)

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ….
one friend who always makes her laugh… (got a few of those)
and one who lets her cry…(a few of those too. i even have some who make me cry! kidding)

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ….
a good piece of furniture (the comfy couches!)
not previously owned by anyone else in her family…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ….
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, (thanks mom!)
and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored… (honored? hm. how about "full"?)

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ….
a feeling of control over her destiny… (yeah, not so much)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
how to fall in love without losing herself.. (how to what???)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

HOW TO QUIT A JOB, (done)

BREAK UP WITH A LOVER, (done)

AND CONFRONT A FRIEND WITHOUT RUINING THE FRIENDSHIP… (done)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
when to try harder… (set the bar low, perform higher. and try harder only when someone else points it out ;)

and WHEN TO WALK AWAY… (i know a variation on this: i know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
that she can’t change the length of her calves, (WHAT?! news to me)
the width of her hips, (WHAT????)
or the nature of her parents.. (i think i realized this maybe a year ago. took me long enough!)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
that her childhood may not have been perfect… (but my bangs were!)
but it’s over… (except when i throw tantrums)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
what she would and wouldn’t do for love or more… (i will do anything for love, but i won't do that)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
how to live alone… (i get to play my music as loud as i want. what's to learn?)
even if she doesn’t like it…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
whom she can trust, whom she can’t, (i'd love to tell you whom i can trust and whom i can't, but i'm just so excited about the use of "whom" here!)
and why she shouldn’t take it personally… (um hello, i'm a girl. free space!)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
where to go…
be it to her best friend’s kitchen table…
or a charming inn in the woods…
when her soul needs soothing… (does the refrigerator count?)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
what she can and can’t accomplish in a day… (lately: not accomplishing much beyond checking my facebook account)
a month… (apparently more than one blog post)
and a year… (will let you know)

The Little Things.

Sometimes you connect with a classic, sometimes you don't.
I am proud to announce that I've finally finished LITTLE WOMEN, something I never thought would happen. I genuinely worried that the year would close and I wouldn't know if Laurie won Jo over, or if Beth got better, or if they ever stopped calling their mom Marmee.


I mean, this book is a monster. Everyone said it was soooo good, so I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt. I realize now that the many people who told me it was "soooo good" read it when they were 14 or under, i.e. had nothing better to do with their time. "Make a lanyard or... Little Women?"
So yeah, this is a long book, and I"m sensitive to that. Only certain books should get to be long. Was she paid by the word like Dickens? I'll have to look that up. Anyhow, I kept joking that Little Women needed a Little Editor.

The fact that I got to check this off my reading list makes me proud enough to post about it.
It's always interesting to read a classic and see what you can still relate to and what you can't. At first, this was a hard sell for me. Look, I love my sister too, but the family March was a bit MUCH. I suppose that's the charm of the book- a completely functional family, free of discord, a domestic mutual admiration society. Back when the book came out it made it a page-turner. But in 2009 I found it hard to read because I was rolling my eyes so much. I know that's sad, trust me.


After I put the book down, I thought maybe I should rewrite this book more realistically, say, using my own family.



(Scene Opens: Family is sitting by fireplace which is not on because dad thinks it's a waste)


Sister: Lilly dearest, would you give me a hand with this knitting?


Lilly: I already told you where you can put that knitting.

Sister: Well then, will you tell me a story, kind sister?

Lilly: Sure, I'll tell you a story. It's about someone annoying the $#!? out of another person who is trying to read her book.


Sister: Well, shall we go pick flowers in the field and sketch by the river bank?

Lilly: Um, no.

Sister: Why don't we cozy around the fireplace and sing songs!

Brother: Why that sounds truly delightful! I do wish to hear your sweet voices sisters. If only I might hear them every moment of every day in song. Perhaps for now we can sing songs about the castle in the sky? Gather 'round the piano.


Lilly: Whatever are you smoking, dear siblings?

Mother: DINNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!

Sister: Marmee has prepared a 5 course feast for us! What joy!

Dad: I don't want to eat. I had a hot dog. Susie, you want a hot dog?

Sister: I have been a vegetarian for 16 years dad, no thanks.



I spent much of my reading being amazed at the lifestyle. I mean, the BIGGEST thing they had to do on a given day was go in search of lavender ribbon or set a table -- oh wait, they had a servant to do that. Makes you think we might have the big gyp living in the modern day. At one point, little sister Amy goes to live abroad. And it's for THREE years. She just galavants around with wealthy relatives. I mean, where can a girl sign up for that? Because sign.me.up.


I'm happy to report that some social factors stayed consistent through time. People gossip. Parents worry about their kids. Girls play hard to get but the secretly kiss when their chaperones aren't looking. Ok, and I laughed at the chapter about neglecting one's husband after having kids.


That said, the last 150 pages of the book picked up the pace and helped me understand why this is a classic. I found myself completely enraptured in the blossoming love of Jo and Fritz. I don't remember the last time I found literary romances the slight bit engrossing, but all of those in this book ultimately felt real and natural (possibly because they developed in real-time, as it took me months to read...)
Through huge life changes the family sticks together and love is found in the most unlikely of places. The final couplings aren't who you'd think they'd be, but they work. And Jo is an incredibly modern character; one that readers a zillion years later can still relate to (read: me) I will confess that I openly wondered, ever a victim of the TV generation, if she was the basis for Jo on the Facts of Life, but that's neither here nor there.


What can I say? It left a good taste in my mouth. Maybe saccharine isn't always a bad thing.

Kinda Like a Blind Conga Line

Somehow it has entirely escaped me, the most obvious rule of single living. That is: she who takes dating advice from her single girlfriends is exemplifying "blind leading the blind". Lately I'm realizing that I need to rustle up the advice I take from my MARRIED girlfriends. Or at least those who have boyfriends or, in many cases, the 3+ date sequence. My terminal daters, while lovely human beings, may *not* be optimal for doling out advice. I mean, you ask Paula Deen for her recipes, not Kate Bosworth, right?

Married friends feel they become irrelevant after they nuptualize-themselves away from Saturday nights spent getting all dressed up for nothing. They listen to our dating stories and feel like they don't have a full grasp of what we're going through (we=single people, because yes, I speak for them ALL). But you do remember. We just forget to ask you!

We usually just ask each other. Part of it is that sometimes it feels like if you talk with a single friend, you both learn from it. It's one of those rare conversations where it's about you but the other person feels like they get something out of it, more than just waiting for their turn to talk. Everyone can learn!

But problems exist with the current state of affairs. One such problem that needs to be highlighted (and I may even be guilty of?) is the Membership Obstacle. Which is: you kinda need a quorum in order for being single to still be cool. If everyone is coupled off except you, then you become the creepy aunt-uncle. You become the third (or thirteenth) wheel. So while you want your friends to be happy, you don't want them to be TOO happy, ie. married/dating/disappeared. Or you want *just enough* of them to be happily paired off that you still have a pool of people to choose from when making your plans for this weekend. So while we all do our best to avoid being selfish, the undercurrent of mixed motives is there.

Secondly, when the dating banter begins, we quickly forget that our single friend has his/her own set of criteria. It's probably part of why he or she is still single- they have the laundry list and hasn't found the guy who fits it all. And when she gives you advice, she is probably superimposing HER lengthy list on YOUR lengthy list. So now instead of me looking for just a guy who is "Teva-averse", I need to look for a guy who is "Teva-averse" (for me) AS WELL AS "no prominent forehead veins". Veins might be fine for me but my friend will have a bias upon finding out my beloved sports them. Just like if she brings her Mr. Perfect in front of me and he's rocking socks with Tevas, I'm going to give her advice based on the fact that I'm a mandal (man-sandal)-hater, even though she didn't ask. We operate from the mindset we're in.

Likewise, we might approve of funky behaviors just because we do them too and by ratifying another person doing it, we are therefore more normal than ever. I'd insert an example here, but it would be too self-incriminating.

Those are just a few of the problem points with our current single-conferencing behavior. I'm sure there are many more I'm not even aware of because I'm so freakin entrenched in them.

When you take a step back, you suddenly realize that singles advising each other is a truly weird phenomenon. In no other world would a rookie ask another rookie. It's the same reason athletes are coached by guys with championship rings and not some beer-bellied guy in his armchair with Cheetos breath. Everyone has an opinion, sure, but you gotta be smart about whose you take.

I think this really brings it back to my new Sex and the City Theorem. If the girls didn't brunch and dissect things every single weekend, if they didn't call each other after every hookup, date, or night out, would things have been different? Would Miranda give a guy the time of day if Carrie wasn't there to roll her eyes to? Would they possibly have dated more if they spent a LITTLE less time having a lunch of estrogen with a side salad?

Guys always say that women are hard to approach in groups at the bar. And now I'm wondering if this is part of it. Maybe by talking amongst ourselves we end up focusing on the wrong things. And more to the point, maybe we make ourselves "exponentially single" by hanging out in flocks.

I'm still working out my thoughts on this (and awaiting Jon's), but I have to admit: Lately, when I need some guy advice or just a dating pep talk, I find myself dialing the houses with kids running around in the background a little more often. And if the mom isn't home, the kid probably knows more than me anyhow, so let's chat.

Julie, Julia, and Lilly.

Well I saw the movie I've been waiting for. There was a summer of absolutely nothing interesting in theaters and then suddenly they're coming at me all at once- Julie & Julia, Time Traveler's Wife, 500 Days of Summer, The Cove. So much to see that it makes a girl consider getting a part-time job at a movie theater.

Before I go any further I have to confess that I'm listening to The [London] Royal Symphony Orchestra play the best of George Michael. I don't confess so much to get this off my chest as I do to let people know that such a masterpiece exists. Ha.

So something about seeing this movie tonight inspired creativity in me that just hasn't been there in too long. I rushed first to the grocery store (where, granted, I bought a box of mac and cheese that I've just polished off) and then home to my computer. OH, wait, duh. She's a blogger. So it's not just creativity but also a reminder that I have a barely-watered blog that is withering away out here. So for all four readers, howdy!


What is it about this movie that is so freaking feel-good? I honestly could have done without the Julie half of it. She was irritating and self-centered and the redeeming side wasn't really there for me. If it had been played by anyone but Amy Adams, I think my annoyance would hae peaked, but they picked someone likeable, which was key. But Meryl Streep, man, she's something else. It goes beyond good acting. Susie leaned over and asked me if she ever makes bad, unwatchable movies. And before I could bring up Mamma Mia (which I personally liked but thought Susie would find unwatchable) she said "I even watched her sing Abba and I liked her". So the reasonable conclusion is that she's an acting goddess.


I was trying to think of what makes for a good movie today. Certainly good acting counts, but in general I think the rule is much like a good book- if you can make someone care about something they never normally would, you have been successful in making a good film. I had never thought twice about Julia Child or the art of French cooking in particular, but now I'm fascinated (as is the rest of the country).


I wondered if there was a similar task I could undertake- to do such-and-such within a year and write about it, but I really don't know what that would be. I mean, I basically already do what interests me and avoid what doesn't. Right now I'm on a 60 day nonstop workout challenge, but who wants to hear about that? (not me) I need some new endeavor unlike anything else I've ever done in my life. Maybe I should just aim to try 100 recipes in the next year. That would be something, but I'd just wanna eat it, not write about it. BOOORING. (also, i have no problem with cooking, it's the grocery portion that bugs, or specifically, the lugging it upstairs). Anyhow, it's cool that she had a great idea and did well with it. It all wraps up nicely in the film for both ladies, and life so rarely does. The perfect matinee fare.


In other news, during my grocery trip today I officially avoided someone. When did San Diego become so small that I have to duck for cover? The only other time I've done that was when a guy I'd been emailing with on Match was at the grocery store (apparently grocery stores are not for me). I was pretty sure it was him and GO FIGURE (this stuff only happens to me) that I had just gotten out of my sweatiest-ever Bikram session. I went to the grocery store straight after (which I never do), one in a part of town I rarely shop in, and to the most ghetto one possible. And there I look up and have this moment of recognition with someone I absolutely do NOT want to be recognized by. I mean, seriously, what freakin dating gods have I so pissed off that only after 90 minutes in a room of 105 degrees will they let me run into a cute boy? And especially one I almost have a chance with! (the guy and i went on our date as scheduled, said nothing about it, and were mutual disinterested. I live with the fiction that I look so good when I'm dressed up that I can have zero resemblance to post-gymus-lillyus)


As for tonight's game of Hide and Seek, I have no particular reason to avoid this person but he's given off a bit of an Ahole vibe and I didn't feel like being super friendly when I was in happy Julia Child land. He just moved to town and I haven't technically seen him in some 14 years but I've heard. I was so frozen with indecision about whether to walk forward and say hi/reintroduce myself or to turn that if he is at ALL observant I was probably peeped out. I was perched like a greeter at the entrance. But who knows. I figure that your parents can make you be nice to people when you're a kid, but when you're 31 and there's a whole world out there, you don't have to.


Well, the mac n cheese coma (ok, and 5 of those freaking delicious Paul Newman healthy oreos. someone please take them OUT of my house) is fading. Time to put in my workout for the day... until I think of a better road to fame and fortune.

And in a final note of complete humiliation, I just posted this to my company's website. OOOOPS.

21 Questions but not really.

Today I was going through my inbox and I found a questionnaire a friend had sent me, well, many years ago. Apparently it was a while ago because the email said something about being for new years resolutions 2007. I think the original source was Yahoo Finance, but the point is the article talked about getting a clear vision of where you are and where you want to go. So since I have a million things to do, of course I thought "wow, i better hurry up and take this before i accidentally start being productive!"


What makes you happy at work?
freedom, creativity, flexibility. writing or seeing a written, physical, finished product. working with cool people. being inspired, feeding off other people's energy. an entrepreneurial, growing environment.


What makes you happy at home?
this one is simple. it might be complicated if i had a big family, then i'd get all into dynamics, but for me it's this formula: good music and order. if the house is clean, i'm pretty happy. it's a weird, but very true correlation. if stuff is piled all over the place it means life has been a bit too hectic for me. i meditate while i put things away. so sue me. the reason i know this answer is true is i have a Dave Brubeck album on the stereo and i'm happy as a clam.


What makes you happy with your friends and family?
laughter. feeling trusted. being someone they can lean on, especially if i can help them resolve something (as opposed to being just a listening ear). hugs.

What makes you happy when you're by yourself?
music (bonus points if it's out of the tape trunk in my room), dancing with myself, reading a book i don't want to put down, taking a bubble bath, thinking about books i want to read in the future. daydreaming about traveling.


What do you love to do?
i love to drink hot drinks. yes, i'm putting that first. i can become a different person when a cup of tea is put in front of me, and i don't know why. i love to sing. i love love LOVE to sing actually. i don't do it in front of a lot of people, but there you have it. i love to dance. i love to read books and underline them. i love to sit in the sun but only for short spurts of time. i love to do yoga, i love to do things that make me feel strong. i love to listen to people and give them advice. i have no idea why this is. people always say "thanks" after you listen to them, but i feel like i learn something new every time, and it's more than a little flattering to think someone wants your advice. i love to take bubble baths. didn't we cover this?

What would you do with your life today if you weren't afraid of failure?
i'd sing. or i'd have a kid. or i'd take off for a year and just go see what the world had in store for me.

What's not working in your life?
my math skillz. my overloadedness. i feel like i'm supposed to say "my love life" but actually i don't feel like it's malfunctioning, it's just not shining right now. no big deal. oh - you know what's not working in my life? my favorite sweatpants. the string got lost in the waistband. does that count?

What are you currently doing that prevents you from experiencing joy?
WORRYING!!!

What's working in your life?
so many things. my friends, my family, my work ethic, my optimism, my health. ok, i get it, i have it good!


Who's not working in your life?
i'm not gonna name names but people who don't get me. people who don't hear what i'm saying. i hate repeating myself -- it brings out the worst in me, i'm not a patient person i guess. there are some people in my life (incidentally, and not through invitation!) who don't really have my best interests or happiness at heart but i keep them on the fringe. i don't have anyone really toxic, thankfully.


Who in your life is subtracting value from and adding misery to it?
no one! phew!!! i do a purge every few years, so i'm clear on this one.

Can you fix any of these relationships, or should you let them go from your life?
not applicable. but i'm a fan of letting go lately.

What relationships are working in your life?
all of them. i worked really hard to get here, come to think of it.

If we were getting together one year from today, what would have to happen for you to be able to tell me that you now have more joy in your life?
i'd have to be in a more secure place, so i felt like i was fully reaping everything i try to sow, i guess. honestly, i think i'd be pretty joyful if things stayed status quo.


What's the single most important thing you've learned about yourself as a result of answering these questions?
i'm one lucky son of a gun.

I Just Called To Say I Blog You.

I owed the world a blog said one of my three readers (Hi Az!) Life hasn't been very interesting of late. I mean, when I thought about what to blog, the first thing that came to mind was to talk about the complete lack of manners around me. Yesterday I went to Bikram (hot) yoga and the woman next to me was hacking. Which is bad enough, but she didn't cover her mouth. Then, while I"m lying there in my shavasana, relaxing, I see her bottle of benadryl in front of me! I mean seriously, if you're that sick, um... STAY HOME!

Today I woke up feeling like crud so i didn't work out (which was disappointing because I have been a workout superstar. So imagine this being written by a toned, highly worked-out self. Thanks.) Anyhow, i came to the cafe to write a paper and catch up on work and who do I sit next to? A woman apparently raised in the same barn as yesterday's woman. She was hacking, hacking and grading papers or something. She always comes here and grades papers, but I overheard her telling someone "everyone thinks I"m a teacher, but i'm not". I can't imagine what she's doing with a red pen and all those papers. From her etiquette, she might be crossing out Emily Post quotes with glee?

Here's a snapshot of me right now:

Book I'm reading: The Joy Luck Club. I have been reading an insane amount this year. I've already read 20 books in 2009, which isn't bad if you consider that I"m working full time and getting edumacated as well? It's a very obvious escapist tactic, the same one I used as a child. Today I'm not sure if I felt sick or if I just felt like staying in bed and reading more, to be honest. But I figure when people have crack habits and are kleptos or whatnot, my little vice ain't so bad.

As for the book itself -how I got through the past 20 years without reading this book is a mystery to everyone. I feel like it just came out. My mom always recommends great books to me and she had, but I'm very much a "judge a book by its cover" person, and this one looked very sad to me. I know, I'm a weirdo, but as it turns out, I was right. It's a heavy book. Anyhow, I think I understand it as an adult way more than I would have when it first came out. As much of an advanced reader as I may have been at age 12, I think I have a different appreciation for the themes of bridging cultures and being the bicultural child of immigrants. I have spent more than one page being grateful that my mom doesn't have a super heavy accent and that she didn't push me to compete as a kid. So that's good, you know, when a book makes you appreciate something in your life. Yay for takeaways.

Music: I have been listening to all new stuff. There has been the occasional digression from the highbrow- I'm not going to lie to you and say the new Britney "Circus" album isn't fantastic from start to end. I'm not going to tell you I don't sing along to it at the top of my lungs. I'm not going to tell you I don't hear the title track in my head during yoga or that I don't wish I'd written half of those songs. I've also been giving the new Prince and Pet Shop Boys a good listen, and some new stuff. A friend gave me the Calvin Harris album "I Created Disco" and I'm loving that. I always wish there was more music from the 80s- sometimes I feel like I know it all- and then something like this comes along and satisfies my drought.

Life: Everyone is getting married and having babies (second, third, or fourth-round issues). See previous 100 posts. Feeling the need to do something BIG so that when people ask me what I'm up to I have something interesting to contribute. "Oh, me? Nothing much. Just, you know, learning Swahili and adopting blind orphans from Mexico. (shrug) The usual."

The other night I saw a horrible reflection of myself. I was watching The Millionaire Matchmaker and this sweet girl went on a date with a millionaire and when he asked her what she does for fun, she said she reads. I was stunned. I mean, could you BE less dynamic? Then I had an "oh shit" moment. In one second of reality television I was able to size up my entire existence into that phrase: "oh shit".

A guy I went to high school with is on a reality show now. It just makes me realize how I could be doing bigger/better/more, making more of a splash. just not sure what it should be. well, i guess if i get swine flu from the yoga chick then i'll make my splash, won't i?

Books, music, life. I think I covered it for now :)