Saturday, September 18, 2010

Seventeen Stringent Requirements

Hollywood's finest example
So many blog topics have crossed my brain this week, many of them bordering on profound. Ah, the untapped potential of the unwritten blog! But as I finally have time to sit here and purge, it's come to down to my favorite guilty pleasure next to chocolate and white wine. You see there's this guy ...

I run the risk of gushing like "13-year-old girl with first crush" in describing how high above the water he walks. It's been a year-and-a half and he continues to be everything I haven't settled for in past relationships. But I must use caution in adding masculine presences into my own personal world — I've been third-degree burned more than once. Yet, thanks to this man — and a couple of really nice guys I dated before him — I know exactly what I want in a significant other. I'll even grant a worthy nod to my less-than-stellar exes for helping me confirm what I don't want. To this end, I present the following in no particular order:

17 Man Musts:

1. He must build me up, not tear me down. Tearing down doesn't necessarily refer to blatant bad behavior like intense physical or verbal abuse, although those things are certainly included. It's more day-to-day little jabs, often disguised in humor, where I am the butt of the joke. Not cool.

2. He must be honest with me. He understands I'm too intelligent to be told white lies to spare my feelings. He knows I need to be able to trust him completely.

3. He must be cool. Not trying to prove to the world that he's cool, but actually cool. And believe it himself.

4. He must be smart. I'm talking way above average intelligence. And although he might be angered by people who profess wisdom without the facts to back themselves up (narrow-mindedness) — he must never make me or anyone else feel they are of inferior intelligence.

5. He's gotta make me laugh. Intelligent humor edges out silliness, but both are welcomed. Ability to laugh at himself is a plus. He laughs with me, not at me.

6. He must be generous. He is a giver, not a taker. He gives generously to charities and puts others above himself, especially those less fortunate.

7. He must be passionate, creative, and inspired on a daily basis. He seeks new experiences to expand his passions. He must have an awesome iTunes library.

8. He must respect me completely and is kind to my friends and family.

9. He speaks well of me to his friends and family. He would never think to put me down.

10. He must be handsome and know he's attractive without being conceited. He takes good care of his mind and body without compulsion. As gorgeous as he is, he makes me feel I'm the pretty one in the relationship.

11. He lets me express my need for him without making me feel I'm needy.

12. He supports my plight and listens when I need to vent. He is always on my side, and seizes opportunities to assist when I'm in need.

13. He lets me know he appreciates the little things I do for him.

14. He is not afraid to admit his fears and insecurities. He trusts me enough to share them with me on a deeper level.

15. He works to maintain his friendships and is always there for his family.

16. He seeks ways to get closer to his God and make sense of his place in the world.

17. Like my own father, he must be a beautiful man. I don't really know how to describe this, but I know it when I see it.


Come to think of it, I've always possessed an internal man list similar to this one. But because of what really amounts to my own insecurities, I've settled for way less than the above ideal, hoping the man in my life would just somehow "evolve" into the man of my dreams. No, no one is perfect, but after 46 years of making the same mistake, I'm here to tell you: stick to your list. Add to it if you must. And if someone steps up to the plate lacking an item or two, don't let him play. You're better off solo. Life is too short to be with a guy who makes you curl up into a ball and cry on the bathroom floor.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Weighing in at Marshall's

Thanks to my good friend denial I'm relatively sane most of the time. Stupidly happy really works for me. But in my quest for all things positive, I've also been guilty of failing to deal with some significant, somber truths in my world. Major case in point: pretending my marriage of 15 years was great, when in actually, it was crumbling from the start. But I digress in the first paragraph.

Ever since I can remember I've been under the assumption I can take pretty much anything I like off the rack in a department store and it will look good on me. I'm far from athletic, but I have been blessed with a little height and good metabolism, and I exercise damn near daily. No big deal if I gain a pound or ten.  And I prefer shopping in the juniors department — everyone knows clothes are cuter and trendier there.

That's how it's always been. That is, until last week. After a three-month bender of more than a single glass of wine after work; ample supplies of chips, mashed potatoes, cookies, truffles after dinner, chocolate in desk drawer, dinners out — not to mention my new love affair with exotic cheeses — I felt  (in search of a better descriptive term) FAT.

I was school clothes shopping with my extremely cute and skinny 14-year-old daughter, who can pretty much wear a pencil cozy and look adorable in it. We decided to split up at the store — each of us finding clothes for ourselves. But I may as well have wandered over to the camping aisle to find a family-sized tent —every garment in the store was clearly designed to outfit the cast of "America's Top Model." Visions of futile attempts to squeeze into skinny jeans and spaghetti arms bulging from tight t-shirts were just too much for me to take this day. Where was reliable denial when I needed her? The time had come to face facts: I'm 46, and should now dress appropriately for my age — and girth.

I switched gears. Gave up on finding clothes for myself and started on a mad quest for things that would look stunning on my daughter. Size 3 jeans, fitted tank tops, short shorts — no worries. It was liberating, really. That's when I made the crossover. Saturday, August 21 ... at Marshall's.

Later that day we went to a mall. (The girl didn't see a thing she liked at Marshall's.)  We ended up at one of those sparsely-lit stores with loud, thumping rap music and black walls. They spotlight the clothes who are screaming, "see me,  buy me." Awesome marketing strategy that works like a charm as evidenced by the long lines at the dressing rooms and cash register. My every instinct told me to get out of there (I really hate loud, thumping rap music!), until one of my great joys in life — people-watching — kicked in. Moms and daughters. Or should I say, fat moms and skinny daughters. Fat moms frantically toiling in their desperate attempts to find just the right outfits for their pencil-thin offspring. Servicing their girls in the dressing rooms. Waiting in line. Paying. Oh God, I'd become one of them — about an hour earlier at a store called Marshall's.

"What size am I?" she says holding a pair of jeans at the black store. "I think you're now a size 5," I say. I wait for her to try them on like the fat, patient mom I am. (In this store I'd be a size 305!) She comes out and says, "They didn't fit." "Really? The size 5?" I say. "No, I tried on a 3." ... The cycle of denial continues ...

Friday, September 3, 2010

eighties greaties

So glad I rediscovered this. For a time just after high school, this one was heavy on my playlist. Randomly concise lyrics, no accompaniment needed. And what a voice! Sweet, simple, haunting. I love that MTV considered it hip enough to include it on regular rotation. They also put out a boombox music mix of Tom's Diner, which I gotta admit was cool, but nothing can compare to the bare-bones original. Sublime.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z66rDVkaK4w

Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega

Friday, August 27, 2010

eighties greaties

Love the movie love the song. Even owned the cassette tape version of the soundtrack. Huge, huge crush on Andrew McCarthy! Twenty-four years later I offer my best advice for high school girls in Andie's situation: GO WITH DUCKIE! 


P.S. James Spader plays the most excellent sleazy rich boy preppie!











Friday, August 20, 2010

eighties greaties

Shamelelss plug for the concert the kids & I are gonna see tonight. Trekking up to Santa Cruz to see 80s alt band They Might be Giants at the Rio Theater. This band reached its peak a little after my early 80s musical glory days — but are nevertheless very much vintage 80s. The best part, my son's really into them. Sure, the bulk of their audience sports thick rimmed glasses and pocket protectors and the songs are just plain silly. But listen to the lyrics. Deep poetic content here. Ahead of their time? Major understatement. 


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEjutUbgpH8


"I don't want the world, I just want your half"

Sunday, August 15, 2010

dad's letter





My American dad and German mother met in 1957 on a Europe-bound cruise ship. When dad arrived in Germany with his California buddies, he visited her, and they wrote letters back and forth for two years before she came to the States and they were married. Dad passed away five years ago this week, and my mother is now remarried and very happy. But I am lucky enough to have received all of those glorious letters. If my home were on fire and I was only able to grab a few items, these letters would be among them, for without them I wouldn't be. I hold on to them as proof positive of my parent's love for each other. Their relationship turned out to be rocky to say the least, but they remained married until dad died. What kept it together? Lord only knows. Maybe deep down they both believed in fairy tales, at least their own. You'd think after my divorce and a couple of failed relationships I'd put that kind of nonsense aside. But like my dreamer-of-a-father, I still believe. Here's his letter to my mother's parents dated August 20, 1959, where he asks for their blessing. I love it. I love my dad. And I miss him dearly...

Dear Capt. and Mrs. Jeschonnek,

This will no doubt be one of the most difficult letters that I will ever have to write, although everything I want to say is very clear and organized within me. I hope you will bear with me while I stumble through it on paper.

Let me begin by thanking both of you for making it possible for Inge's and my dream of two years to come true this summer. Every minute of her stay was very much worthwhile. As you know, it turned out to be a story that one finds only in fairy tales.

Nevertheless we found ourselves very clearly in love and positive that our "fairy tale" is genuine. We both feel that it always will be.

As you may realize, for the past two years I have been in love with Inge's image — which has represented a sort of refuge from everything unhappy and unpleasant to me. I  was overwhelmed when she stepped of the plane as the girl I thought she would eventually develop into, not already be. It wasn't long after that we began talking about going through life together.  Believe me, we talked very seriously and objectively, although there were several times when we wanted to believe in only the moment.

I must admit, however, that one of my biggest weaknesses is that often I'm inclined to let my emotions and emotional desires run away from my intellect. But I feel that because I was obsessed with the importance of such a huge step, I was able to stop, think, and control my emotions.  I often thought that love alone could provide fuel for a while — but more realistically, our future security will depend on the foundations I am building now. Since it is solely up to me to establish a financial and material future, I don't think it would be wise to waste the first of our most productive and progressive years toward our eventual goals, on an extended honeymoon.

Although in two years I still won't have financial security, I feel that this won't depend on money as much as being in a position to bargain for it. Today in America this position can only be attained by having a college degree.

This is the basic reason for our decision to wait until we both finish  our education, although there are others as well. I feel that I owe it to Inge, both you and my parents, as well as myself. My parents think that it is best we wait and I'm confident you will agree — if you approve at all. I realize that it isn't fair to ask for your sanction as you don't even know me, let alone my parents. I would, though, like to know your reaction, thoughts and opinions.

After talking the situation over with Inge and my parents, we decided to have the wedding in Europe— France or Germany. This would be the only fair and proper way, where you would have an opportunity to judge me and my family for yourself. My parents said that they would do everything they could to make the trip. Don't you agree that this is best?

This letter must sound to you like I'm trying to "railroad" something through (another reason for waiting), but it's only because I love Inge so very much. I often wonder why I had to go to the other side of the world to find my heart. I realize that this does and will create many problems. But still the fact remains that we are honestly in love and there could never be anybody else.

I hope that I haven't confused you as to my actual feelings with my plebeian ways of expressing myself. I've never been in a situation such as this before and I want to do what is right for everybody concerned. Could both of you give me your feelings and advice?

Thank you mille fois for everything.

Very sincerely,
Tim



Friday, August 13, 2010

eighties greaties

It's Friday — time for a whirl back to yesteryear. I've spent more than an acceptable amount of time this week perusing youtube for my next selection from the new wave treasure trove. Ended up with this one. Think of it as a tribute to the end of Summer '10. (Where did those 3 months go?) Corny? Hell, yes! Also concrete evidence that it was once cool to wear cropped overalls (extra cool = one strap open), baggy pleated pants, bobby socks w/loafers, and permed bleached hair wrapped in a scarf. Gag me with a spoon!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPNhV1gF008