On Turning Thirty-Two

Picnic Discussions.

While turning thirty-two (years old) this past weekend, I sat on multicolored picnic blankets with new Coloradan friends, listening to entertaining engagement stories being swapped between acquaintances, as partners interjected their own memorable details. At an age when such stories are commonplace, I felt grateful for (still) being an innocent bystander, with my own unwritten story having yet to unfold.  Enjoy!  

 [Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Fairy Tale Theatre

Real Life Translation.

As we search the world high and low for our perfect, solitary "soul mate" we can only hope that those fairy tale stories recited second hand - in movies and children's books, and by third cousins thrice removed - offer even a quarter of an ounce of truth (or guidance) on this frequently frustrating and despairing path.  And while (many of) us prematurely plan our wedding vows before the end of our first (or second) dates, the likelihood that those vows actually come true are as good as Cinderella reuniting with her glass slipper, only perhaps after several thousand rounds of story time rather than just one. Enjoy! 

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Our (Childhood) Memories

Kids Those Days.

When my parents had company over between (my) ages of zero and ten, I remember falling asleep to the vibration of my mom's voice behind her boney chest.  Screaming fights on weekends with my older sister over who got to read the back (or side) of the cereal box were determined by whichever one she expressed most interest in [insert semi-manipulative smiley face].  Twirling my toddler brother around until dizziness and then placing a (beer-like) bottle in his unstable hands, and then pressing record on the bulky family camcorder, passed hours of afternoon entertainment. And inhaling the scent of sawdust from the aftermath of my father’s recent woodworking activities from the deep, dark dungeon (aka our basement) was as familiar as the combined scents of bagels and newspaper on early Sunday mornings.  Enjoy!
 [Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Speaking Easy

(By Guest Blogger & Avid Commenter: Stormy521.)

A great deal of language and speech and vocabulary draws on what we read. Writers like Melville, James (the original tool smith), and Dickens (having eleven kids to support, he knew A LOT of words) educated the reader by sheer girth. But you read them with your ears as well as your eyes, because language was so elaborate in those days. Thus, you learned about language. Still, I just reread What Maisie Knew (1897). Although the story (of her parents' divorce) is told from the point of view of a six year old, you would swear Maisie was forty the way James wrote her. It was an exhausting read. Hemingway, on the other hand, knew how to slice a page in half, his work was so lean. Not exactly exhausting, but his language was magical, too. And if you have never read F. Scott Fitzgerald's greatest work...

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther … And one fine morning -"

Can't you hear the music?

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Quitting Therapy

Ready or Not...

...Here you come, and yet your therapist may have another idea.  And so it goes with long-loved shrinks who make you question whether they're only after your dime or, in fact, committed to resolving your unresolved history.  Unless, of course, you move across the country and the break-up is inevitable, and then in your last two sessions - as you both prepare for your goodbyes - you find her (or him) casually dabbing the corner of her (or his) glassy, semi-teary eye (the first ounce of "real" emotion you've seen in ten years - hooray!), and - after that - you spend way more time missing her (or him) than you ever expected.  Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Two Years Ago Today

Friday, April 23, 2010.

Two years ago today, my first blog entry attempted to share with anyone who would read (by which I mean You) the very words that tend to keep me up at night (long past my bedtime, which - lucky for me - has since become earlier and earlier), including news articles (like the NYT Modern Love column), (other people's) blog posts, an occasional (Shakespeare) sonnet, and even youtube's finest (scenes from) daytime and evening soaps (Dawson's Creek 4 Eva) because - like You - I am captivated by other people's stories and feelings and ideas, and must-never-stop participating and contributing (to the words that make the world go 'round), even if as a quiet (reading) observer. When I shared the news with my parents (Mom/Dad: I'm a blogger!) and proceeded to explain the content of my idea (-to share inspiration) my father thoughtfully commented that I can't have a blog without my own (hand-typed) content.  And so unfolded my consistently daily (two to seven sentences of) commentary On Life, in particular the kinds of things we do  and think about on a regular basis but don't know how to articulate, the thoughts and reactions we have in common (with each other) but don't always realize or acknowledge, and the beauty and ugliness of the world around us like Pain, Love, Excitement, and Adventure.  (On deck tomorrow are the Woes of Leaving Our Therapists.)  Thanks for Your readership for the last 731 days (incl leap day, of course); let's begin round three.  Enjoy! 

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On the Infinite

Endless Possibilities.

As children, we are told that the possibilities are infinite, and we can be whoever we want when we grow up.  And then we grow up and realize that our options are nearly infinite, and likely require time and commitment that may or may not interfere with all the stuff we aren't told about - the cost of graduate school, family obligations, unexpected illness, and/or a moderate-to-severe obsession with Mad Men/The Wire/Lost/Breaking Bad.  So we pick and choose our priorities, which may slightly close the gap between real life and infinity, but we hardly notice because Jack and Sawyer have bigger fish to fry and we've decided to go along for the ride.  Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Blogging About Exes

Right or Wrong?

Some folks  prefer to mourn the loss of their (not so) recent relationship(s) behind the privacy of closed doors, while others take their heartbreak to the world-wide-view of the nets (aka the internet).  Regardless of your preference, the bottom line is the same: breakups are messy, mutual or otherwise.  Sharing the (familiar) gory details of who gets what, who said what, and who meant what can give us a (false?) sense of control and (often) needed validation as we face the loss of a companionship we (might have) once believed would be forever.  Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On the Chosen Ones

The Lefties.

To all the Righties in the room (myself included), realizing someone is a lefty for the first time is like finding out a deep, dark, indescribable, envious secret, and often encompasses an excited verbal acknowledgement along the lines of Oh! I didn't realize you were a lefty! Tacit merit is assigned to their newly elevated stature for no real reason other than they can write with the less-frequently-used hand. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Skipping Town

Together.

The agonizing skype dates and (in)frequent emotional reunions associated with long distance relationships makes one question whether skipping town together is a road worth traveling. As the pros and cons of the lives left behind are weighed against the inevitable challenges (and joys) of relocation responsibilities, bonds are acknowledged and solidified with clarity that comes only with (finally) making a decision and jumping in head first. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On the Co-Habitation Effect

Moving In Together.

While every couple moves in together for different reasons - to cut down on rent responsibilities, travel time between sleepovers, or to test-drive the "next step " - all (presumably) hope for the best. And then you either sink or swim, to the bottom of the infinite abyss grasping (over days, months or years) for breaths of fresh air, or (alternately) right into an Olympic-worthy butterfly stroke, where the bumps and bruises last (hypothetical) seconds and the finish line is secondary to the journey. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On (My) Public School Education

Graduation Class Size: 1K.

In spite of the crowded hallways and over-sized classes, I made sure to nail the extra credit on French language exams and master (and secretly enjoy) AP calculus equations. And while history and geography didn't come as easily, it wasn't for want of trying. I sought private tutoring lessons in preparation for the annually dreaded NY State-required Regents test (from my American History teacher), and cried through (the bad kind of) parent-teacher conferences with Mr. Cohen, who did everything in his power to attempt to teach me about the Middle Ages. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Things to Worry About

Agreeing w/ F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Yesterday, during my bus ride home from work, I experienced my second - maybe third - rainy day (or downpour) in Colorado since I moved here in August because although it snows regularly, there's little compromise for anything in between. And as the public transportation patrons commiserated with smiles and whispers over whether they would arrive at their ultimate destination unscathed (-they wouldn't), I wavered between my own concerns about attempting to (impossibly) stay dry while enjoying the welcomed wet weather I so often miss from the east coast. In doing so, I thought of my roommate's famous mantra - [She] worries about things to worry about - and then found myself scanning my memories for other rare but occasional worry-free moments, to prove him wrong - or myself right - that, in fact, it's possible to live in this world without one eye looking forward and the other behind. And then I decided that it didn't matter if I got drenched or if my favorite Target red flat shoes got (even more) ruined, I would embrace the storm by getting off (the bus) one block early. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On First Loves

And Final Flings.

We never forget the excitement and pain associated with our first loves, the ones who – in that moment – got away, until Mr./Ms. Right came along, and the whirlwind of emotions associated with those memories become fleeting and eventually replaced by permanence and compatibility. And yet lessons learned from one’s first exposure to that thang called love - responsible for song lyrics, memorable movie quotes, and keeping Kleenex in business - stay with us through our children’s children first love so that we can, in some way, contribute meaningful “remember when’s” and “one day you’ll realize” in their own moments of despair. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Mustache Courtship

Stamina & Self-Assurance.

Some folks abhor the mustache look, unable to relate to its lone placement above the upper lip, without a beard or goatee to latch onto. Others - like myself – are alternately drawn to its willingness to stand free, regardless of shape and size, and acknowledge the creativity and effort of its rightful owner(s). Moustaches require stamina and confidence, the ability to stand tall against those who admonish its unique existence on the face and in this world, an admirable quality of self-assurance (even if feigned) that most of us lack. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On a Plane...

...back to Denver, Colorado. This blog will resume tomorrow, Tuesday April 10, 2012.

On What Not to Wear

Cognitive Clothes.

Each week, those lucky few who anticipate Casual Friday for the ninety-six hours leading up to that prideful, jeans-flaunting moment, boast at (early bird) happy hours about comfort of their denim pants and cotton tees making Mondays through Thursdays worthwhile. And yet research suggests (see blog reminder below) that those of us who maintain the formality of our office environment to the very last pre-weekend minute might benefit in mind, body, and soul in some unexpected ways. Enjoy (your work week and weekend attire)!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Jumping to Conclusions

Wrongful Assumptions.

How easy it is to forget that people's perceptions of ourselves is as inaccurate as ours of them, and yet we so often quickly jump to conclusions based on mundane, irrelevant details, that - in that particular moment - mean (and say) everything that couldn't be farther from the truth. Skinny jeans insinuate confidence, an unexpected sigh suggests disinterest, and a missed salutation feels like the end of the world. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Being Unrelated

Einstein's Biography.

Just yesterday evening at the local liquor store, where I stopped to buy a celebratory bottle of champagne for a close friend’s accomplishment, the woman at the checkout counter asked (upon confirming my legal drinking age) if my last name made life difficult. My response was the usual one – that, if nothing else, I was much more aware of how often one shares their name with people for the first time on a daily basis. She laughed, as it often goes, and I added (my latest additional contribution) that I’d just bought Einstein’s biography [a few years ago] because as often as his name comes up I’m ashamed to know as little as I do about … my great, great grandfather. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Hoarding Memories

Binge & Purge.

Detaching ourselves from the sentimentality of our pasts is not always an easy feat, as shared artwork, rusty cutlery, and scraps of tissue paper carry the biased weight of who we once were. Yet recognizing the value of an un-objective binge and purge (or, at the very least, boxing up those memories for a good ol' 1-800-storage-unit) can free us from the material constraints of what was while empowering us with the mental strength for what will be. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]

On Passover Traditions

Tablecloths and Babies.

The only Passover Seder I might have missed - if then - was during my late teens/early twenties when college responsibilities seemed like the perfectly reasonable excuse to miss a family holiday. The two-hour drive from Middletown (CT) to Brooklyn (NY) was the first on a list of multiple barriers between myself and the four questions (-my younger brother being the second). And yet the multi-state divide between Denver (CO) and that very same lineup of usual Passover suspects will not keep me from this year's tradition, which includes - but is not limited to - my nephew's first Jewish holiday ever. Enjoy!

[Blog Reminder: Click on Subtitle Above for Article.]