Who's On Your Zombie Apocalypse Team?

Airplanes are fantastic places to have wondrous, strange conversations. On a flight earlier this year, a very fun friend told me about her plan for a zombie apocalypse. I was a bit thrown because I realized I had no plan for such an event. My emergency training is limited to a blanket in my trunk in case I get stuck in a blizzard. The likelihood of that happening in central Texas is not high.

Weapons are generally useless on the undead and I'm not really good with sharp objects or explosives anyway. My choice in footwear typically prevents running swiftly or being at all nimble. I'll have Olive with me so quietly hiding is also out. I explained all of this to my friend and she looked concerned. Because she is hilariously honest, she politely informed me I would not be on her zombie apocalypse survival team. She did, however, suggest I pull together a group that would supplement my shortcomings (and one that would have me).

Cataloguing my skills along with my needs in a crisis has been an interesting process. I'm tough, luckily, and also capable. But, worrying can get the better of me and my patience runs thin. I can think quickly and creatively but my execution is nowhere near MacGyver. I can climb really well and I always sense which direction is North. I may briefly collapse into inconsolable tears. So, we've got some pros and some cons.

Comfort was the first thing that came to mind. I'm likely to die (fighting, mind you, but ultimately nonetheless). Big, strong arms around me are a must. These will have the added bonus of being multi-purpose (lifting heavy stuff, swatting away pickaxes, carrying my lifeless body to a raging bonfire and dance party, etc). If the arms come with a beard in which to hide my face, all the better.

Next, I'll need a COO. When stressed, I often just want to be told what to do by a smart person. In times of catastrophic death and destruction, intelligent direction in a kind tone of voice could really come in handy. This person will come equipped with maps, illumination, wet wipes, and a brilliant plan of action (and a Plan B). They will be so well prepared that I will effortlessly place my care into their capable hands. This is something I do not do easily so this person will need to be the most ass-kicking, name-taking individual around.

I will also need laughter. I've been known to wallow, giving undeserving people and situations attention and time, which is a big bummer and tends to have negative cyclical effect. There is one thing alone that prevents or stops this for me and it is good company. I wish I could say that I am able to cure myself of Bell Jar, but I'm just not. I rely on others for this and I do so without guilt or shame. Someone who cusses a lot and does interpretive dances with me at 3am would be great in this role.

If my Dad could come, that would also be really awesome. He is better than MacGyver. True story.

I am now accepting applications. While the responsibility quotient is high and the likelihood of survival is low, I can promise a memorable exodus if it comes to that. I can also promise my all because if there is one thing I'm not giving up easily, it is this beautiful life. Serious inquiries only, please.

I fell so hard

I find it therapeutic to put myself in new situations involving a rather Phoenix-like Ctrl+Alt+Delete. But, between burning it down and building it back up is usually the most lengthy, emotional, and taxing. It can be a wearisome job to live without roots or rules. So, I've become an expert at dangling in limbo and I do it with diligent regularity.

Before

To dangle is in essence to float but also to be in the precarious state of almost falling. Dangling denotes risk, precision, fragility; to be suspended in between two things that may or may not be comfortable, to attach barnacle-like to the fine line. To dangle requires assiduous concentration and painstaking practice. It also requires bravery and resolution, to be have purpose even in the unknown. Dangling defies gravity with a shrug and another try.

After some practice

Three years in Austin have been a good lesson in dangling and in limbo. This is a place and people very hard to define and even more difficult to embrace. Fortunately, if there was ever a place to practice dangling gracefully and with comfort, it is in Texas.

Here's to 3 years and many more happy years to come.

Love you, Texas!

Online Dating Vol. 3 - Furry Eligibles and Staying Up All Night

So you've sifted through the good, bad, and ugly of your local eligibles. You manage to not insult/bore/scare your suitors with email message clumsiness. You may even have had some clever banter going. Now for the terrifying part...you have to meet these people, face to face, and determine once and for all if they are as cute and interesting as you've talked yourself into believing.

And then you do it. And it isn't that bad.

Did I just have fun? Yes, yes I did. And I wasn't even drugged and chopped up into little pieces. Could it be this easy?*

Snark and pessimism are some of my most prized and evolved traits which is why I'm a little disappointed to admit I've walked away from nearly every date happy, even impressed. There are some nifty dudes out there! Sure, I don't sense a romantic connection with everyone. But, I'm incredibly relieved that such high quality men are out there, just waiting to be dated. I haven't been treated this well in years!


Ahhhh, this is what it's all about, folks

Hats off to you, sirs. I applaud your bravery and prowess and I appreciate your kindness, conversation, and cocktails. You have given me a newfound hope that indeed some men are the adorable, loving, furry creatures I've always hoped they could be. (And with the ferocity in which I have sworn off men in the past, this is a truly noteworthy accomplishment.)

It is wrong that I've had such luck casually dating that I kinda want to throw in the towel on an actual long-term relationship?

Nah...I kid. We all know my preference is one special person only. But, ladies and gents, 3 months of online dating is one of the best decisions I've made and I suggest everyone get on out there and date the shit out of your town immediately.

Unless, of course...

*Ok, full disclosure...I did receive a text message informing me that one particular date was off the market on account of his wife discovering his infidelity. Luckily, I hadn't met with this person yet on account of my, um...intuition. Dudes, if you're going to using online dating to cheat, don't leave your phone around for your wife to find (and use to end your electronic relationships herself). C'mon, elementary!

Online Dating Vol. 2 - Response Rates and LL Cool J

Communication, I think we can all agree, is one of the most delicate, beautiful, tragic, complicated, important, moving, poorly done human tasks. It is a wonder we have managed to populate the planet at such an astounding rate when very many in our midst are incapable of exchanging even the most basic information.

Particularly mystifying appears to be communicating with someone who interests you on an online dating site. Now, let's not forget that the whole point of online dating sites is to connect a person with another person and enable them to contact each other easily and efficiently online. In other words, this is a communication tool.

And it even takes a lot of the work out of it by restricting how you'll do it. You get to send a message. That's it. You don't get to use your expensive cologne, enchanting blue eyes, or syrupy voice. That LL Cool J head nod and lip pucker you've been perfecting since 2001...you don't get to use it. The best wingman in the world...nope, not gonna help you here. Peacocks have more to work with so you really need to make it count, ladies and gentlemen!

I worked hard to make my "homepage" welcoming and optimized for conversion, being sure to include little tidbits you may use to craft your message of introduction. If you ignore those tidbits, it confuses me and indicates how attentive you're likely to be should you manage to get my clothes off; two things that ensure my clothes are staying absolutely put.

I work as an email marketer and I know that statistically you have between 1-4 seconds to make an impact when a recipient opens your message. If your shit is beige, you're going into the deleted folder faster than you can say "WTF." If you have the good sense to use the only tool available to you, the gift of human prose, you might just get your shit read. And that, kiddos, is why you're wasting your time and mine on this site to begin with.

I'm sorry to report that 37% of messages I've received have been this: "Hey, how are you?" 

Really?! I just picked my phone all the way up and pushed the screen twice to read that P.O.S. Forget it, dude. No, not even forget it...fuck you for interrupting my life and making a piss-poor example of the male species. Your comrades should kick your ass.

On the other end of the spectrum, I've had a good ~30% of messages exemplify wit, intelligence, a careful read of my information, and genuine interest. Some of them have downright sex appeal! I applaud you, sirs. I respond to about 75% of them.

The remaining 30% is just uncreative crap about how we have a lot in common (we don't) and that they just want to find a soul mate (because it is JUST so easy) and it would be nice to make two sets of footprints in the sand on those long walks on the beach (these people all live in Cedar Park, have bad haircuts, and don't know what ACL stands for which means I'd rather die alone, bless their sad, lonely little hearts).

Only 1 message in about 150 said I was ugly. I kindly asked he remove himself from the gene pool. I also cursed him with the fury of 1,000 suns.

Honestly, I too found it a bit difficult to start electronic conversations with strangers, especially if they didn't offer up any of those nifty little morsels that can be used to make a meaningful connection in a message. It's damn hard to tap into the sweet, clever, panty-dropping poetry of Mr. Cool J or the confident sensuality of Sade. But, as a professional email consultant who advises paying clients on writing engaging, action-oriented messages, if I couldn't pull it off,  I'd really feel like an epic failure and would probably just join a nunnery. I must have managed to not look like an asshole because I have a 95% response rate. If only I could have that kind of success on the actual dates. More to come...

Online Dating for the notbeige Vol 1

The next couple posts will be a series on my personal observations of online dating. My 3 month trial was both exhilarating and educational. And I got taken on a ton of amazing dates so I consider it a wild triumph. I've always loved dating, however unsuccessful I've been at it...the thrill of something new; the funny little games we play with each other; first kisses. It is the comedy and the grief of the human condition at its finest. Also, I was tired of my usual dates and felt compelled to release them to the wild to find more suitable mates.

I've never been very picky when it comes to dating luckily which can been verified by the long list of idiots, jerks, and losers I've allowed to waste my time. So, I considered myself an ideal candidate for online dating. I had low expectations and high hopes, just like everyone else who puts their mugshot online for all the world to criticize. Surely I'd meet someone that rides my same wave.

My initial reaction was one of fascination with how people portray themselves and how I am meant to interpret them. Dating profiles are an amazing wonder to behold. You are trying to connect with a complete stranger based on their synopsis of themselves which is undeniably bias. As the "shopper," I'm obligated to browse sleuth-like, sniffing out biases, omissions, and untruths. One doesn't read an online profile like one reads greeting cards, with an open heart and a genuine curiosity as to what lies inside if the front of the card strikes your fancy. No. Instead, you read them as one would read an invitation from a pharmaceutical company to go on an all-expenses paid cruise to the Seychelles; with suspicion and incertitude.

I'm not buying your "sense of humor" or your "kind heartedness." These things simply cannot be qualified in an online dating resume. In fact, I'm not even buying your photos at this point. So, let's stick to the facts and I'll be the judge if I find your sense of humor notable, ok?

It was also an incredible exercise in how I portray myself. On my profile I tried to omit bullshit like laid back and fun (terms that every single man on Planet Earth looks for in a woman according to Match.com). I mean, who would admit to being an uptight, boring fun-hater anyway? And you know those people are out there whether they admit to it publicly or not.

Instead, I tried to give real-life examples that would allow the reader to decide on their own if they liked the sound of me. I have a Shih Tzu. I stay up late. I went to college. If you are a quiet, conservative person who is fearful of dogs and hates live music, we're not going to get along and I assume you'll come to that conclusion naturally. And if not, I'll just ignore you. This isn't hard.

Also, I had expert input from one of my smartest female friends. The best part was that after her and I completed my profile and answered a few of those bogus personality questions, the site rather presumptuously indicated that I'm a disorganized junkie which I took as a compliment.

One curious observation was that people often try to mask their insecurities and flaws with snarky humor. I did get a laugh out of some of them but I could tell they probably wouldn't make for good conversation in real life and probably have small penises and huge egos. Moving on but thanks for adding a smile to my search, fellas. Clever writing is infinitely sexy...in my very unbiased opinion.

Alcohol makes you smarter and more attractive?

I completed day one of this detox project with my wits still about me.  I've received both positive and negative feedback but my favorite was a text message from a fellow booze connoisseur saying "I'm really disappointed in you." I'll abandon this healthy living bandwagon shortly, do not fear.

In the meantime, I've added some fun challenges to keep things interesting. Last night, I was invited to accompany some friends in a band (Horseshoes & Hand Grenades) to a show outside Austin. They were opening for The Damn Quails so the night had serious potential for fun and good tunes. I was reluctant to go at first though. I feel sleepy and hanging out with a bunch of rowdy male musicians for a solid 10 hours sounded a bit iffy.

But, I realized that detox isn't just of the body. If I am to really clean up this trailer I am going to need to make sure I'm not boring without the warm, snuggly cloak of inebriety. My only live musical experiences so far involved moderate to severe amounts of liquor and the occasional illegal drug, so much so that when I thought about it I realized that I rarely remember people I meet at shows and sometimes don't even remember the music very clearly. This is sad I've decided. So, I packed up my juice and met them for drinks before getting on the "tour bus."

To hang out with band members, one must be pretty independent. I don't know many of their friends yet and my phone died as soon as we got there. I was definitely on my own. At first I was shy. My inhibitions and insecurities were fully intact. I wondered if booze has really been a crutch for me and that I am as stupid and unoriginal as I believe some boozers to be. This prospect terrified me and I was determined to let the self I have come to know as "my"self enjoy the show and have fun with strangers without a drop of liquid courage, a shred of false bravado, or even another person to guide me.

Finally, I spotted someone with a Nebraska coozie so, much like the times I've found myself alone in cities around the globe, I put on a smile and perused the room making friends along the way. It was incredible. My mind was sharp allowing me to remember nearly everyone's name. I heard every note and remember which songs I have to download today. I stayed out until my usual 3am and slept until 11 but I feel great! Just food for thought...mostly since I'm not eating any other sort of food. Last night was a satisfying morsel.

Smile Therapy

When I taught yoga a million years ago in Boulder I used to do a guided meditation with my students called the Inner Smile. You simply closed your eyes and visualized all your bits smiling. And by "all," I mean it literally, from your brain all the way to your toes, allowing your organs, limbs, every cell to radiate what is typically delegated only to teeth and lips. After about 7 minutes, I would ask them to open their eyes. Without fail, they would all have this strange (almost creepy) smile on and they would slowly lumber out into the world, my guess is to give someone a hug. It was awesome.

Fast forward a few million years in DC where I saw What The Bleep Do We Know!?, a documentary about quantum realities and the interconnectedness of our emotional world and our actual world. 

One of my favorite parts of the documentary was when they showed how words like "love" and "patience" create beautiful ice crystals from water while words like "hate" and "war" create jumbled crystal patterns. (This is research done by Emoto.)  I'm not saying I believe every word. In fact, I'm a natural skeptic. But, pleasantries and blind hope keep me from flinging myself off national landmarks so I try to go with it. This was an interesting concept especially considering humans are 70-80% water. I also liked in the film that she draws smiley faces all over her body with marker. I've always wanted to do it because it reminds me of the Inner Smile meditation. 

The other day I decided to document my smiling patterns, mostly because I realized I hadn't done it much lately. I didn't try to pinpoint why (that's easy...left all my best friends in DC, emotionally vacant relationship with latest boyfriend, a stranger in a new town with little direction, job on the fritz, etc. Nothing especially unique here.) I wanted to conscientiously smile at every single person I saw for a whole day and see what happend, both to me and to them. 

It was a pretty cool day. I got invited places, flirted with, kissed, serenaded, and asked for my phone number, all in about 4 hours time, all by different people. I was certainly on a cloud and I appeared to cheer up everyone in sight. This is an experiment I suggest everyone try right away. I wasn't smiling out of my ear or kidneys but my mouth seemed to suffice.

I'm not sure if smiling can change the universe but it certainly can't hurt. It is infinitely more useful than pouting, scowling, or flipping the bird. So I am on a new mission of smiling, much like that dude in Ally McBeal, even if I don't feel like it. If nothing else, a wise friend of mine told me recently over martinis that "sometimes, girl, you just have to fake it till you make it." Indeed.

Resolutions are for the delusional

Instead of coming up with a list of resolutions that have little hope of becoming fully realized, I have instead come up with a list of things I will NOT do in 2010. Not sure this is any more realistic than a comically optimistic, too-long list of shit I can only wildly dream of doing but it is a new decade, after all. Blind hope is one thing I do have in a world of constant disappointment.

Huh, uh….Things that will not get done in 2010:

1. I will not become fluent in Spanish. My only hope of doing that requires a 6 month sabbatical in Oaxaca and I don’t intend to do that until 2014.

2. I will not eat veal. It’s never been a problem before so why not throw in some low hanging fruit.

3. I will not acquire all my nutrients from Pasta Roni and other processed noodle meals.

4. I will not use Facebook as a supplement for real-life conversation. I will also not use Facebook for revenge/bullying/dating/shopping/blackmail/therapy/meaning in life.

5. I will not be proud that I’m now a Sephora Super-Duper VIP member or whatever they call it. Pride in the amount of money I spend at that store should not ever be celebrated (or even admitted to).

6. I will not make fun of Virginia. This is a tough one, but I have a new incentive to think happy thoughts about the state just to the south. There’s cheese and forehead kisses in it for me and so I shall hold my tongue.

7. I will not just think about responding to emails, texts, VM, and other invitations. I will actually respond to them.

8. I will not stay within my 10 block radius. I say this every year, but this year I’m really going to try to go to such exotic locations as the Botanical Gardens, the Smithsonian, and Baltimore. I also will not use all my vacation time going to Nebraska.

9. I will not worry about turning 30. I’ll just turn it and see what happens.

10. I will not give myself a hard time if I end up doing any of these things. Resolving to make changes in life requires a healthy dose of self-patience and forgiveness.

Stay away from windows and spindles

Mom introduced me to a song by Sara Bareilles that she thought was quite relevant in my life of disastrous romance and consequential bitterness. Basically the song goes through various Disney bombshells and disproves their fairytale loves lives with a realistic dose of cynicism.

Clearly, my life is no fairytale romance. I've had several serious, long-term relationships and, just as they approach a commitment tipping point, I decide they aren't right for me after all and send the shocked and heartbroken boy packing. My rationale is, much like the deceptive love lives of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, I can pretend happiness, keeping my concerns quiet, sometimes for years, even when I know that I could never commit myself by law to men with very clear personality or lifestyle conflicts with me. Why I don't toss them to the wayside immediately has always been a mystery.

More recently, I've also managed to fall hard for a man so completely wrong for me that I fear I shall never outlive the shame of my own compliance with his disrespect. Much like Snow White and her f*@ked up relationship with the dwarves, I was willing to bend over backwards to make it work. Like Ariel, I entertained the thought of giving up my standards of excellence to be with someone who wasn't even housetrained. Like Jasmine, I was fooled by an ill-behaved loser in fancy clothes. This experience has pretty much turned me into a wicked witch, but has also made me wonder how many non-believers I've turned out over my years of corrupt fairytales. I hope not many.

Am I a relationship poser? Or am I just the epitome of a hopeless romantic infused with a little sass? Either way, this Bareilles song has some good advice. First and foremost, there is no float-on-a-cloud love that comes from blind appreciation and unquestioned patience for someone who isn't right for you.

What to do? Fling myself from the nearest castle tower? Impale myself on a spindle? Probably not. Keep kissing frogs? Exhausting! I guess for now I'll just keep my hair trimmed and stay away from windows. I don't want fairytale love anyway. I want genuine, realistic happiness with a little candlelight and a few kisses on the neck mixed in.

Not such an unrealistic happy ending to hope for, in my opinion.