Could You, Would You Here or There

I had the option to either stay up too late drinking and dancing with friends or stay home and work my fingers to the bone for an under appreciative boss. Of course I chose the former and am now paying the price of sickness and trying to meet my deadline. This isn't the first time conundrums such as this has arisen, in fact, they occur quite often. Do I resort to selling my plasma to purchase the new Calvin Klein scent or risk smelling like summer sea salt in the middle of sub-zero ice scraping? Should I tell the woman behind the counter she has something big and green and ugly in her teeth or try to ignore it and hope it never happens to me? When faced with a tough decision I tend to measure everything against my sanity, which is always precariously balanced. Is there ever a crack in the rock or a soft spot in the hard place we can slip through unscathed and arrive safely on the other side? Must we always have to sacrifice the sake of sanity? How do we choose between the lesser of two evils?

The Art of Commitment

A friend of mine was married over a year ago to a man named Artie whom we'll call "a little different." He was artsy in an extreme way and although my friend has a bit of a wild side, she is hardly the kind of person to adorn herself with body paint and parade through a party munching on octopi innards. I recently had lunch with my old chum to catch up on old times and fill each other in on the present workings of our lives. After telling her of my plans to sign up for a Bob Ross painting course, and my recent foray into self defense classes, she informed me she quit her job as newspaper editor in pursuit of filming wild animals doing the dirty deed to splice together with home movies and Janis Joplin music in hopes of creating an art house film to win many obscure awards which will bring neither fame nor fortune. To each their own I figure, except that this new adventure wasn't her own -- this quest into film reeked of Art-house Artie.

Before my friend met her husband she was sensible, driven and a bit of an egotist. Now she is a female Artie whose sole goal in life is to shock. I wonder, when we find someone we are willing to commit to, must we leave our alter egos at the altar? Must a couple always be a "we," or is it possible to remain a "me" within an "us?" Can we be true to our partners and ourselves at the same time?

The Smell of Success

I know of a man who had accumulated such wealth he had a home on each coast, a wine selection so vast as to get a small country intoxicated not to mention a line of colognes named after each of his ex-wives. His net worth is more than I care to mention and he could quite easily live in the lap of luxury for the rest of his life on interest alone, and he's only forty. True, the man has a few years on me, but given my track record for making money I don't foresee myself eating from the same silver caviar dish as him anytime soon. I have, however, achieved certain life goals. For instance, I know the names of all of Santa's reindeer and Snow White's dwarfs, I can say, "Hello," in twenty-five languages and have the ability to mix a mean cocktail. These may not buy me a house in the Hamptons, but they do make me fun at parties. Does it mean I am a failure because I can count my annual income figures on one hand? Is there more to success than dollars and scents? How do we know when we've made it? Success -- when do we stop striving and start enjoying?

You are Cordially Invited

My friend Darren has invited me to his third wedding in the eight short years I have known him. I don't meat to sound judgmental, after all I am on my third martini of the morning, but I don't know what kind of gift is appropriate to give to a man who is obviously going through a mid-wife crisis. They say you marry the first time for love and the second time for money. But what about the third? Has marriage developed into some sort of bad habit by then? Perhaps there are 12-step programs for people who are addicted to spending vast amounts of money in honor of the first day of the rest of their two years together.

In America the divorce rate is 50% and climbing higher each year. The traditional wedding vows clearly state, "Till death do us part," and as far as I recall, I have never attended one of Darren's funerals. In a fast paced world where problems are solved in thirty-minute TV segments and entire wars are reduced to blurbs in the news, have we lost the ability to focus? Are we incapable of separating fact from fiction, fantasy from reality, like from love? Has life become so easy we have lost interest in anything lasting? Is there such a thing as forever?

Bullfight

As a general rule I like to be told what to do. It's just easier; less thinking involved. Plus, if something goes drastically wrong I can always blame someone else. This isn't to say I like to be bullied around by a know-ti-all, but an authoritative figure to point me in the right direction is greatly appreciated.

Recently I've been trying to take charge of my own life and boldly go where I've never gone before. The changes are minor, but I made them of my own free will. Things were going smoothly with my newly found freedom until I booked a trip to Mexico. Not wanting to spend my life savings on a four day get-a-way I opted to stay in a 3-star hotel and rent a car to drive myself around town rather than book any excursion with the overpriced concierge service my friends were using. This was all well and good until I got lost on my way to the bull fights where I was to meet my comrades for a day of margaritas and matadors. I found myself in a very seedy part of town I'm sure I had seen before on Dateline. Not wanting to become the latest victim in a Missing American scandal I dumped the car and hitched a taxi back to the hotel. $120.00 later I arrived safely in the hotel lobby where I quickly ordered a triple anything and put myself to bed. Six hours and four Tylenol later I awoke wondering what had gone wrong. How is it that changing our personality can be so difficult? Are we not the creators of our own destiny? And if we are, how can be grab it by the horns and not be impaled?

Bills, Bills, Bills

Upon receiving my credit card bill for the week of weakness in which I bought my family dinner, my mailman a massage and myself he entire spring collection, I realized credit is a wonderful thing -- for the creditors. By the time I add interest and late fees, I will have spent enough to purchase Puerto Rico and a luxury cruise liner to sail there. Oh, well. . . "You only live once," as my friend, Tommy says. Of course, the collection agencies have his number on speed dial.

When I was a kid my parents gave me wonderful pearls of wisdom. Words like, "Any job worth doing is worth doing right," still ring true. Others, such as, "Coffee stunts your growth," have proven to be completely false. The judgement is still out for some as in, "Algebra teaches you complex thinking," and "It's the thought that counts," are still in debate. I mean, I think about going to the gym every time I drive by it in my way to the bakery for my morning strudel, and I realize I should only dream about walk-in closets filled with designer labels, but is thinking about it enough? Is it necessary to put all one's energy into becoming something or does that close the doors to other opportunities? Should one look before leaping or in contemplation an excuse for fear? When it comes to life decisions. . . is it really the thought that counts?

Wrongs and Rights

I confess, I have cheated on a few things in life -- Geometry tests, college exams, tax refunds, nothing out of the ordinary. But the thoughts of cheating on my partner have never occurred to me. Sure, I've seen the scenarios on Lifetime movies and have watched the events unfold in the relationships of friends around me, but I could never quite imagine myself as an adulterer for a few different reasons. First and foremost I am a horrible liar. Secondly, the scarlet letter doesn't match a thing I own.

Unfortunately this sense of fidelity hasn't always worked in a two-way fashion. I have been cheated on and have managed to find it in my heart to forgive time and again. This being said, I've envisioned my mate's demise in many a gruesome fashion knowing I would be completely devastated without him. Yet I cannot bring myself to return the unfaithful favor assured by the thought that two wrongs don't make a right. Still I wonder, if they don't make it right, do they at least make it fair?