Riding the EL, Friday Fun, and my failed attempt at Missed Connections and proof that, Yes, I am a loser

This morning, on the el, there was a man who I thought was, well, a hottie. But, for me, the el is about commuting, not being hit on. That, and I am a big old shy loser, out in the world, when I don’t have a drink in my hand and I’m not standing in a bar.

It isn’t that often that I see someone on the street that I find attractive. Actually, it’s rare anywhere, not just on the street. So, this morning, I’m on the brown line, I see a cute guy. I am plugged into my iPod, I’m stealing some commute time to do a little work on a story I’m writing, so although I do notice him, I don’t make eyes at him or anything. I’m all plugged into my private world. But, again, I did think he was cute.

When the train stopped, I stood up and my iPod fell from my lap onto the ground in front of him. He picked it up and handed it me. I smiled at him and said, “Thank you,” and then rushed off the train before the doors closed.

Walking into the office I thought about posting a missed connection. I’d never done it. I’d never felt inclined to even attempt it. I used to read them occasionally, but actually hadn’t looked in awhile. It’s Friday, I’m bored. Why not?

So I posted this:

Title: I dropped my iPod (Brown line - Quincy stop)

browline...quincy stop around 10:30am...I stood up to exit the train and you picked it up and handed it me...I just wanted to say ...THANK YOU

And so far this afternoon I received two emails. This first one said:

Don't people communicate face-2-face anymore. Damn!

The second said:

oh god, PLEASE tell me that you at least said thank you when it happened and didn't wait to later post it online. that's really pathetic, if it's true. but if you did say thanks to begin with then that's cool... ignore me.

I’m not sure what I should have said, “I’d like to buy you a drink? I’d like to talk to you? I think you’re cute?" That wasn't my intention. I just wanted to reach out to a cutie on the train and say thanks. Or maybe it was and I’m just too wimpy, even anonymously online, to say things like that (when I am sober).

Anyway, this was my unsuccessful attempt at dipping my toe into Missed Connections.
So, I’m headed to Happy Hour where, with vodka in hand, I feel freer to flirt with abandon.

Happy Friday All!

Couple things that have been bugging me lately.

Don't pee on the toilet seat. Really.

When you are in the ladies room, don't spray so much perfume, that I end up smelling like your perfume.

Drama. Can't we all just take a deep breath and relax?

You don't always respond to my emails or return my phone calls, so don't whig out when I don't respond to yours.

Please respond to my emails.

Wait for people to exit the el before pushing your way on.

Hurry up and get off the damn train.

Stop singing under your breath. You are not in the shower. You are not on a karaoke stage. You are sitting next to me on public transportation.

The el is not a singles bar. If I am reading a book (or listening to my iPod) do not repeatedly ask for my phone number or my email address when I have repeatedly and politely refused to give it to you. Also, don't bother giving me your phone number and email address. Drunkard.

Seriously. Take a deep breath. Everyone.

I hate phlegm. I hate mucous. I hate congestion. I hate my sinuses. I hate being sick.

I hate when I'm cranky. I hate when other people are cranky.

I like sunny days.

I like eating lunch outside.

I like puppies.

And dogs.

And kittens.

And cats.

And lattes. I miss drinking lattes. I wish I could still afford to drink a latte every morning. I miss making money.

Puppies are cute.

What is hidden in my closet?

I am not an organized person. And I'm a shopper (at least when I am employed and have a paycheck) On top of that, I am a pack rat. I'm borderline a hoarder. Alright, maybe I'm not that bad. But, it's not good.

I have clothes in my closet that I haven't worn in over four years. I also took more than eight trash bags of stuff to salvation army when I moved out of New York over three years ago. And cleared out another three bags worth when I moved into my current apartment a year and half ago. And yet, I still have crap in the back of my closet that serves no purpose, except to hang on a hanger.

Once, in NYC, I took a little trip through my closet and pulled out a dress that I forgot I owned. My roommate at the time commented that maybe I should shop in my closet. She had a point.

When I pulled out my sweaters this fall I realized that I owned two cashmere, sleeveless, cowl neck brown sweaters. What? really? I meant it's not like a white button down or a black turtle neck. One of them was a Banana Republic purchase, the other a Marshalls shopportunity. I'm sure I bought them months apart. But still, wouldn't you think I would realize what I was doing? Shouldn't I know what sweaters I already own?

I changed my blogger profile pic. It's one I took last year when I cut off ten inches of my hair. I tried taking a photo of it to email it to a friend. Anyway, I noticed the sweater that I'm wearing in the pictures and I wondered, where the hell is that sweater now? Seriously. I have no idea where it is.

My roommate was right. I need to do some shopping in my own closet.

cryptic notes

As a writer (and in particular as someone with ADD), I do not always have a pen handy when I have an idea, so I have gotten into the habit of saving text drafts of ideas. But frequently I forget what I was making notes about. Following are some notes I made about story/essay/blog entry ideas:

• Olive (no idea. Seriously, not one clue)
• What would be innocuous? (again, who knows?)
• Signs on Greenlawn (Greenlawn Dr was the street of my childhood home. But I don't know what I wanted to write about the signs)
• An ordinary day (this one I do remember. How seemingly out of nowhere your perception of something changes.)
• The backend of peoples homes (This is referring to the view from the el, but when I started writing I kept thinking of Denis Johnsons Dirty Wedding and nothing I wrote could compare)
• Gaf (Irish slang for home. Not sure what I wanted to say. But I like the word)
• Winners: Hairbrush and shoes (this one puzzled me for quite a long time until I realized it was referring to the bizarreness of our news that week..the Hairbrush was Blago's and the shoes were the ones tossed at W)

Twittering Too Much

Twitterific

Unemployment means a lot of time available to waste. And for me, I waste on it online and watching tv, usually simultaneously. I have become a news and blog junkie. And twitter is not helping. At all.

At first my tweets were from friends. One is a college friend who tweets every thought. No matter how mundane. All day long I read about how he can’t find a folder, has a meeting, is eating a cheese sandwich for lunch, found the folder, ate a dorito that fell on the floor, is on a conference call and ready to go home for dinner.

Then I progressed up to tweets from Obama, the Adler planetarium, Buzz feed, until I moved on to full on obsession with gawker.com, daily intel, chicago tribune, npr news, cnn, politico and other obsessive twittering.

News and gossip galore.

This morning, from four difference sources, I got a tweet on the 533,000 lost jobs.

What fun.

One can be TOO informed.

If You Want My Body And You Think I'm Sexy

Thoughts on Attraction

Friday night I got all dolled up (eye shadow, painful high heels and everything) to attend a party. At the beginning of the evening a friend and I were dud magnets. If you are boring and not very attractive, you talked to us. Even after we tried to politely make an exit by saying we were going to the bar, you asked us to get you a drink, or you followed us. You were not bad guys or losers. Just not guys we were interested in talking to. Ironically (or maybe karmically) there were two guys who we thought were kind of cute and amusing that we ended up with in conversations. Except they walked away from us. Twice. We joked (and wondered) if they were trying to avoid us like we were trying to avoid the duds that kept talking to us.

I did have a conversation with one guy in particular that was funny. He had a razor(ish) sharp sense of humor. I admit, I enjoy the challenge of trading barbs with someone who almost offends me but pushes me to be wittier. He was not unattractive but still not my type. He made a comment that he wouldn’t have talked to me so much if I wasn’t so cute. (First of all, ick) And rhetorically (at least he thought so) asked “Isn’t that why you are talking to me? Because I’m cute?” (again, ick) I truthfully told him I hadn’t decided yet if I was attracted to him. He actually tried to argue with me that I was. Which is kind of funny and probably to some girls attractive. Sometimes cockiness can be intriguing. But other times it’s just annoying.

I tried to explain to him that while for men attractiveness is black or white, for women it’s all kinds of grey shades. Men are attracted or they are not. At least, that’s been my observation. I think it can evolve and change at times. But pretty much, it’s there or it’s not.

For woman though it’s so much muckier. Sometimes you can be a bit attracted to someone. Just a bit, there are random moments it pops up (sorry for the pun) and moments its just not there at all. At times I have met a guy and been intrigued by him but not sure if attraction was going to show up or not, so then I go on a date with him. And at times, on the date, he’s charmed me in his own way and then wham! I want to kiss him. And other times I’ve gone on a date with someone and although they are charming and interesting and a great guy, I just don’t feel it. And know that I never will.

In that way it’s black and white for me. Once I realize it’s not there. It’s not there.

An interesting thing to note (at least interesting to me) is that I did kiss someone Friday night, someone who the first time I met I thought he was cute. But then occasionally times I hung out with him, I found him kind of annoying. He is charming and a good guy but he’s a LOT of personality at times. And while he could be fun to hang out with, I didn’t think of him as cute as the first time I met him. But the magic of Vodka, the dance floor at Carols, and the late hour I guess a moment was created so I kissed him. I don’t know why, I just know that in that moment it seemed to make sense.

Who knows why, when or how attraction occurs.

Good Bye to 2006 ~ onward for a new year

2006 ~ it was the best of times it was a the worst of times.

a friend recently, when talking about a year he spent abroad during undergrad, commented that it was a great year and he could live it over and over again ~ groundhog day style. Which gave me pause, because, a whole year? I thought back over my life ... my, well, a few decades on this earth. And I can think of days, weeks, even months that I would love to go back to hang out and re-experience. But a whole year? Only if I could cut out certain months, weeks, days even moments.

This was a year that had some beautiful, blissful days ...and exceptionally crappy ones. I made a list of the great things and the bad things of 2006. It was, for every good thing there was a bad thing. It seems to me that my whole life is a balance of good and bad. The good things are always paid for by some pretty crappy things.

A friend in college, when going through a bad time would always say to herself, "Equal pleasure, equal pain" as a comforting mantra to get herself through it. I'm not sure that's so comforting. But, in looking back over the past year ...I would say there was some real crap.

But, some good...and some really great stuff too.

and so ... on to a new year.

2007, bring it on..

Speaking of hugging...

I had friends over on Friday night. We drank hot wassail and ate snacks. It was the first time I had seen most of them in three weeks. They hug. Real hugs. The squeeze tight and hold on kind. It was good to see them again and to remember that I do like Chicago, and that I do have some great friends here.

I'm sitting in a coffee shop connected to free wi fi. When I first sat down my computer wasn't connecting. It makes me feel powerless. I have the ip address, but low connectivity. My computer struggles to repair it and tells me over and over again it can't. I'm feeling melancholic today. I wonder, is it a metaphor for my mood?

A women walks around, asking everyone if they have internet problems. I realize, it's not just me. It's everyone. Sometimes I’m too metaphoric for my own good.

A good friend and fellow writing MFA'er once commented that for such a cheery person there is an unspoken sadness in my writing. I think I'm pretty happy. I don't know why my writing tends to be pretty sad. Maybe if my laptop didn't have connectivity issues, I'd write happier stories.

Dave Matthews is playing on the juke box. I can say without irony that I love Dave Matthews. I've loved Dave Matthews since I was twenty one. I saw him play at fraternity parties. Under The Table and Dreaming reminds of my college boyfriend and our tortured messed up love affair, and basically just being young and drunk and in college. I'm happy for his success, but I miss the old Dave Matthews. The play in tiny bars in the south Dave Matthews.

I love my new coffee shop. They are now playing the Cure. It's as if they are playing music from my IPod.