Hello, Goodbye.

I've given up social networking for one month. Find out why & for daily updates go to http://blondenation.wordpress.com

Extreme Dating (future X-Games sport?)

Since I've been in California, I've come across a plethora of differences between the East Coast and the West Coast. Here's a tasty sampling:

-When you go to a bar in the Northeast, you will always hear Jay-Z. In LA, "California Love" by Tupac or anything by Dr. Dre will vibe through the crowd and get an entire room of people repping the Westside and dancing.

-Whereas there are countless Italian restaurants (authentic and delicious) in the tri-state area, Southern California is littered with the best Mexican you will ever taste.

-Punk kids vs. Bros

-SUVs for practicality vs. convertibles for everyday sunshine (or Prii for green-ness)

-Toll roads (get out your your EZ-Pass please!) vs. freeways

-Humidity vs. dry heat

-Knowing everyone vs. meeting new people every day

-The idea of living to work vs. working so you can live

Trust me, there are plenty more (feel free to leave some comments and add to the list)! But when the day is done, the difference is very clear: here on the West coast, we live a laid-back, casual life. East coasters find pleasure in extreme intensity in every facet of their lives, it seems. Intense work habits, intense talking mannerisms, intense rage...Or at least that's been my experience.

And so, over a cold beer tonight was born the realization of extreme dating. This is another little East Coast v. West Coast observation.

I've found dating in LA to be so much more of a game; a topic that somehow keeps re-emerging in conversation with friends this past week. I've been observing recently that courtship here in LA is strategic in the sense that there are certain roles everyone plays into, and you follow these superficial yet fairly-effective rules: pick your scene for the night, get ready, get on the list (if you need to), valet & get your scope on. It's formulaic but it's fun. People are much more approachable here; fellas want to put their best foot forward and conversations generally coast from "where are you from" to what it's like there to "what do you do" to "what do you WANT to do" to telling each other entertaining stories regarding some experience you both had in life ("OMG SO weird!")...it's pretty basic. Guys will always ask for your number, email, twitter account OR maybe even facebook you on the spot from their iPhone. You will most often hear back from them if they actually are single (married men who take off their rings when they go out or are "separated"- what a drag). You might snag a date if you're interested. You text here and there leading up to the date, go out, probably get drunk, go dancing, maybe have casual sex (no judgement!). This seems to be pretty basic, I think.

The aura of this dating roundabout is just so casual though. It was so fun when I first got here and five guys a night would talk to me and ask for my number or just be fun and interesting - I always felt like I had to battle guys back East, but more on that later. This casual meeting makes for casual dates and casual dating - it's all so laid back. No instant labels. No incessent texting. No real pressure, actually. It's fair to assume that the other person might be dating a few other people. It's just kind of...well, again, casual! But then I started to wonder if anyone in this city was ever serious...

I've casually dated around since I've gotten here a bit, and it most certainly has been a grand time. I've gone on the best dates of my life here! Dates here are all about doing things and going places and have a greater sense of adventure than perhaps that of the East Coast. I mean, it's not their fault; we have nice weather all year-round which is conducive to a lot of "doing."

So the other end of the spectrum would be where you would find East Coast dating styles. The whole experience is just much more intense. First, just simply meeting a dude is a whole different experience. New game, new rules. I find that the guys base their initial pick-up on cynicism or making fun of the girl in some way. I can't tell you how many times I've had a conversation started with me by a dude who is making fun of a piece of jewelry I'm wearing or the drink I'm drinking. If I've got a Hoegaarden, then New Castle is "soooo much better." Maybe I'm wearing a chunky bracelet, I'll get a "wow, did you steal that from a hobo?"

Aside from the fact that it's flat out rude, or that dumb guys sometimes have to act like they're not interested because they think that's how you'll know they aren't interested (for a great commentary on this, check out http://cateblack.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-valentines-day.html), it's just a more intense experience. It's like guys want to grill you up front; if they mock you it's because they're trying to get to know you I suppose. If they're interested then you'll perhaps go on a date, but instead of the do-something-fabulous date, I feel as if it's more geared to getting to know one another more quickly - dinner dates versus "doing dates." Lots of one-on-one time. It's just more direct. You get the point.

But then, it seems, things become even more intense while dating. I feel like people are on a fast-track to get to the point - either it's gonna work out for a long run or it won't. Fights are earlier on. I think there's a greater possessiveness that exists amongst couples. People don't date around - multiple people at once - the same way it's a norm here. There's always a general level of expectation from both girls AND guys. And if it's not gonna work out, then onto the next. Giddy-up!

Being someone who comes from this East coast style, the west coast dating realm has certainly surprised me. So I suppose the question is now: Which style of dating is better? The extreme intensity of the East coast world or the casual, laid-back LA dating scene?

Both have horrible flaws. One the one hand, I frequently meet guys who are SUPER hot, charming and 35 or older. They're total and self-proclaimed bachelors! It's like the George Clooneys of the world are all flocking to Los Angeles. And they'll stay that way for as long as they want because they're the fun, wealthy good looking guys that will only get hotter with age, you know? This isn't a bad thing if you're looking for a good time, but if you are hoping to one day have something deeper than that, well, don't count on this population of men to be calling you just so he can come over and snuggle on the couch when it's raining. And it's not just the Cloonians, it's representative of the majority of the people dating in LA, both women and men. Looking for a good time with someone they enjoy - light, casual. It's essentially reflecting the attitude or aura of the city on a whole. You might find love and I'm sure many do - but it never seems to be the initial goal.

As far as the East coasters go, well, the downside is that intensity can be forceful, and forced can fail. I know for a fact (at least for myself) that love arrives when you least expect it. So rushing through the process or starting it off with that negative attitude that I so often find in East coast dudes is not the right approach. Over-commitment too soon is like sentencing yourself to relationship hell. I know people who are in true love will probably disagree, but even if you are, isn't it fun to keep things at a slower pace to keep it in check? What's the rush? Savor the courtship (assuming there is some). Daydream about the other person. I don't know why but I guess I just feel like the East coast style is so aggressive, so fast, so pushy. It makes me uncomfortable.

So there you have it. My preference is the LA scene because it's more fun. I like to think that dating should be fun and exciting. I want to date around and learn what I like and don't like. I love doing new things with new people and well, this is the place to be for that. It is frustrating sometimes because this town is a town of do-ers and move-ers: everyone is actively trying to get to somewhere and so if you don't fit into that, well, you might be eliminated. But on the other hand, it's a wonderful thing to date people who are aspiring for great things that they are passionate about.

I think I'll take my chances, double down, and believe that I'll find someone fun to be passionate about and with...

the trickle-down effect

In the time spanning my most recent post, (not the test one, obviously) I've come a long way. Somewhat reluctantly. But I've come a ways.

Last I left my dear audience of about two, I was coming undone over a relationship that had ended. I was writing through my broken heart which unfortunately, still aches, as I wondered what the next step for me would be. Getting dumped came at a strange time for me; I felt like I was at a momentary apex, but I was starting to fe like my chest was beginning to fall inwards from that exquisite, drawn-in breath.

I was having a life-high. Everything was grand. The best life had been, actually. Great location, good job, meeting interesting new people every day, fantastic boyfriend and all other relationships doing extremely well. I felt proud of all that I had achieved and felt like I deserved them. I've always been a hard worker, but more recently become a chance-taker. I'm extraordinarily proud of myself for the gambling I've done based on what my heart has suggested I do. This most recent, best version of me was yielding amazing wealth in every facet of my life.

And so came this blow that was the last knockout of the match. I had gone a couple rounds of getting knocked down - feeling truly depressed again, feeling increasingly unsatisfied in my relationship, feeling unfufilled in my job with little-to-no extracurricular activities keeping me busy - and that was the final right hook. I needed to collapse for a bit while and let my head spin while the ref counted to ten. I was, and still slightly am, out for the count.

Did you ever put puzzles together as a child? I loved puzzles and they were always a family activity for myself and my siblings. We would go to the Jersey Shore on vacation for a week, and to prevent us from watching TV, my mom would buy us 100-piece puzzles at the five and dime (yes, they still have one in Ocean City, NJ) to pass the down time and to bond, I suppose. I loved them. They were beautiful and lovely, these individual, intricately cut pieces, coming together to form a picturesque scene that really didn't matter. And then, when we were all done standing over this puzzle on whatever table it was on with our hands on our hips for an awkward amount of time, one of us would look at the other and give the signal of destruction. I swear to God, I can still see us in slow-motion, all running toward that puzzle at the same time, wanting to rip it apart, only to rebuild the next one. We would make sure not ONE piece was left hooked to it's neighbor. I think that's about how I felt this past week. Like a hundred pieces randomly scattered about with only the box to hold me. And the pretty cover with what it's supposed to look like on the front.

And so since Saturday, I've let myself feel whatever it is that I needed to feel. Exposed, sad, angry, enraged, confused, broken. I didn't bother trying to pick up all the pieces because I just knew that if I tried to put it all back together too soon, it just would become frustrating. I've learned in the past and I suppose that I'm remembering it all again in the present that sometimes things must come undone in order for there to be a reconstruction. I forgot this about myself - that after the greatest fall comes my greatest strength.

It's scary feeling like things are falling through your fingers and that you might not actually be able to control everything in your life. But sometimes instead of scrambling, just ride it out. You have to let go every once in a while.

I did this. I was originally going to give myself a month to feel whatever I needed to and act out in any way I needed to in order to get it out of my system, but I've found after one week that I'm not sure I truly need all that time. In this past seven days, I've cried for everything, drank too much, screamed in my car, flipped people off, smoked too many cigarettes, been a bitch, etc. This week seemed to have tired me out though, and here I am on day seven, coming to a point of reconciliation. I'm starting to get over my breakup as well as some of the other things that were overwhelming my mind. Part of that was out of my control - the guy never contacted me at all which made for a strange cut; strange in that my mind deserved to not me tormented by a teaser of any sort, which was something that equally tormented my heart. Ironically enough, I had actually given him the link to my blog about a week before he broke up with me so he could hear my writing. I suppose if you're finally getting around to reading this, well, I'm not sure who should feel more embarrassed.

I know I feel better when I say cynical things out loud and then seconds later realize I don't believe it.

I had a discussion this week that accidentally put some things in perspective for me. It was a discussion meant for my own personal well-being in that I was trying to find more information about doing a PhD in American Studies. My mentor, a former professor of mine and an amazingly gifted individual, Dr. Michael Aaron Rockland, had set aside some time for us to talk about his experiences in getting his higher education. We began with a Q&A format: I asked about how he chose his school, how he paid for the program, the question of whether or not to get an MA first, the financial gamble in the academic career realm and also the possibility of getting a PhD in History or English to broaden my career opportunities. I was feeling frustrated because I didn't want to be logical about something I'm so passionate about. Then the conversation made a turn. He said to me, "Beth, look. I can tell you all your options, I can give you all the information head-on, but I don't want to be the one discouraging something that you love. If you know that this is what you want, follow your heart."

He went on to tell me about how every decision he has ever made that has brought him great wealth in life has been because he did exactly what his heart told him to do. I felt electric. For a long time in my life I felt like I did what I thought was "right" instead of trusting my gut. But those times where I listened to what my very inner core was telling me, I shone brighter than I ever had before. I listened to his incredible stories of passion about being drafted into the military and being a cultural attache and spending time with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his experiences becoming a dean at Rutgers, founding the American Studies Department, his marriage choices, his children, his authorship, his 28 rejections before having his first book published which then went on to become a New York Time's "Notable Books" - the man used his internal compass to find his direction and has flourished. In a world where everyone tells you to look both ways before crossing, sometimes you just have to trust your instincts and leap.

This lit a fire in my heart, in my mind.

We spoke further and he said two more things that stuck to me. The first being that no matter what, you should always be yourself across the board. If you do what you love, you will succeed the most in that. Additionally, if you allow yourself to do what you love, your professional life as well as your personal life will be one. Having fluidity between these two, I feel, is admirable and something I desperately dream of having in my life. I think about those I look up to most in life, and in every single instance, they are folks that are and do exactly as they are. My mom, for example, is that kind of person. She is a neonatal nurse, is such a caretaker to her children and all those around her, is a rock of a woman-mother figure, is a pro-life activist as well as a devout Catholic. I may not necessarily agree with her points of view, but by God, that woman is a beacon of light to all those who surround her. She upholds her sense of self regardless of what others around her may think. I want to be an academic and a purveyor and diffuser of knowledge. I dream of teaching others as well as being someone who learns from all of my experiences. I know I will be this person and I like to think I'm already in the making...

The second thing that Dr. Rockland said to me was that he has no regrets in life. I too feel this exact sentiment and it's been my mantra for quite some time now. I have had a truly dark and difficult personal past and I know that regardless of every bad or good decision I've ever made, each of those choices has shaped me into who I am today. I like who I am and I respect all of the bad and the good, and thus I regret nothing. I can honestly and openly speak on each one of my life-instances and feel like I could offer some piece of knowledge to someone through these experiences. I have nothing to be ashamed of and I am very proud of that.

And so this conversation of false reality and truth and hopes and dreams and finally, excitement, has led me to believe that I, in fact, have perhaps fallen down and can not-so-simply regroup. I will be okay. I've done this before under a different facade and I will once again prevail a stronger gal than I was in the first place. I always have been happiest and reaped the greatest wealth from following my heart.

And so this week of self-reflection and analyzing has taught me many things I would like to work on, but also that it is definitely okay to feel, to be, and to grow. There needs to be a balance in life between control and focus amongst the desire to just "go with the flow."

I've lived and loved and worked hard and fallen and come back again. And I will once more.

test

what the fuck is going on with my fonts? html is rejecting me

Hello, Monday

Monday. Usually a day of refreshing back-to-work energy for me. Most people loathe Monday; I embrace it. It’s the beginning of a new week. New activities on the horizon. Usually.

Today is not one of those Mondays for me. Today I woke up feeling groggy and sick. I didn’t sleep well – I kept waking up over and over only to remember that this past weekend was not, in fact, a dream at all. Sleep was my only hope for my mind to shut up. And even then, bad thoughts swam in my REM cycle.

I lost something Saturday. I lost a guy, a relationship. Okay, so I didn’t misplace it – I was relieved of girlfriend duty (thank you friend for telling me to stop saying “dumped”). I had certain expectations of what I wanted, things I thought to be fairly reasonable: more time, more attention. I was angry at not getting these things I had once had earlier on in the relationship and resentful that it was diminishing before my eyes. I suppose I was, in essence, just gripping sand. I didn’t understand why I was losing ground and I guess I still don’t understand, really.

I feel mad, I feel sad, I feel confused and hurt. My heart feels heavy and my stomach sick. My ego is bruised. I’m completely and utterly humiliated. I feel like a complete idiot and that pisses me off, for lack of a more eloquent way to say it.

I always thought it was a strange thing that people would try to argue with their now-former significant other as to why they shouldn’t be dumped. I mean, seriously, you can’t really argue your way into making that person feel a certain way toward you – that is desperate, pathetic and sad. Although, now being the person relieved of duty (I’ve only ever been on the other side), I can understand the irrational distress of wanting reasons why, wanting to know what I could have done for things to be better. I got the bullshit list of “I’m trying to make you feel better about the fact that I’m dumping you” reasons, which only made me feel smaller. I guess there’s no nice way to do it, but I didn’t get a last anything. I’ve never had such a clean cut and although I’m not one for a drawn-out anything, I find myself pathetically hoping that when my phone dings, it’s him. I disgust myself with these embarrassingly hopeless thoughts.

However in this instance, I’m not sure that there was anything I could have done. I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be, and I just happen to feel more invested than the other party (hello, embarrassing). Of course I want to analyze and make justifications as to why I’m definitely not to blame – he was too robotic, too unemotional, too logical, too busy, too uncomfortable, too something that makes me not have to look at me. I get the sympathy lines like, “you’re too good for him,” or “he wasn’t man enough to handle how deep you run and how dynamic you are” or other crazy Beth-propaganda that just makes me feel patronized and stupid. I don’t believe those things, at least not right now while I’m feeling totally burned and insecure. None of this makes me feel better. Or makes sense to me.

I do, however, feel robbed in various ways. Robbed of my dignity in the sense that I feel as if I had been cut out in the way volleyball practice has to be cut out on Sundays to make room for some other, better activity. I cringe at that thought, which makes me feel disposable. I think, “well, if I was that disposable, then he must not have really cared at all in the first place.” This might be wrong, but it sure as hell feels pretty accurate in this key-slamming moment. Which, in turn, cues the humiliation.

I wasn’t searching for a relationship by any means. I had just come off one of the worst weeks of my life when my roommate dragged me out to some random soccer outing. I walked on that astro turf field with zero expectations resenting that I had been forced to put jeans on when all I really wanted to do was hide at home. But by the end of the night, I found myself intrigued by a guy who I was instantly attracted to for his humor, smarts, good looks and exciting attitude. And I continued with that because I thought he was fabulous. Not because it made sense, or because it was a good time to be in a relationship or that he looked good on paper. I genuinely liked him and just enjoyed being around him. And I truly thought he felt those same things about me because I thought that was why people date in the first place, right? Because they like one another? Perhaps just his feelings dwindled and mine didn’t. If that’s the case, well, I suppose I can’t be angry at that.

Whatever the case, I feel slightly in shock. I mean, things weren’t really going the way I wanted in the sense that I felt I wasn’t getting enough of his time, but I guess I just thought that it was just a hiccup and that it would be okay in the end because they way he used to look me right in the eye before he kissed me spoke louder than circumstance. I suppose I was jaded. Again, cue feeling positively stupid.

I can’t seem to shake this rug-out-from-under feeling. I wish I could just be exactly the way that I thought others should be when I broke up with them – “can’t we just be adults, agree that it didn’t work and just move on” but it’s much easier to be that way if you’re not the one being dumped. I’ve never been dumped. This is awful. I can’t even think of his face without feeling a knot in my stomach, not to mention the other physical and non-physical reminders like my toothpaste, or my socks or a sweatshirt or an entire town. It’s really goddamn annoying.

I don’t know how I’ll feel better but I will assume distraction and time will yield personal growth and realizations about what other things I want, don’t want blah blah blah blah…

Time. Time. Tick tock.