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Right up until Memorial Day Weekend I was completely unconcerned with my single-hood. In fact, I was happy with it. I didn’t need any man to boost my already inflated ego. I did as I pleased, had no one to answer to, and enjoyed life as it came. When I would go out I didn’t have an invisible sign posted on my forehead reading “ISO Next Boyfriend”. I could have cared less if I happened to catch the eye of a member of the opposite sex.
About three weeks ago, all that changed.
Let’s revisit Memorial Day Weekend. That Friday night my gal pal asked me if I wanted to go to a party with her. She told me it would be low key and there would only be a few people there. I didn’t know anyone who would be in attendance, but I had nothing better to do, so I decided to tag along. I threw on a nice-but-casual shirt, kept on my dirty jeans, slipped on some flips, and we headed out.
Nothing remarkable occurred at this party. She was right, it was low key. I spent the evening talking with other guests about grown-up stuff like buying houses, the job market, and infomercial products. If I recall correctly, I believe I had two beers the entire time I was there. There was one dude there, who I remember thinking was handsome, but had no further conversation with other than a group discussion on the magic of the Sham-Wow. Somewhere around 11pm my gal pal and I decided to hit the streets of South Philly and head home.
The next day I thought no more of the party, or anyone who had been there. While drinking coffee and feeding into my FaceBook addiction, I notice I had a friend request. Inserted in the request was a personal message asking, “are you Jess from last night”? Immediately I realized it was the dude from the party whom I had thought in passing was handsome. I confirmed the request and that I had been “Jess from last night”.
Quick overview of the next 3-4 weeks: After several emails back and forth, dude asks me out on a date. We go out an average of twice a week. I really start digging on dude, and read into our interactions that he feels the same. One Sunday we go out to dinner and, to me, it seems we had a fabulous time and were really on the same page about where this is going. I go home completely smitten.
The following Friday we make plans to get together that night, and the subject of who’s house to hang out comes up. That’s when, while at work, I get an email (a friggin’ email for cryin’ out loud) from dude saying that he doesn’t want this to go any further than casual dating and is not interested in anything more “serious” than that. My stomach does a 180, my brain does a mental double take, and all I can think to myself is “how could I have read this situation so completely wrong”?? Naturally, my response was (via telephone, and after noting an email was a seemingly insensitive and cowardly way of relaying such info) “well, if you’re not with the program, then I am going to have to change the channel”. I added, “If you ever decide to come over to the ‘dark side’, you have my number”. I wasn’t angry, but I was seriously bummed.
That was about three weeks ago. Over that time I have found myself lamenting over the fact that I don’t have that “someone special” more often then I care to admit. I’ve mentally reviewed my previous relationships and realized most of the time I was the “dumpee” rather than the “dumper”. I complained to a male coworker about it, to which he responded, “well, you do give off a ‘casual’ vibe”. I’ve gone back to a conversation I had with a male friend several months ago when, over a few drinks, he said to me, “I’d make out with you, but I wouldn’t date you”. I had chalked that one up to him just being a womanizer (which, in all honesty, he is), but now I can’t help but wonder if there was some truth in his statement. I never get asked out, I am always the pursuer, and at this point I can’t help but ponder: what is wrong with me??? I really like who I am and think I am really quite a catch, so why doesn’t anyone else recognize this?
Now, at this point I feel compelled to inject that I do realize most of this self-deprecation probably arises from the fact that it was a “he’s just not that into me” situation, versus a “I’m just not that into him” kinda gig. And I also do realize that like any other temporary state, this too shall pass. But still, I’m not the only woman I know in this condition. I can’t tell you how many of my lady friends complain about the same frustration.
We are what I call “ASS”es: Attractive, Successful, and Single. We’ve got the total package, and yet we are all single as the day is long. One would think that we would be prime targets for any man of equally top-quality stature. But somehow, here we all are, hopelessly dateless. Are men, as a fellow ASS put it, too intimidated to ask us out? Do people automatically assume we are taken? Or is it as another ASS fears, that we excrete some weird chemical that repels the opposite sex?
Whatever it may be, for me personally the real frustration lies in that ever since I was put in the “casual dating” category by dude, I can’t seem to get back to that single-and-content-with-it state that I once was. I’m still not seeking out Mr. Right (or even Mr. Right Now for that matter) whenever I exit the house, but now I’m left with the lingering pangs of “why can’t someone just ‘be into me’”? I’m not alone in this, but still, what a bummer.
A personality quirk. A woman’s jealous nature. An uncontrollable bodily function. You’re 45, and when alone you sing along with Avril Lavigne songs. You live a double life as a raging, yet functional, alcoholic. A man’s desire to wear women’s undergarments.
What do all six of these things have in common?
They are all parts of who you are that you wouldn’t dare share with someone the first time you meet them.
Many moons ago, a friend and I had an in depth conversation about the psychology of getting to know someone. It’s a general rule of thumb that if you want someone to greet you with a smile the next time you see them, there are certain things you just don’t talk about. She coined this withholding of self, “presenting your Representative“.
Your representative is the one who looks out for your behalf, and knows it’s best that the other person isn’t left thinking to themselves, “ok, that was TMI (too much information)”. You may be dying on the inside to tell the other person that you can only get off sexually when you dress up in full body animal costumes (a real fetish, known as being a Furry), but your Representative knows better. Your Representative may hint at the issue in an attempt to feel out the other for similar interests, asking questions such as “Have you ever heard of Furry Fandom? What do you think of those people?”, or “I have a strange fascination with mascots, isn’t that funny?” Your Representative knows this is a much safer way to approach the issue than blurting out, “It would be really hot if we went back to my place, dressed up like the Easter Bunny and made out for a while”.
As for a more personal example, on a first date (or third for that matter) I would never discuss that I choose not to wash my hands very often because I’m a fan of “exposure”, and I think that such hygiene habits directly correlate to the fact that I don’t get sick very often. If the topic came up, I may say instead, “I have some unique idiosyncrasies when it comes to hygiene”, and leave it at that. This is my Representative in her full effect. It may leave some question marks in the other person’s mind, but at least they are still willing to caress my hand at the end of the evening.
Now, there is one exception to this rule. If you feel good vibes are being reciprocated and the two of you are jiving a bit, you can get away with sharing some of your more tame eccentricities by using the old familiar line, “This isn’t something you usually tell someone the first time you meet them but…”. Generally this gives the other person a chance to mentally prepare for what’s coming next, and tells them you know what you are about to share isn’t the most socially flattering, but you feel you can trust them not to freak out upon delivery of this forthcoming information.
So how long exactly does it take for you to let your representative withdrawal into the background a bit and let more of your true self come forward? I wish I had an exact timeline for all you closet Furries out there, but in my personal experience it seems to all depend on the two people. There have been times I’ve felt comfortable upon first meeting admitting I own a small arsenal of panties, which allows me to get away with not doing laundry for over a month, yet I only own one or two pairs of jeans that I regularly wear (you do the math on that one, folks). Then other times, it may take a half dozen or so times before I’m willing to share that I lived on a hippie commune at the tender age of 18 months, and that during that period of time my name was Atma Kaur. I would simply suggest that you let your Representative and inner misfit confer on the decision, and let those oddities out when your gut tells you the time is right. And if by chance the person gets up, splashes their drink in your face and promptly walks out- you know it wasn’t meant to be anyway.
I encourage you all to let your inner freak fly, just consult with your Representative first.
Now please excuse me while I go dance around my living room to Hank Williams Jr, wearing nothing by a smock and a ski mask.
Inspiration strikes again in the Think Tank! I spent my Saturday morning penning a song, unfortunately it was nothing really public publish worthy.
However, my (small) fan base has made it clear that outtakes are always enjoyable, and often comical. Therefore, I have put together another one for your viewing pleasure.
Without further ado, may I present Sadie’s Song- Outtakes:
If for some reason the above video isn’t working CLICK HERE for the direct link.
For those of you who don’t know, over the last two months I had been looking into adopting a dog. After countless hours searching Craigslist & Petfinder, and a few trips to local shelters…. I finally found a dog to call my own!
She is the sweetest girl, and in typical new mother fashion, here are some photos to share. Click on any pic for a larger view:
When I went to the SPCA yesterday, accompanied by my dog-owner-mentor, I had a list of potential dogs I had seen online that I wanted to check out. Out of the four, two were already known to not do well with cats (one of my primary requirements), one had been taken back by it’s owners, and sadly, for one I had come in too late and her time at the shelter was up.
Not to be discouraged, I walked around the hundred or so cages looking for potential adoptees. As I was looking at another dog, my friend brought my attention to a calm white dog a few cages down. I thought she was the cutest thing, and immediately asked the girl working there to note that after seeing all the dogs I wanted to come back to take her out. Before walking away I looked at her info sheet to see age, history, etc. My eye caught her name, and I just couldn’t believe it… The folks at the shelter had named her Jessie! That’s when I knew it was meant to be.
I continued looking around the shelter, but couldn’t get the little white girl out of my head. I tested out another pup first, but he was way too energetic for me, and ended up not testing well with cats. I asked if we could go back to Jessie, but requested that before we took her out to “cat test” her, so that I wouldn’t get my hopes up in the play yard, only to find out she may very well eat my resident feline friend. Thankfully, she was curious and sniffed at the cat, but paid no further mind.
After spending a few minutes in the play yard with her, I felt confident to finally utter the words I had been waiting so long to say: “This is the one. I want to take this dog home”. Embarrassingly, at that moment my eyes started to well up with happiness and excitement, and I had to wipe away a few budding tears. How ridiculous would that have been to start crying at the shelter? Seriously.
After a car ride, a visit to the pet shop, a stop at my dog-mentor’s house to meet her crew and get a bath, a few walks around the new block and a good nights sleep (only one bark in the middle of the night), she is peacefully laying around today, but always by my side. I’m sure that she is enjoying the sanctity of a quiet home, lots of affection, and a few treats when she does something good. I think she will be happy in her new home.
Rice-kitty (aka meowhead) is reacting to our new addition just as I has expected: Initial puffy tail freak out, hiding out under the bed, occasionally coming out for food and water and/or to lay by my side- with one eye fixed on the dog at all times. He lived with a dog before, so I know he’ll be just fine shortly. In the meantime he’s still getting plenty of one-on-one time with his fellow couch potato. He’s still my bud, and he knows he’ll always be number one in my heart.
In case you are wondering; no, she does not have an official name just yet. Obviously it would be just plain bizarre (and possibly quite egocentric) if I kept the name Jessie, but I have been tossing a few ideas around. There are a few that seem to stick, and I’ll be sure to update when the right one comes along.
Lastly, just wanted to note that the title of the post is actually quite inaccurate. Doggie actually makes six! Between myself, Rice the cat, 3 hermit crabs and Doggie I’m starting to feel like I’m living in a menagerie. Feeding time rocketed to a whole new level this morning, and it wasn’t until my stomach started to feel upset that I realized, “oh yeah, I need to eat too”.
It’s going to take us all a little while to adjust, but I have the feeling we’ll all be one happy family in no time. All six of us.
I never thought I would say this, but my favorite time of day is morning. I treasure the weekend mornings where I wake at my own pace, sip my coffee, and do as I please.
As pictured above, I have my “morning station”, which seems to be where all my crap gathers; all my latest idées fixes within an arms reach. This is where and when my most greatest inspirations are birthed.
I guess what makes this time and space so dear is that I know this quiet solitude with myself cannot last forever. Already, I hear the buzz upon the streets through my open windows. I know that it is time to get myself together, and move on with my day.
With that, I will enjoy these last few moments in the “think tank” before dressing and hygiene-ating, then calling friends to settle our plans.
May you all have that singular time and place where you too find your inner peace.
It’s something I have been working on for some time now. It’s something that takes practice, and effort, and a heckuva lotta “I” statements. It’s something I have struggled to attain, and when I am finally able to grasp it I clench my white knuckled fists around it so tightly that it can’t slip away under the constant erosion.
It’s what I call Being the Zen Master.
There is a certain sector of my life in which has been under the influence of perpetual “drama”, despite my attempts to pacify all parties involved. I frequently find myself the object of said “drama”, although I have not been the source nor the catalyst. I remain a neutral figurehead amongst the chaos, although admittedly, it is not always easy when others feverishly tug at your cloak and provoke you in an attempt to reel you in.
I have finally materialized my inner Zen Master. In the past days, while those around me are yelling, angry and making direct accusations to my character, I have been able to hold my head high, acknowledge their complaints with respect and dignity, whilst still making my point clear. I put up a barrier to all attempts at being drawn in to an emotional battle, where no one can possibly come out triumphant.
At first I thought my attempts at Zen-Mastering were all for naught- nothing but continued failed attempts. Then today the epiphany hit: the “drama” is increasing because my techniques are working. I am experiencing resistance because these are the last futile attempts of a losing soldier’s battle. We are now approaching a cross road, where the origin of the drama either chooses to acquiesce or remove thyself from the situation all together.
Immeasurable strength can be found within the calm and happy center of your own personal universe. While the opposition may win a few battles, the Zen Master always wins the war.
The poor little lentil…. It by far one of the most delicious, affordable, nutritious, and yet widely ignored foods.
Nearing the top of the most-bang-for-your-buck list, a pound of lentils costs roughly sixty cents. Lentils are also jam packed with protein, fiber and nutrients. For a full breakdown of nutritional value, click HERE. To read it in a little more plain english, click HERE.
So what can you do with these simple legumes? Being the soup maven that I am, I will share two original recipes that are not only tasty, but nutritious and delicious as well. An added bonus is that you probably already have all the ingredients you need in your cupboards!
Lentils: Two Ways
Spicy Lentil Soup
Spicy Lentil Soup:
This one has a real Mediterranean taste to it, and is sure to please any palate.
- Packet of Ramen Noodles, chicken flavor
- 1 cup cooked lentils (save the cooking water)
- Fresh Carrots (sliced)
- Lima Beans, Corn (both frozen)
- Curry (2 or 3 tsp), salt & pepper
Put a few cups of water in your pot, and add the Ramen seasoning packet. Also, add the lentils and cooking water, along with the veggies. Begin to heat this mixture, while adding your seasoning to taste. When the carrots have softened and the soup is almost ready, break up the Ramen Noodles into 1/4 pieces and add them to the soup. In 3 minutes the noodles will be fully cooked, and your soup is ready to eat!
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Tomato Lentil Soup
Tomato Lentil Soup
This soup has the Mom’s Kitchen feel, and is perfect for anyone in need of a little extra TLC.
- 1 can of Tomato Soup
- 3/4 cup cooked lentils, still slightly firm (no need to save the water this time)
- 1/2 cup cooked rice
- Fresh Spinach (as much as you like!)
- Salt & Pepper
-Shredded cheese of your choosing
Prepare tomato soup according to directions, adding lentils and spinach before heating. Also add salt & pepper to taste. When the spinach is wilted and the soup is piping hot, mix in the rice. Put in a bowl, top with shredded cheese and enjoy!
Note: I add the rice after I put the soup in the bowl. If not, the rice will continue expanding, and if you have extra you want to save for lunch the next day, you will find the rice has absorbed all the liquid in the soup- leaving you with a tomato lentil mush. Just put the rice in a separate container, mix in before reheating, and you’ll be golden.
Here I go, sharing my music with the world once again. Consider yourself lucky folks- there’s something that makes it so much easier to sing alone and in front of a camera than in front of people. I warn you now, I will refuse any requests for a live performance…
To note: I do have songs that are more deep and pensive, but I choose not to share them with anyone. These are my simple songs, topical at best, splashed with a hint of humor.
Plural
How I encountered this word:
Ok so, I know we all know the meaning of the word “plural” (or at least I would hope so), but just now I was immersed in some deep thought about how the word “folk” is plural, which means that the word “folks” is a plural of a plural. As I was spiraling into the mental abyss of compounding pluralism -not unlike contemplating the infinity of the universe- I thought to myself, “wow, plural is a really weird word”. I know we’ve all had that same experience, where you say/read a word over and over and it starts to sound funny and almost foreign.
Just thought I would share this morning’s deep thoughts.
Life-Is-Good Souvenirs
Gosh darn it, life is good.
I wanted to write all the events in which are making my life so good right now, and how full of general love the last several days have been, but I’ve been so busy getting out there and living life, that instead I will leave you with this:
I encourage you all to go out there and spread the love in as many of the following ways as possible:
Love is the very fabric of the universe.
Laugh often, love much & live well.
