Since the last post was originally started, about two weeks ago, I've gone to the first of the Good Male Friend Weddings of 2007. Dave's will be the second. And another bachelor party yesterday for Jason, whose will be the third, completing the trifecta. These weddings are having a profoundly negative effect on my checking account balance. Anyway, that's not really the point of tonight's post. Tonight's post is about something completely different.
Pleased To Meet You
Since tonight was such a perfect night, I decided I'd take a walk outside. It was a good idea. I drove into Uptown Minneapolis, parked the car, and started moving north up Hennepin Avenue. Having gone most of the day without eating, I decided a quick casual dinner was probably in order, so I ended up at Chipotle and grabbed a burrito, which I sat outside to eat. While I was sitting there, a couple of girls came and sat down at a table about 20 feet from mine, and I noticed that the one facing me was a particularly striking young lady, and that sent my mind spinning on a tangent.
I've noticed that I can go Uptown (or just about anywhere else) just about any night of the week and I'll probably see at least one attractive woman who is probably the very type of girl I'd date. Unfortunately, I've also noticed that over the last couple of years, I've actually met fewer and fewer of these women, and that's probably starting to taint the way I look at things. It seems that now when I see someone who looks really nice, I find myself wanting her to come up to me and start a conversation. Like that's ever going to happen. And I also find myself wanting her to be the one perfect person who keeps me from ever getting preoccupied about this sort of thing again, something that would be a lot less likely if things worked out. Unfortunately, I'll never be more aggressive about dating or talking to strangers and I don't want to lower my standards either, but I'm not likely to meet that type of woman at a bar while I'm out playing, so that doesn't leave me with a ton of options should I ever find myself really wanting a date.
Sometimes I wonder why I even complain about this sort of thing, given the fact that I don't really have time to date anyone in the first place. And it all seems even sillier considering how I have a lot of ideas of different things I'd do with someone in a dating situation, but most of them revolve around sitting around somewhere, talking. These days I'm starting to think the less I talk, the better I'll do. I'm losing a little faith in my ability to interest people, although I've seen evidence go both ways on that one now.
Perhaps I should just stop thinking about it and see what happens. Admittedly, there will be a Missed Connection going up on Craigslist. This isn't my MO, but how often do I spot an attractive woman in Uptown who I'd like to meet? Isn't that what all of these posts are? I sure think so.
6.09.2007
5.29.2007
Powercrocodile
Here's To Turning Over A New Leaf
What feels worse than turning a life corner unexpectedly? Not much, if you ask me. Late teens and early twenties tend to be a bit turbulent when it comes to life definition. Every year, the situation must be re-evaluated, and usually every year it's quite different than the one preceding. However, I turned 24 this year. I have decided this means I'm categorically in my mid-twenties. It's not supposed to continue to churn like this. Unfortunately, I can't be that naive, because we all know life doesn't stop changing after 23, and come to think of it, it's a much longer period on the horizon but it's also probably far more unlike anything before it. Last year was the year of the college graduation, and the "real" job. This is the year of the wedding and the first promotion. Next year might be the year of the baby and perhaps the second "real" job. Of course, unless it's career-related, it probably won't apply to me any time soon. But that doesn't slow down anyone else I know, and thus I've found myself the recipient of an inordinate number of wedding invitations.
The Bachelor Party
Dave is getting married. Dave graduated college on time (that is, one year earlier than I did, although we're the same age), but did not have the greatest of luck in finding a first job. He went back to our hometown and got some temporary work at a prominent retail electronics store while his girlfriend worked on finishing her last year of college back at the school where they met. One weekend, Dave decided to come visit me. One night, after some pretty superlative drinking, Dave told me he was thinking about proposing to Nicole, his girlfriend. I immediately threatened to punch him. Needless to say, Dave eventually proposed anyway, and I did not punch him, and now Dave is getting married.
Dave's bachelor party was this weekend. I'm not going to go into details, because that's not the point of this story, but I drove all the way back the six or seven hours to my hometown for it. As I got on the road, I realized I was only going to be gone for a total of two and a half, maybe three days. It felt like it was going to be at least two weeks, and it felt like I was leaving a lot of unresolved messes behind. Truth be told, I was. Not much that I can think of surpasses the feeling of knowing you have the next six hours to yourself in a car, with a loaded iPod and infinite night-time.
Long story short, I felt like I was in a movie about having some really profound experience returning to a place I once called home, and all that really happened was I drove for a very, very long time by myself. It wasn't bad, it wasn't some particularly trenchant or even interesting experience, but there was a lot to write about and then I left this post unfinished in draft form and would now like to write about something else instead. Sorry.
What feels worse than turning a life corner unexpectedly? Not much, if you ask me. Late teens and early twenties tend to be a bit turbulent when it comes to life definition. Every year, the situation must be re-evaluated, and usually every year it's quite different than the one preceding. However, I turned 24 this year. I have decided this means I'm categorically in my mid-twenties. It's not supposed to continue to churn like this. Unfortunately, I can't be that naive, because we all know life doesn't stop changing after 23, and come to think of it, it's a much longer period on the horizon but it's also probably far more unlike anything before it. Last year was the year of the college graduation, and the "real" job. This is the year of the wedding and the first promotion. Next year might be the year of the baby and perhaps the second "real" job. Of course, unless it's career-related, it probably won't apply to me any time soon. But that doesn't slow down anyone else I know, and thus I've found myself the recipient of an inordinate number of wedding invitations.
The Bachelor Party
Dave is getting married. Dave graduated college on time (that is, one year earlier than I did, although we're the same age), but did not have the greatest of luck in finding a first job. He went back to our hometown and got some temporary work at a prominent retail electronics store while his girlfriend worked on finishing her last year of college back at the school where they met. One weekend, Dave decided to come visit me. One night, after some pretty superlative drinking, Dave told me he was thinking about proposing to Nicole, his girlfriend. I immediately threatened to punch him. Needless to say, Dave eventually proposed anyway, and I did not punch him, and now Dave is getting married.
Dave's bachelor party was this weekend. I'm not going to go into details, because that's not the point of this story, but I drove all the way back the six or seven hours to my hometown for it. As I got on the road, I realized I was only going to be gone for a total of two and a half, maybe three days. It felt like it was going to be at least two weeks, and it felt like I was leaving a lot of unresolved messes behind. Truth be told, I was. Not much that I can think of surpasses the feeling of knowing you have the next six hours to yourself in a car, with a loaded iPod and infinite night-time.
Long story short, I felt like I was in a movie about having some really profound experience returning to a place I once called home, and all that really happened was I drove for a very, very long time by myself. It wasn't bad, it wasn't some particularly trenchant or even interesting experience, but there was a lot to write about and then I left this post unfinished in draft form and would now like to write about something else instead. Sorry.
4.25.2007
Phase II
Phase II might never end. And it might never have started. It can be very difficult to tell sometimes, but I know this much: after moving into the place, I needed to take a little time setting up shop and making this truly my home. I've done a good job of it, and Bryant Avenue espouses all that I love about Minneapolis, because it's close to the geographical fixtures that make the city what it is, and because it's the street that, when I turn onto it, feels like coming down the street on which I grew up, except that I'm having this peculiarly prescient awareness of a feeling of home that technically doesn't exist yet. I've only been at this address for a couple of months, so it can't be that familiar yet.
At any rate, Phase II was the cleansing phase. It was settling into my life without anyone else there to define it. It was hibernation. It was bliss. That's really all I need to say about that. And that actually allows me a pretty good point to take this story wherever I feel like taking it, and I suppose accordingly, the only logical place to take it is onward, so off we go.
We're just going to ignore the fact that I haven't put any new paint on this canvas for an unreasonably long time. I'm busy, and that's pretty much always a given, but how long does it really take to stop for a moment and gather one's sanity? Not so long that it should be omitted from the routine. Then again, by the same logic, we'd all be eating and sleeping regularly, too, but I most certainly don't do that either. At any rate, I get this odd feeling that I've already said this here, but I choose to make my New Year's resolutions at peculiar times of the year, like for example, the end of May. And right now I resolve to use this space for something a little more constructive than I have in the past. This means two things: one, more frequent posting. If I can, I might renege on that one. But two, I need to use this as more than means for ruminating my thoughts on being lonely or sad or I guess anything else that Chris Carrabba would write about. My life isn't perfect, as nobody's is, but I really can't complain either.
To usher in the new era, it's time for a new post-naming convention. I have a plugin on my browser called Firesomething that changes the word "Firefox" on the title bar of the application window to something else, randomly compounding two unrelated words.
At any rate, Phase II was the cleansing phase. It was settling into my life without anyone else there to define it. It was hibernation. It was bliss. That's really all I need to say about that. And that actually allows me a pretty good point to take this story wherever I feel like taking it, and I suppose accordingly, the only logical place to take it is onward, so off we go.
***
We're just going to ignore the fact that I haven't put any new paint on this canvas for an unreasonably long time. I'm busy, and that's pretty much always a given, but how long does it really take to stop for a moment and gather one's sanity? Not so long that it should be omitted from the routine. Then again, by the same logic, we'd all be eating and sleeping regularly, too, but I most certainly don't do that either. At any rate, I get this odd feeling that I've already said this here, but I choose to make my New Year's resolutions at peculiar times of the year, like for example, the end of May. And right now I resolve to use this space for something a little more constructive than I have in the past. This means two things: one, more frequent posting. If I can, I might renege on that one. But two, I need to use this as more than means for ruminating my thoughts on being lonely or sad or I guess anything else that Chris Carrabba would write about. My life isn't perfect, as nobody's is, but I really can't complain either.
To usher in the new era, it's time for a new post-naming convention. I have a plugin on my browser called Firesomething that changes the word "Firefox" on the title bar of the application window to something else, randomly compounding two unrelated words.
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