Learn Your Lesson, Lest You're Too Late

Last week was a long one. By the time the weekend rolled around, I was both physically and mentally exhausted and more than ready to decompress.

On Saturday, I joined some friends for a dim sum excursion in Flushing (quite an adventure for a person who eats as plainly as I do) and spent the afternoon in what could only be described as a dim sum coma. In other words, I happily camped out on the couch and pretty much didn't move for the rest of the day. The worst part was that I didn't even feel slightly guilty about it.

I began working my way through my DVR - I watched last week's Glee episode (which will totally make you cry), last week's Gossip Girl (which makes Chuck Bass look like a good guy, once again) and another episode of Gone too Far, featuring a really scary alcoholic girl from Middleofnowhere, Texas. Upon running out of television shows, I moved to movies. I watched The Departed (or more accurately, watched Matt Damon ... the plot was secondary). My next selection was White Oleander.

I read "White Oleander" a number of years ago and to be honest, I barely remembered it when I started watching the movie. The plot is rather dark and kind of sad; to sum it up thematically, it's primarily about abandonment. But there was a quote in the movie which stood out - "Don't attach yourself to anyone who shows you the least bit of attention because you're lonely. Loneliness is the human condition. No one is ever going to fill that space. The best you can do is know yourself ... know what you want."

And that moment, in an otherwise wasted day on the couch provided me with clarity. It reminded me of something that I already knew but often forget.

We all know better. We just try to talk ourselves out of reason. Simply because we can.

And by the next day, it didn't matter if it made sense. I no longer cared why or why not. I just knew that it didn't matter anymore. And that was just fine.

"Go on and it won't be too soon
You're gone, you're gone, are you waiting for somethin?
Go on cause I won't be back soon "
- "So Long"
Guster

The Other Side of the Coin

I often have an idea for a blog post bouncing around in my head for a few days before I get the chance to write it. If a particularly good idea or sentiment comes to mind, I'll jot notes on my BlackBerry. Rarely have I started out thinking about one thing and then by the time I penned it, been given enough reason to completely disagree with it.

Try to follow this one ...

I have a tendency to think about my life in cycles. In other words, when Halloween rolls around, I reflect upon where I was on that day a year ago. When the weather gets cold, I start thinking about my life in winters past. Yesterday, I was talking with two of my friends about people I had dated in the past year. When I look back on relationships, I am guilty of falling victim to the Pollyanna Syndrome - remembering positive things more readily than negative things.

I thought about how I enjoyed spending winter nights eating takeout sushi on the couch with him. I remembered watching an all-night marathon of "Rob & Big" on MTV and of going to get bagels for breakfast the next day. I smiled thinking about how he would text me "good morning" and "sweet dreams." For a moment, I felt sad - that I was really missing being in that place.

Then the other day, I remembered arguing with him on Thanksgiving Day. I remember being on vacation and wondering where we stood, since he left it open-ended before I left for my trip. I remember sitting next to him, more than once, without a thing to say, because I just didn't think he cared.

On paper, he was everything I was looking for. I'm not going to lie - I can still take out the mental checklist and realize that finding that combination isn't easy. But then you remember a checklist isn't everything - a person isn't a checklist and a good relationship can't be created from a list of options.

This morning. I started thinking about the other side of that coin. In other words, people I have dated who I reference negatively. I thought in particular about an ex from a few years ago who was always kind to me, cared about me and for that period of time, made me happy. Yet whenever I look back at that time in my life, I see only negatives. I see someone who didn't fit any of the options on my checklist and I wonder why I thought it would fit.

To put it in cliche terms - square peg. Round hole.

I remembered this morning what used to make me smile about him. I thought again that maybe, a person can't be judged against a list of options.

One instant message conversation changed my mind.

I remembered why we set certain standards for what we need in a person. While not everything comes down to education-family-job, there is a reason you seek out a "type." And most importantly, there is a reason that some people, while not wrong for someone else, will never be right for you.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

In my last apartment, where I lived for two years, I could not control the temperature. It was reminiscent of dorm life, except it was significantly more costly, I didn't have a white board on my door and I didn't have 25 types of cereal at my disposal. I swore up and down that once I could spend my night somewhere that wasn't either 54 or 96 degrees that I would be content.

I stumbled upon the proverbial pot of gold when I found my current apartment on Craigslist. For once in my life, I can say the downturn of the economy benefited me, as the apartment would have been out of my price range a few months prior. Due to my previous living situation, I was ready to sign the lease once I saw that the apartment had a thermostat. Central air and heat? Unheard of in New York. In addition, the apartment has brand-new stainless steel appliances (including a dishwasher!), a washer and dryer and a Jacuzzi tub.

I've been pretty damn happy.

When I lived in Long Beach, parking could be somewhat torturous during the summer. After all, I lived across the street from the beach. And the beach I lived across from was not just any beach, but the one that the 1,000+ participant volleyball league took place at four days per week between Memorial Day and Labor Day. If you got home after 7, you would be (at best) relegated to a sand lot where you would be ticketed if you forgot to move your car by midnight. I also got my car stuck in the sand once or twice. The good part about Long Beach was, if you didn't move your car, you could keep that spot forever. This is not the case in Queens.

When searching for the perfect image for this post, I stumbled upon one on the same topic, as this person so cleverly calls it, "the alternate side parking shuffle." I will continue to borrow from this person's post, as her description hits the nail right on the head - "The shuffle is a daily event that spans about an hour and half on streets all across the city. The idea is that cars vacate one side of the street, allowing the street cleaner to come through. It’s also a municipal money making machine. Every person I know who has a car gets more than a handful of street-cleaning tickets a year."

I will start by saying that I am devoted to never getting a $40+ ticket for having my car on the wrong side of the street. I have post-it notes that I alternate on the inside of my door that read "move car at night" and "move car in morning." I use my BlackBerry to remind myself *exactly* where my car is and when it has to be moved, just in case I forget. After two months, I was starting to think that I had the system figured out. In other words: moving your car at night is usually easier than moving your car in the morning. Avoid streets that have many driveways. As I said, I felt like I was beginning to master the system.

Then last night happened.

It took 35 minutes to find a parking spot. My car might as well be parked in Beijing.

While hiking back from my parking spot, I passed one of the many deli-bodega-corner stores in my neighborhood and invested a dollar in the lottery. Tonight, I will win Mega Millions and the first thing I will buy is a parking spot. Because that, is all it will take for me to be happy now.

Freedom Isn't Free

In July of 2003, 27-year-old Lt. Pete Ober died in a helicopter crash, proudly serving in the United States Navy. Since the war began, 4,332 American soldiers have been mortally wounded in Iraq. Pfc. Matthew E. Baylis was killed just days before his 21st birthday in Baghdad, supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom, in May of 2007. Between July 25 and August 7, 2009, nine U.S. Army soldiers, five Marines and one U.S. Navy sailor were killed in Afghanistan. One of them was 29-year-old Capt. Matthew Freeman - he had been married just weeks before he deployed.

All three of these men dreamed their entire lives of serving their country and made the ultimate sacrifice by giving their lives for our freedom. All three of these soldiers were sons and brothers; two were husbands of my close friends and one was the proud father of a little girl.

I am so proud of the brave men and women who serve our country, yet I ache for the mothers, fathers, husbands, wives and children who have to say goodbye to their loved ones. I admire their selflessness - I could not imagine how hard it is to let someone go, knowing he is putting himself directly in harm's way.

I am at a loss as to how to convey my emotions in this post - I have so much pride and gratitute for those who are giving up everything to serve in the military. Yet I feel so much pain knowing that these families (and the entire world) have lost some of the finest people who will ever walk this Earth.

During Matt's memorial service, one eulogizer rightly said, "The world needs more Matthew Freemans."

And the world does. It needs more Matthew Freemans, more Pete Obers and more Matt Baylises.

Please remember our honorable servicemen and women - and their families, who are braver than we could ever imagine.

Freedom isn't free.

If you have the ability to make a contribution in their memory and honor:

Pete Ober:

Peter Benjamin Ober Memorial Fund

c/o Citadel Foundation

171 Moultrie Street

Charleston, South Carolina 29401

Matt Baylis:

Contributions in his memory to Wounded Warriors (http://www.woundedwarriors.org/), AER (http://www.aerhg.org/) or USO (http://www.uso.org/) are appreciated.

Matt Freeman:

Captain Matthew Freeman Memorial Scholarship

Bryan Bank

PO Box 1299

Richmond Hill, GA 31324

great expectations

Tom: What happens when you fall in love?
Summer: You believe in that?
Tom: It's love, it's not Santa Claus.
- "500 Days of Summer"

For someone who doesn't often see movies while they are actually in the theater, it is out of the ordinary for me to have seen three movies in roughly three weeks. On Saturday I saw one of the best movies I have seen in a long time - "500 Days of Summer."

The movie begins with some dialogue explaining that, yes, this is a story of boy meets girl, but there is one thing it is not.

And that is a love story.

This is where I beg to differ.

It is, indeed, a love story. But it's not the kind of love story that you usually see in the movies. It wasn't predictable - it made me happy; it made me sad. I felt optimistic and remembered exactly what feels great about being in love. I felt frustrated when I remembered what it feels like to lose that.

Here's your plot - Tom is the guy that every girl wants to meet (or so I think). He is creative, artistic, listens to Brit-pop and wants to find his soulmate. On a chance encounter in his office, he meets Summer, who he immediately falls in love with. Summer insists that she doesn't believe in love, doesn't believe in relationships - they're messy and she hates labels. As the story progresses, you see what looks to be a happy couple, from one side. From the other side, you see what really exists - a person who is too afraid to commit because she can't acknowledge that she's not truly happy. Instead, she hides behind excuses.

I don't want to give away the movie, which is what makes writing this particular post so difficult. The happy moments that Tom and Summer share in the movie remind me of what I am looking for ... or at least what I hope is out there. The sad moments remind me that, well, people can and will break your heart.

But in the end, it's all worth it, isn't it?

Prioritizing

"Action expresses priorities."
- Mohandas Gandhi

I started spending time with someone who I often have thought-provoking conversations with - the kind of discussions that force you to really understand exactly why you believe what you do. While we have generically discussed many of the topics that you're supposed to avoid while getting to know someone (religion, the concept of marriage and fidelity, kids and families), one of our recent conversations struck a chord with me - while it was initially about relationships, it brought to light ideas about priorities in life.

My stance was that while it is important to have your own set of priorities and to respect the other person's priorities, there is a distinct difference between putting someone second as opposed to fifth or eighth. Here goes nothing - each and every minute of our lives is a competition for what's most important. Hence, prioritizing is something we do 24-7, whether we acknowledge it as such or not.

You know that (for most people), you are going to work five days a week. For most of us, that schedule isn't clearly defined as 9-6, Monday through Friday. We're going to find ourselves at our computers certain late nights, on our BlackBerries Sunday mornings and on conference calls with other countries on holidays. Many of us travel for work and sometimes don't know what that schedule is until a day before. Some people don't work the traditional weekday/day schedule - my ex was a police officer who worked 12-hour night shifts. Eventually, I adjusted to random phone calls at 3 a.m. when his night was slow and that first night he was off when he was barely awake.

Aside from work, we try to balance a litany of responsibilities and activities in a week's worth of time. Whether it is time with our family, going to the gym, catching up with a friend for drinks or enjoying downtime with a book or the DVR, it never seems like there are truly 168 hours in a week. So where does dating, and eventually, being married (and even more eventually, having a family) fit into all of this?

It all comes down to priorities.

In the midst of this conversation, he posed an interesting question - is it selfish to put your job first?

At the time, I responded with what I said earlier. Everyone has a responsibility to his/her career, especially at a time like this when we are all grateful to be employed. The hope is that also many of us are doing work that we find rewarding (whether for financial or other reasons). I felt that beyond that, if you really want to be with someone, you (consciously or subconsciously) shift your remaining priorities. Once again, there is a difference between knowing that you're on the higher end of someone's list, rather than the lower end.

I started thinking about this conversation again this morning - do New Yorkers put too much emphasis on careers? Are we so embedded in the workaholic/competitive/24-7 mindset that we forgot that work shouldn't always come first?

I still have yet to come up with an answer that I am 100% sure about. Much like everything else, it seems to be shades of gray. Can you have a functional relationship/marriage/family if you are someone who always puts work first, or do priorities have to change as your life evolves?

Whatever (Folk Song in C)

"They come here alone and they leave in twos
Except for you and me who just came to use
If you're all done like you said you'd be
What are you doing hanging out with me

Why you tell me stuff that's so plainly untrue
If you'll be straight with me, I'll be straighter with you
If you're all done like you said you'd be
What are you doing hanging out with me

I've been wanting to do anything for a long time
But whatever you got right now will probably suit me fine
If you're all done like you said you'd be
What are you doing hanging out with me"
- "Whatever (Folk Song in C)"
Eliott Smith

For someone who is as much of an idealist as I am, I surprisingly gravitate towards things that are gritty and real. I enjoy watching "Intervention," because half the time it feels good to root for someone who deserves a second chance at life and the other half, you are reminded how messed up and truly selfish people can be. I mostly read memoirs - the stranger your story, the more epic your struggle, the more likely I am to be compelled.

I've always enjoyed music that lands on the darker end of the spectrum. I am amazed by what songwriters can convey in lyrics, be it love, lost love or emotional pain. I constantly try to interpret songs to figure out what that person was thinking when s/he penned the lyrics to a song.

The song above is by Elliott Smith, who wrote a litany of dark and depressing (yet hauntingly beautiful) songs. Aside from the song posted above, another favorite of mine by him is "Say Yes." His songs are raw, emotional, honest, and in most cases, painful. I was looking online for an interpretation of "Whatever," when I stumbled upon this blog.

I'm not sure why it resonated with me. As the writer said, "To me, the songs were dark but beautiful, haunting yet comforting, stark and lush at the same time." I couldn't agree more. But she was given the opportunity to find out why, to dig deeper. And to learn that sometimes, understanding someone's pain can take away the beauty. Make it too hard to listen to it and less beautiful.

The ending of this blog says it simply - "They say you should never meet your idols. Nor should you get too intimate with their demons. Today, I can’t separate the songs from the story. Each one is a reminder of how cruel life can be -- allowing someone like him, someone with that much talent and heart, to suffer through so much pain for so long."

Rest in peace, Elliott Smith, and all the poets who suffer from pain for which there is no fix.