Why do I bother going out?

Hey world! 

Okay, despite being on fast, I still go out with my friends and meet people, etc., etc.  I enjoy it for themost part -- I like to see the different ways people smile or laugh, the way they fidget with their clothes or napkins, and usually I think of ways to write down their mannerisms, or incorporate them into a story of some kind.  Plus people are funny!

But then, every now and again, some gentleman will catch my eye and I decide he might be fine to speak to.  All downhill from there.  I met a nice young man yesterday, with light brown wavy hair and a sharp fuzz of light stubble on his chin. He was wearing a pinstripe jacket and drinking Bud Light.

Yes, Bud Light.  I probably should have stopped right there.  He was sitting in front of an array of quality beers on tap and opted for a Bud Light in a bottle.

Continuing, I think he's relatively intelligent, likes dogs, lives nearby, all good things.  Then I find out he just got out of the Navy.  That's not a dealbreaker. My dad was an Army man, it's not intrinsically a bad thing, just a bit different than most people that live around the Berkeley area. 

Then somehow the conversation steers toward the fact that someone of mixed heritage, such as being part Hispanic, could be paid more and given more opportunity for advancement in the Navy. 

Oooh, danger, Will Robinson! 

At first I refused to even go down that road.  But after much cajoling, I admitted the idea made since to me. I understood it because from the multi-lingual perspective, would it not behoove the military to have someone that can communicate in foreign countries?  Pinstripes did not have such a liberal perspective.  I guess gunfire is the universal language.  This convo continues into a discussion of immigration and affirmative action, upon which we did not see eye to eye (why he would even bring this up to a non-white person such as myself will never be clear to me...for an affirmation of his feelings, maybe?).  It was like talking to a wall, which was, I'm sure, what it felt like from his perspective as well.

The interaction begs the question: why do I bother going out?  I walk into Berkeley of all places and meet the one backward thinking person there.  I'm cursed, I swear!  Check the "currently reading" image.

Word of the Day

An old word that's gotten one helluva revival lately: Vuvuzela.

People won't shut up about these things...and the people blowing them at the World Cup won't shut up either.  I'm pretty used to the sound, as those horns are at every soccer game from Seattle to Seoul, but the sheer volume and number of these things, since they originated in Africa, at this Copa Mundial is apparently dizzying.  Just say it.  Vuvuzela.  It's almost as fun as onomatopoeia.

My sister just had a baby.  Via C-section.  Thank you, celibacy.

That's all for now!  Game on.

Soccer

Hello all!

I'm not sure if everyone knows this about me, but I am a soccer freak.  I have been playing since I was seven, and continue to play in rec leagues around the area and watch any game I can sink my teeth into.  It's one of the few things that makes me loose my all-to-cool composure, and I yell at the screen and get into the game.  I do not, however, take the aggression or attitude with me off the field.  If I lose a game, I barely know (keeping score is hard, even when the score's 1-0) let alone let it affect my mood.

That said, in your FACE England.  A tie is a win for us against you blokes.  I predicted that 1-1 draw.  Sorry Green, you really deserve a hug after that performance.  I feel bad for you.

OK, that's out of the way.  But soccer men!  Gosh I had forgotten what it was like to be around so many fit people all at once.  Up until I graduated from undergrad and hung up the sprinting spikes and collegiate cleats (alright, I still play in those cleats, they're so comfortable) the only men I ever saw half-naked were highly athletic.  Then I faced harsh reality around 23 and was thoroughly disappointed.  I guess I'm used to it now, and returning to the situation, with shirtless eye-candy all around me, I had a mental throwback.  Ah, to be young(er) again and capitalize on my situation!   At the time I was too busy with school and sports and generally not caring to date to pay any attention.

So, too, now I think.  I work all day and come home with a compulsion to cloister and write.  I get pulled out by my friends, or to go hiking or play soccer so I still see people, but my mind is turned inward so often I forget to notice what's going on around me (like playing soccer without knowing the score).  Plus work is constantly in service of 60 other people so my mind is set unnaturally "out, out, out" for 40+ hours a week and I just need some "in" time when I get home.

Does anyone else feel this way?  Like the world is turning without you paying close enough attention?

Love vs Lust

Okay, America.  You win.  I am going into what Hanne Blank (in her book Virgin: The Untouched History) would call the avoidant kind of virginity.  I'm fully not interested in having an opposite-sex relationship of any kind, involving sex or not.  No babies, no diseases, no drama.  Also, for my mental transformation to work, I am going to need some exclusive ME time.  This is intrinsically selfish, and I cannot pay attention to another person under these conditions.

You may ask: What, pray tell, forced this decision?

And the answer, though banal is: A man.

One of the nicest men on the planet, actually.  I looked at him, all brimming with hope, and I knew if this relationship continued, with my heart and head elsewhere, I would hurt him.  So I had to cut and run -- and I I officially put the kaibosh on further fraternization.  Hey, if I can't impose tough rules on MYSELF, how will I ever follow the directions of any relationship professional?


I'm actually not sure if I ever declared full stop on relationships before now.  I thought for a moment how awesome the drama would be if I kept stringing a few men along, but, then, life has enough drama without intentionally pouring it on.  What a day.  I'm a tired little recluse.

The Loved and the Lost

My friend A told me to post about this. The two pieces of information she got from me today over dinner was that I:

1) made a pact with a friend of mine to marry him if we were single at 45 and

2) had to dump a guy I had no idea I was going out with in the first place.

Yowsa!

The Loved: This is my friend L. We were roommates back when I first moved to California about 6 years ago and he was so shy at first he didn't talk to me for the first, like, four months or so. I always thought he was the cutest thing, with his curly dark-blonde hair and band t-shirts. We actually bonded over music, as I played drums in a punk band at the time, and one or two of his friends' bands ended up playing shows with us. As roommates we never crossed into the taboo kingdom of a romantic relationship, as that would be uncomfortable for everyone (though it somehow didn't stop me from making the mistake with other roommates. Maybe I always thought L was special that way). It was only once we moved in separate ways, on to graduate schools in different places, that I realized I missed him like crazy.



It takes a lot for me to consider a person a real friend, and L made the cut.

My co-worker actually recently got engaged to a friend of hers. They were in the same boat as L and me, living in different places and meeting up to go on a trips. They took a trip to Mexico for a week, realized there was a spark there, and came back engaged. It made me think, and I proposed the 15 year definite. L, to my surprise, was absolutely excited about it.

L's sensitive, soft spoken, introverted, and gives awesome hugs. That tug in my chest every time I visit him, or he me, and we have to part again is hard to ignore. Well, 15 years and he's all mine!



The Lost: This is a dude named T. He's a friend of a friend and lives in Oakland. I met him while hanging with a very good friend of mine, and he's easy to talk to, very attentive, picks me up from my house (this is huge) and we go do fun stuff round the East Bay. The problem is I'm not attracted to him. He's fun! I like to hang out with him, but he met me during this year-long break, and he's just too nice. What's to say? Defeatist of me, perhaps, as he's available, understanding, sweet, etc. etc. but does nothing for me. Why are there so many great men out there I just can't be into? Anyone else have the same issues?

My novel When Heaven Calls

Just a heads up, viewing public, my most-awesome book When Heaven Calls is available on www.amazon.com in print or for your Kindle, and you can review it on www.goodreads.com. Any review is good, so please drop a line.

Remember, you can get a Kindle app for your iPhone, iPod Touch or iPad from the App Store through iTunes.  Now all you tech heads can read my book anytime, anywhere.

Of course When Heaven Calls remains available directly through sakura publishing as well, and if you buy it there you get a discount.

Happy reading!  And if you're not reading my book, who cares, you're reading, right?  Support the written word!