On My Honda Civic

aka My Safe Place.

I chose to lease - and not own - my 2012 Honda Civic due to fear of commitment beyond the first three years of our relationship, after which I wasn't 100% sure I could see us being serious.  So many options, so little time -- as those commitment-phobic comments go -- and yet I take care of her (or is it him?) with the same diligence I would if we were in it for the long haul, including the very first car wash I directly participated in (just three days ago - hence this posting), and I can't help but feel like a proud, proud backseatdriver.  Enjoy! 

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On Midnight Movies

Ten Dollar Ticket to Bed.

I keep driving by the shabby chic movie theater (within walking distance of my Denver apartment) on my way to and from work, admiring (from a distance) the midnight venues for repeated Saturday night showings.  Each drive-by fills with mixed emotion -- the desire to stay up past 11:15pm in my thirties in order to enjoy a film I watched repetitively in my teens (the films range of Back to the Future to Goonies) pitted against the near impossibility that requires me to actually stay up (several hours) past my bedtime.  I'm torn like clockwork, every morning at 7:30am and evening at 4:45pm, because I know if I thought I'd stay awake, I'd go.  And if coffee would help, I'd drink it.  But some things in life aren't meant to be, and - besides - my birthday gift from my 'rents (a year-long subscription to Netflix) should give me an out, or at least an opportunity to practice, what I know will never actually ever happen.  Enjoy!

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On the Black Sheep

Behind Whispering Backs.

We knowingly whisper behind backs of black sheep, grateful to be the ones looking rather than looked at, assuming rather than assumed about, mocking instead of mocked, praying the distance between us and them grows steadily apart, inch by foot by eternity.  Until, one day, we find ourselves on the inside looking out, reminded of our own ignorant ways before karma caught up with us, then got ahead of us, two steps - then three, turning only to pity who we've become instead of who we might have been, had we abandoned the whispering masses and traveled the road less mistaken.  Enjoy!

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On Memorial Day

Three day weekend off from the blog, which resumes tomorrow.  Hope your holiday was filled with grilled food and fine company.

On Minimal Conversation

Tech-Knowledge-y.

I sat through a work lunch this week amazed by how un-nagged by my colleague's phones they were, as I resisted - until hailing the check was finally contemplated, over an hour later - checking my own i-phone for email communication.  Their patience was admirable, their attention on each other, and my own stamina tempted by my desire to live in the actual moment or the alternate electronic reality.  (Both sides won).  Enjoy!

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On Visiting Family

Rules & Regulations.

When my 'rents came to visit my new Denver apartment for the first time just two months ago, without hesitation I forked over the keys to our 2012 (leased) Honda Civic and (pre-owned) queen size bed.  While proud to demonstrate the fruits of my relocated independence, seniority is as seniority does, and it's the small luxuries in life that my folks have hard-earned over the last thirty-two (plus) years.  Enjoy! 

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On First Impressions

Keeping Secrets.

During those first few days, weeks, and months of dating, we must walk the fine line between revealing too much about ourselves and sharing just enough to keep them- and us -interested.  For those over-sharers in the crowd, this can require a trying balance of patience and self-control, until the point when the relationship's precarious future is fortified, and all secrets let loose.  Enjoy!  

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On Table Manners

Wining & Dining.

These days, adult table manners involves muting the cell phone in an attempt to keep it far, far away from the company with which we keep during meal times.  While I used to berate smart phone fanatics (on this very blog), I have since (in the last year and three months when I bought my first) become one.  And while I easily frustrate from distracted companions, I have recently decided (this past week, in fact) to make a concerted effort to defy the nagging inclination to check, re-check, and check again any potential tapping on my virtual shoulder, at least while my plate's still hot and my conscience still tempted.  Enjoy!  

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On Being (Just) Friends

When Harry Befriended Sally.

When faced - once again - with the long-time debate over whether men and women can actually be friends, we tend to check our mental rolodex for proof that it's legitimately possible. Marginal moments are weighed in favor of the relationship in question, as conclusions are drawn about when Harry befriended Sally.  Enjoy!

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On a Work Conference

In Wyoming. This blog will resume on Monday, May 21st. Happy weekend!

On Premature Planning

Unrealistic Fantasies.

We’ve all been there – planning ahead of ourselves in the midst of the exhilaration associated with meeting someone new.  Wedding vows, baby names, paint chips for the interior wall of the glassed-in porch in our cabin in the country (perhaps in the form of a covertly-named pinterest board) come as easily as the glasses of wine downed on our first few dates.  Actual connectedness is set aside for the unrealistic realities we hope will come to fruition in the not-so-near future, as Mr. or Ms. Right are actually enjoying happy hour at a table nearby.  Enjoy!

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On a Plane

For mother's day; this blog will resume tomorrow.

On Staying Fit

Internal Motivations.

At the turn of the new year, most of us vow to take better care of our health – to exercise more, floss, lose weight, eat more fruits and vegetables – and spend the next few weeks exceeding our goals, high on the momentum of starting anew.  But then Gossip Girl and Mad Men resume, and friends have social viewings filled with  pizza and fried appetizers, and before we know it, four hours of couch-filled inactivity ensues.   And then Valentine’s Day rolls around (my annually-designated steak dinner), and birthdays with cupcakes, and Easter candy, mother’s day  brunches, and all of a sudden new year’s eve resolutions feel like distant memories, and the internal debate ensues about how to get on track and find motivation that truly sticks.  A few days ago, a (good) friend said (matter-of-factly) that she flosses every day, as if this feat were actually part of her daily routine (is that even possible?). Ninety-six hours later, I’m going 4 out of 5 days strong, an accomplishment I’ve failed at for at least a decade of January promises.  (Plus, I have a dental exam on June 6^th.)  Enjoy!

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On Bodies of Water

A Small Fish.

As a general non-swimmer, I’ve come to accept that water sports make me nervous. Snorkeling? Only with a life preserver within five feet of the boat. Tubing? Only in two-foot rapids where I am guaranteed to stand. Surfing? No way, Jose! And it’s not that I can’t swim – I always made it to at least the second or third level swim class at summer camp. But the weeks and months leading up to the exam (usually two to four laps of varying strokes in less than pleasant June temperatures – in the Catskills) were filled with dread, tears, and incessant feedback on my latest practice drills at the local YMCA pool. (Mom/Dad, did I do it right that time?) When the appropriate age rolled around for womanly excuses, I milked it for all it’s worth. And when I elevated to counselor status (ages 17 to 23), I simply refused to (ever) get in the water in the most socially acceptable way:..a decade that couldn’t come soon enough Enjoy!

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On Bad Habits

Coffee & Cigarettes.

I was studying abroad in Sussex, England when my first cigarette was handed to me, in the desolate vestibule of a deserted campus dorm, as the British campus security guard glared at us from the walkway.  I was twenty-one years old, awkwardly balancing the Camel Light between two unsteady fingers, not sure whether to feel cool or guilty (-I felt cool).  I followed the specific instructions of my new Californian best friend (let's call her Tiff), holding the smoke in my mouth before inhaling, and within minutes (approximately eight), I was a pro.  We spent the next six months perfecting our craft: on French balconies overlooking cities we'd only read about in history books; over coffee and Victorian novels, one book assigned per week; and on overnight sleeper trains, when we were too afraid to doze on account of notorious, sleeper thieves.  Five years later, I quit smoking on December 1st, 2006.  Enjoy!

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On (Goose Down) Sleeping Bags

A Camper's Delight.

Something happens in the woods - around the campfire, inside (goose down) sleeping bags, beneath the stars - that is indescribably unique to being surrounded by wilderness and isolated in an environment reliant on our ability to disconnect.   We share stories we wouldn't otherwise remember, exchange support we wouldn't otherwise call upon, and appreciate beauty we wouldn't otherwise recognize, for moments too brief to take for granted.  Enjoy!

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On(stage)

"The Public Introvert."

Eight months ago, during my first week at my (then) new job, I was quietly approached by my friendly supervisor with several upcoming dates during which I was expected to publicly present to sizable audiences ranging from thirty to fifty people on topics related to my position.  Immediately, my stomach sank. And as my heart began pounding louder than any coherant response I might have come up with in that moment, I bit my lip, held back my tears, half-smiled, and tacitly fought my sudden inclination to quit my job after less than thirteen days.  You see, while I am an extrovert (translation: can speak with ease in large groups of people; not shy; sometimes verbose; and almost always comfortable meeting new faces),  I'm terrified of public speaking.  So terrified, in fact, that I have avoided public speaking at all costs, against the better judgment of graduate school mentors and classmates, and spent the entirety of my five years in my masters program volunteering myself as the "behind the scenes" tech person.  With the dreaded dates on my calendar, I did the only thing I could think of: I joined Toastmasters.  And so began my (uphill) journey to become a less fearful public speaker, with the newfound realization that while we may never completely eliminate our anxiety of the world's greatest fear, it is not only possible to become better than we imagine, we may even become great some day.  Enjoy!   

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On Fan Mail

I've Written Three...

...two in 1985 - Bette Midler and Fred Savage – and the third in 2003. Since I've started this blog (two years and three weeks ago), I've written two more letters, one to a favorite author and another to Bill Murray, and only the former wrote back. I take every opportunity to hear him speak, read, show his face in public, and then I stand on line for however long that particular line takes, to get yet another novel signed, during which I unwavering proclaim that we’d likely make great friends based on my own faulty tendency to confuse the art with the artist. And each time (okay, just once), he graciously signs my book, “your friend, Dave Eggers.” Enjoy!

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On Dinner Table Conversation

Topics of Discussion.

Dinner time in my family’s household has always consisted of rounding up the troops for a sit-down meal, during which politics are discussed, the day’s events are revealed, and recent accomplishments or frustrations are mulled over until plates are nearly cleared.  And for those participants generous enough to stick around for clean-up responsibilities – excluding the chef, of course – the dinner table conversation is prolonged for ten minutes longer, with exchanges of insight and humor at their best.  Enjoy!

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On Eating Alone

60 Minutes.

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One of the biggest adjustments I’ve made since moving to Colorado is figuring out how to pass the lunch hour.  In New York City, where my ten year career spanned most of lower Manhattan (Chinatown, the West Village, and Chelsea), the sixty minutes often entailed window shopping, new restaurants,  and meeting friends who worked within walking distance.  In Denver, where eateries are limited and play dates typically require a vehicle, I find myself doing the one thing I avoided most on the east coast: exercise.  The compromise is bittersweet, and I don’t mean the dark chocolate I used to dabble with on Bleeker Street and 3^rd Avenue. Enjoy!

On Fate

Meant to Be?

We search for meaning in our daily occurrences even when there isn't any because the alternative - to accept life’s meaningless trials and tribulations – feels like a less romantic and unreasonable option.  Our premature prescriptions of fate, assigned with minimal hesitation and abundant composure, inevitably disappoints, but not before anticipation, distraction, and clarity burst from our seams. Enjoy!

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