Creative Planning

Last Thursday I went shopping with Sarah and spent money I didn't have on things I didn't need. I justified this with the fact that the weekend was coming and I couldn't possibly live without a new outfit to greet it in, plus I got paid on Monday so if I wrote a bum check it surely wouldn't clear until I had funds available. Over the years I have gotten quite creative with ways to get what I want. It's all a matter of planning. If I want a new pair of shoes, I send my cable bill on time but conveniently forget to sign the check, they send it back to me and I return it with a signature and a sincere apology all before the grace period is up -- no harm no foul, everyone gets what they want.

Sometimes though, no matter how sly I think I am, or how much energy I spend in the planning stages, I get caught in my own web. For instance, when I try to pre-prepare an argument with my boyfriend. I map the whole conversation out in my head -- I'll say this then he'll say that then I'll really tell him off. Good in theory, not so good in practice. We can guesstimate certain things in life, like how long a check takes to get from A to B, but can we really plan for an unpredictable future. What if things aren't traveling alphabetically, but rather along some uncharted path even the cosmos isn't sure of? Just because you've creatively paid your dues, will the universe grace you with a desirable outcome, or will it just tell you off?

What a Drag

Last week my friend Joel Jones nearly got arrested for drag racing. Even with a bit of Dukes of Hazard know how and a little luck he was unable to escape the law. This isn't the first time the law has intervened in Mr. Jones' life. Joel likes to live on the edge and push the envelope just a bit more than the law will allow. I suppose we are all running from something in our lives. It may not be a policeman or Boss Hog, but what about the taxman, our own boss or even the fear of stopping? We keep on keepin' on in an attempt to keep up with the Joneses. We have a drive that tells us we must work more, get more, be more, but where does it end? When is enough enough? What would happen if we just stopped? Would life really pass us by, or would we be the only ones smart enough to enjoy it? If the Joneses can't keep up with the Joneses why should the Smiths, the Andersons, or anyone else even try? Why can't we just be good ol' boys meaning no harm?

Cease Fire

Last week Sarah spent the night at my house in an attempt to break away from her boyfriend whom she had been fighting with. We spent seven hours drinking and watching old war movies on the History channel. We bonded over Okinawa, slept through trench warfare and popped corn through much of the late 60's. This wasn't the first time we had spent such a night together. She and her boyfriend have a history of their own, and since I am a close ally, she knows she can always count on me to stand by her side and open her beers. That's what friends do -- they hold your hand and help you plan a cease-fire.

As we neared the end of our movie marathon, and peace was once again restored to the world I got to thinking about history. World War I was once called The Great War because it was supposed to be the only one, then came WWII, the Korean conflict, Vietnam, and so on and so forth. It seems there has never been a time of peace. It's the same in relationships -- we break up, make up, but when will we wake up and see how history repeats itself? Will we ever learn our lesson or will we continue making the same mistakes? Is it possible to have peace without confict?

Broken Romance

I've always considered myself idyllic. My personals ad would read, "Single white male seeks same for long walks in the rain, cozy fireside chats and midnight romps." In addition to quiet solitude in a lover's arms, I've continually enjoyed engaging poetry, chick flicks and dainty chocolates. But lately I've been feeling less than dainty -- in fact, I've been feeling down right vicious. I'd like nothing more than to bite the head off a budding rose and spit it at the one who broke my heart. Of course I have too much decorum to actually do this, but it is nice to dream. Still, I wonder if I'll ever regain my passion for love. It seems once a person has been jilted, the damage is always visible. Sure he can move on and perhaps he'll meet a decent mate and have some fun for a while, but what do you do when you don't love love? Is there a 12-step program that can teach us how to regain our powers of passion, or is romance simply a romantic idea?

Burning Hearts

When I was a kid I dreamed I was a cowboy, an astronaut, a hairdresser. My friend Rob imagined himself a firefighter. We'd play together warped versions of "rescue" where he'd save a princess and I'd do her hair. As we grew older and our lives became more narrow, I abandoned my various dreams, while Rob went on to become a dashing fireman.

All was well, if not quite perfect, in our lives when Rob was involved in an accident. Though not fatal, he was injured extensively and unable to continue his tenure as a fireman. The thing is, Rob has and always will have the heart of a fireman. He now has a desk job with the department. He is still holding true to his dream. Me? I've wandered from place to place and left my dreams at every stop. Does this mean my heart isn't true? Is it possible to love more than one thing whole-heartedly? Some people dream of bright futures, others simply dream. Is it possible to do both?

Tourists

My boyfriend and I had been planning our summer vacation for about nine months. We thumbed through brochures and took virtual tours of every beachfront hotel from San Francisco to Singapore. We deserved this after all. We cut back on entertainment costs, adjusted our thermostat, we even switched to the generic brand of macaroni and cheese. Sunshine and crashing waves were going to be our reward for a job well done.

After nine months of bickering with airlines and cursing hotels, I was ready for the promise of paradise to be delivered. And it was, but not before a six hour plane delay and a one and a half hour cab ride through the slums of the island. Driving past the dilapidated buildings and unkempt children made me feel dirty. Not because the surroundings were substandard, but because I assumed they'd be immaculate -- like the brochures, like my under appreciated home. I thought to myself, do I deserve a vacation more than these people deserve clean water? Is it even fair that while I'm basking in the sun at a resort six miles down the road, a woman is giving birth in unsanitary conditions at the very spot I had just past? Sure I labored hard, but so too had these people. I wasn't sure if I should carry out my vacation or abort my plans altogether. It made me wonder, if all men are created equal, why do some have so much more?

"A" is for Age and Adultery

Once upon an English class I found myself oddly attracted to a man almost half my age; he was handsome and fun and seemed a more exciting version of myself -- what's more, he found me desirable. I'm not one who suffers from either low self-esteem or delusions of grandeur, I know exactly who I am, yet I still felt this young fella was out of my league. We met in college and bonded over Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter. Not far into chapter two we began a harmless flirtation that blossomed into an intense, short lived affair. Every time we met we engaged in stimulating conversation that eventually led to a stimulating make-out session. All of this was quite exhilarating for my aging self, but like all good books, our fairy tale ended as we both knew it would.

As the memories of my rendezvous faded from scarlet to pink I began to wonder what attracted me to my playmate to begin with. I'm not one to pine after youth, nor do I have a particular "type" I lust after. There was just something about him that drove me a little bit crazy. Was it his good looks? Was it animalistic chemistry? Or was it something so complex and indescribable that not even science could explain? When it comes to laws of attraction, are there any rules? And if there are, what happens when you break them? Are you branded for life, or do you simply go on to the next chapter and hope for a better conclusion?