Sunday, March 30, 2008

Time On My Hands

For the record, it is very hard to think (much less write) about anything but dating right now, since my brain is consumed by the current deliciousness. Thank you blog for the opportunity to remember the other sides of myself that I've worked so hard to cultivate for at least a moment...

Life has actually been good. Although, a little romance tends to make just about anything rosier. We just had Spring Break. The kids at school all asked, "Where are you going?" Because we are all headed to some exotic tropical location, of course [yes, that is a hint of bitterness that you detect]. I answered, "To my couch." And pretty happily, actually.

My usual plan of attack for any open expanse of time is to dive onto the couch and indulge in the luxury of doing nothing. And "nothing" inevitably means television. But the TV binge usually ends up feeling like a hot dog does for me; a fun idea at the time, but empty and regrettable. I was determined not to feel like I had wasted this gift of time. It took me a while to figure out what I needed to for that to happen. Turns out shopping isn't entirely the answer (though I gave it a good shot). I realized that the first flash of intuition is usually the answer... I needed a project. Like the vacation when I locked myself in a garage with some power tools and came out with a bookshelf.

So I decided to finally make a skirt out of some vintage fabric I have been holding on to. I am lucky enough to have a finished room in my basement, and I have done my best to make it conducive to creative endeavors. Great color and inspiration on the walls. Convenient and attractive storage for lots of supplies. A big fold-out table to spread out on. But I can never actually get myself to use it. It's cold. Kind of dark. I'd rather lug everything upstairs for the slight distraction of the TV... Just more shades of resistance and perfectionism, of course. And a reluctance to be entirely alone with myself.

But I had a breakthrough. Did you know I have a whole room in my house just for creating things?!
Somehow I was ready to quit making excuses. I turned on the lights, turned up the heat, and put on some music. And got lost (or perhaps found) in the work.

The cats loved it, too. They even tried to help - if you can call lying on top of whatever I am trying to work on "helping".

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Love Me, Love My Blog?

I've discovered a new, uniquely 21st Century, dating dilemma. We have always had to decide when to introduce a new man to friends, family, unattractive personal attributes, deep dark secrets, etc. Now, I am wondering how you decide when to tell them about your blog. I'm all for full disclosure, but I'm a little afraid there is such thing as too much disclosure all at once. And there are many things I'd rather share naturally and in person than via technology.

Out of respect for the party who doesn't yet know they are being discussed and a desire to keep some things just for myself, I will suspend the practice of sharing specific dating details until a more appropriate time. Sorry.

But first, let me just say that (in my opinion) we had a lovely first date. Long, luxurious, meandering. Fun. No need for any contrived tests - especially after we discussed at length a mutual love of bacon (and loathing of raisins!) and spit off the Aurora bridge together. The best test that I forgot about: I thoroughly enjoyed not only his presence, but the parts of myself brought out in his presence. And awareness of possibility for the person I am still becoming.

Yes, there are plans for a second date.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Test the First Date

So it looks like I have to/get to go on another first date - often the most anxiety inducing activity I can imagine short of public speaking in my underwear. But after a good long chat on the phone, I'm actually looking forward to this one.

In my house growing up we joked about "boyfriend tests." These included seeing what he did when the dog inevitably jumped in his lap (it should be something affectionate towards the dog) and if he would stop to look for a lost contact lens. Unfortunately, I never wore contacts, but I think one of my sister's boyfriends got extra credit for searching the bottom of a canoe.
Since then, I have discovered a few things that can start to answer the compatibility question right off the bat...
  1. (Of course.) How does he react to a high five or other genuine expressions of playful exuberance? Or better yet, does he happen to high five me first?!
  2. Does he stop to pet dogs on the street? An incarnation of the old dog-in-lap test. Quadruple points for that guy who taught his dog to high five.
  3. Does he notice the color of my eyes? I borrowed this one from my best friend in high school who actually had two different color eyes. Mine are an interesting hazel. And conversely, did I notice the color of his eyes? I can tell I really like someone when I catch myself drinking in their eyes.
  4. Am I surprised when I look at the time? It better have inexplicably skipped ahead.
  5. And perhaps after a few dates, has he noticed my favorite color? I have a noticeable propensity for purple which you'd have to be blind not to catch on to after a while. (In the interest of equal opportunity, I would, of course, be happy to amend this one for the visually impaired.)
  6. NEW this year: Does he know what NPR is? He doesn't have to listen to it, but he needs to have at least heard of it. Seriously. (Longer story for another time, but I have to say even my seventh graders agreed with me on that one.)
Disclaimer: These methods have not been scientifically tested and may not have any direct corelation to compatibility. Really, if I just find myself rooting for the guy it's a good sign, and we may very well just write it off as a pass.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Too Nice

I received the first open complaint about my coaching... apparently I am "too nice". In the grand scheme of complaints, that's not so bad. But it still stung. Especially because it came from two girls I appreciate and respect. And they told someone else, not me. (And I'm already dancing on the edge of neurotic at the possibility going on a date with the Trader Joe's guy. More on that later...)

I'm just not so good at receiving criticism. My first instinct is to tear up and feel like I'm failing because I'm not perfect. I stayed there for a while. And might go back in a minute.

Then I point out all the reasons why they are wrong (to myself or sympathetic ears only, of course). I'm insulted that people don't see the complexity of what I try to accomplish. I'm not a pushover; I'm not trying to be their friend. I have good boundaries. I expect them to work hard and pay attention. I just know the value of facilitating an open group process, so I am not an authoritarian. And I'm not willing to sacrifice any of the girls' feelings about themselves in the pursuit of a win. The bottom line is that I'm there to have fun, so I'm going to create fun. I quess it's been so much fun for me that I forgot about my own learning and growth here - which rarely happen painlessly.

I'm not sure where to look for guidance. The other coaches around me seem to have no problem being relatively insensitive - the kids all want to win, don't they? Tell them what they are doing wrong (along with praise for what they are doing right, hopefully). And play the best players without feeling bad for the people left on the bench. Can I be authentic and sensitive and still win? I think it's possible I could be tougher. Not everyone is the sensitive and perfectionist little girl that I was.

It's a balance I haven't completely found yet, even if I thought I had. Great. If only growth didn't hurt in the process.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Craigslist Gives Out Second Chances

BREAKING NEWS: the Trader Joe's guy answered the ad! No joke. What are the chances?! I'm mean, really. My response to his response? Joy, delight, faith in magic and possibility... then, "Holy [explative], now what do I do?" It feels like a lot of cosmic pressure, and suddenly I'm not so brave all over again. Stay tuned.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Cracking Under Pressure (aka Why I'm Still Single)

This evening I was in the checkout line at Trader Joe's, trying to decide if I should make friendly conversation with the checkout guy or just remain aloof since I was tired and disappointed that we lost our volleyball game... when a voice asked if I had tried the green tea mochi ice cream (a box of chocolate mochi ice cream was on the top of my grocery pile). I looked up to see a tall guy with square glasses, and I pointed out the two boxes of green tea hidden beneath the chocolate. I told the (hopefully semi-charming) story about my anti-corporate aunt in NYC who disapproves of Trader Joe's but tried those particular tasty treats when she was visiting me and now drives to New Jersey to buy them herself. Mid-story, I realized how cute he was, saw how much he was smiling, noticed his bare left hand, and decided that there was a good chance he wasn't just being friendly merely for the love of groceries.

My brilliant response? Get completely self-conscious and clam up. Why?! I thought my seasoned dating self had learned how to do this. Keep the conversation going. Ask a question or two. See where it goes. If something is there, an interest or place that could be an excuse for second meeting will usually come up. Or just ask them out. Risk a little! But in this moment the checker and the people in line are watching, I am momentarily paralyzed by the fear of actually getting something I want... and I'm pretty sure I'm turning bright red. So I said goodbye (at least I managed that much) and walked out.

Spotting him walk down the street as I drove away, I was half filled with the excitement of an attraction-charged encounter and half infuriated with my own stupidity. I circled around, fully prepared to roll down the window and ask if we had indeed been flirting, but alas, he was gone.

In an attempt to reclaim some power over my cowardice, I posted a Craigslist missed connection. Just in case. (It's a strange forum I can't quite figure out. But a couple on Oprah met on an airplane and didn't exchange info, but then reconnected via Craigslist. Then he proposed there, as well. So it could work, right?!) Apparently, I am much better at being vulnerable behind the safety of a computer.

Just when I think I could be ready to fall in love again, the evidence shows me running away at the slightest hint of possibility. Perhaps something(s) else must unfold inside me first. If only I had a clue what it was.

Completely tangentially: Oprah's Craigslist couple? Stark contrast to the cute California preppy/surfer guy (I thought) who I met on a plane back from Florida last year who I did exchange info with - who later emailed me interested in my medieval sword fighting reenactment experience?! Not that I'm against all that; I'm just not into it. And I'm not so into guys who I'm not memorable for. Maybe it's OK if some connections stay missed.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Reasons Not to Do Acrobatics in Your Office

...unless you are an actual acrobat, I suppose. But even then, you probably don't rehearse in an office...

I have a wonderful student who comes to eat lunch with me every other week. We spend some quality time together, and I try to exercise my half of a counseling degree (don't worry, she's only allowed to tell me half her problems). This particular young lady happens to be passionate about gymnastics, so our conversation often goes in that direction. Somehow, our joint enthusiasm about handstands led to a knowingly unwise decision to demonstrate my favorite handstand technique. Unfortunately it has been months since I practiced them on a regular basis. And yes, I fell in a pile on the hardwood floor of my office. So now I have a grumpy left shoulder and an angry hand that won't be able to set at volleyball practice. OW!

A little pain I can deal with, especially after seeing old family friends who just wrote a book about living with Cystic Fybrosis. Although it is amazing how humbling even a small injury is for me, and it always reminds me how much I take for granted.

The real problem is living with the repeated task of explaining my poor judgment. (People have asked about the involuntary groaning.) If only I didn't feel the need to maintain that pesky integrity, I would come up with a cause of injury far more appropriate in a professional environment. Or at least something more glamorous.

But I'm told that I provided a wonderful model of vulnerability and imperfection to my young friend. Well, you know - I try.

Note: Adjacent photo is my attempt to prove that I have indeed been capable of such acrobatics in the recent past. I swear.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Losing it over cheese (and believing in God for a few minutes)

I was sick all last week - feeling so bad that I even temporarily lost the will to blog [gasp]. Along with feeling physically down, it gets frustrating to be vulnerable and emotionally complicated to call in sick. I feel guilty, worry they'll think I'm lazy and faking it, wonder if I really should just suck it up and deal with it, worry people would be mad that I was spreading my germs if I went in... that internal battle in itself is exhausting.

And then making my way back into the land of the living was difficult. My group was in charge of providing snack for the weekly staff meeting. As we all volunteered our ideas via group email, I volunteered to get bottles of water and sparkly water from Costco since I had to go way up north anyway. But then someone suggested that I get cheese along with the water. I'm not sure how it happened, but for some reason the idea of having to track down cheese nearly put me over the edge. Maybe it was just that it wasn't my idea, and I wasn't feeling like I had the internal resources to do anything that wasn't on my own terms. People tried to tell me I could get cheese at Costco, but I was picturing only the mega-loaf. I didn't think we wanted that kind of cheese or that kind of investment in cheese. Someone tried to continue the conversation with me at lunch, and I had to leave the room before I started crying.

Part of me could see that this would probably be a temporary feeling, since I am usually pretty agreeable doing whatever needs to get done to in this kind of group situation. But I couldn't mentally adjust no matter what I did. So I told them I couldn't handle it. And somebody kind of let me off the hook, so I felt a little better.

I made my way to Costco, and I saw that there are tons of cheese choices. And I felt momentarily generous enough to buy a lovely little party platter. I felt good leaving the store, having gotten that and several other things taken care of. As I was loading my car, I wedged my clutch/wallet in the front of the cart for safekeeping, despite
very clearly thinking, "That's dangerous; I could totally see myself forgetting that there." And of course I did.

I realized this as I pulled up to my next stop ten minutes later. I dropped everything and zoomed back up Hwy 99 PRAYING that it would still be there. I solidly belive in greater spiritual order and meaning in the universe, but I usually shy away from the Christian labels I grew up with. It's amazing how in the moments of desperation, I go back to my roots and the big "G".

Luckily, it was right where I left it! Maybe there is a God. I took it as a sign that I should pull into PaperZone as I passed it for the second time for some fabulous scrapbooking/collage paper. I often find my higher power in creativity these days.