Men aren't dogs... they're more like cats.

Where did the association between men and dogs come from, anyway? Dogs have a bad rep when it comes to men and the comparison drawn between members of the opposite sex and their canine counterparts. Sure, dog might be man’s best friend, but behavior-wise, I say men are far more like cats. That’s not necessarily a good thing. What perpetrated this rant, you ask? A variety of observations as well as recent and ancient encounters with guys (both negative and positive) that collected in my brain to produce this. I don’t believe that all men are like this, I’m just trying to prove a point that when a man is associated with an animal, the cat is actually more apt of a description.

 Here’s why:

Intelligent. Their conniving intelligence is awe-inspiring. No really, it is. You might think that I’m giving them too much credit, but really, I don’t think we give them enough.  They know exactly what they want, they just sometimes pretend to be stupid so that they can get it. From the beginning, guys just know what it is they want, and are often single-minded in their pursuit of getting that. While it may be something material like an expensive car, this also applies to women. I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it, it sucks, but such is life. Now once they get that thing in particular, they want to move on to something else, something new, something different. A better version of that car perhaps, a newer model. Again, it happens, nothing we can do about it. If guys were more like dogs, their intelligence would be limited, and they would be unthinkingly happy once they got what they wanted. Have you ever played fetch with a dog? They never tire of that game because it makes them so happy, they only stop to sleep, and when they wake it starts all over again. Their simple stance on happiness is quite refreshing, if a little boring.

We clean up after their shit. Literally and otherwise. Stupidly, we choose to do it. ‘Oh, but he’s so cute! And look how he’s so loving! Of course I’ll clean up after him if I can keep him!’ While that may sound like I’m reducing women to nothing but brainless bimbos, the fact is that it’s true. Something in our brains is just preprogrammed to want to accept their shit in our lives. With a dog, it’s more of a legal obligation than a choice in accepting that responsibility. Don’t ask me why we choose to do it, I don’t understand it myself. It’s a conundrum, really, and one that is enough to be its own focus for a future post.

Hit it and quit it. While a cat might not follow that exact term, they do like to play when it’s convenient for them, and then peace out when they’ve had enough. A cat will rub against your leg, get your attention, and then when you give him enough scratching behind the ears, he’s gone to go fulfill another need. I feel like I have to mention again that this isn’t meant to encompass all men, just the ones that we would commonly refer to as ‘dogs’. I’m not trying to bash the entire male race, I’m just saying give the dog a bone and leave him alone, because the cat is the one you’ve got to look out for.  

I feel sorry for the dog. There’s no need to feel sorry for the cat. They’ve got it made. Just sayin’.

Adventures in Writing Land

So, my writing partner in crime and I seem to have the same problem when it comes to completing a book: we can’t finish one. I’ve just read her blog (writingsawitch@blogspot.com) and I found myself making comparisons to my own writing journey, so I decided to share my thoughts on the subject.

She’s absolutely right, writing a book is not an easy task. It’s been on my To-Do List and my New Year’s Resolution’s List for the past few years, and I’ve yet to actually check that one off. I expected it to be difficult, but sometimes it’s like I’m extracting teeth from my own head, and it hurts and I just want to stop for a while and let my head rest. But I can’t. I know I have to keep going. Even if I don’t want to, even if I want to sleep or read or play video games or some other form of distraction, I know I can’t let all of that get in the way. But I’ll still pout about it from time to time.

There’s a difference, too, between writing a book and writing a publishable book. Writers are perfectionists and the worst when it comes to self criticisms. We are way too analytical for our own good, and nothing is ever finished, not really. For us, when something is turned in (i.e. an essay, an article) we still cringe days later when we go back a reread what we turned in, wishing that we would have added this or taken this sentence out. It’s annoying and frustrating, but so set in our natures that we cannot help it. And would we really want it any other way? It’s good to not settle, and to always strive for the next level, even if it’s irritating. Right? I know when I post on my blog, I’ll go back and reread it and edit it if there are any errors that I catch (or that my roommate catches) because I’d rather not be judged by how I’ve written but what I’ve written instead.

Back to the discussion at hand, my friend and I have had the same issue with this whole writing a book thing, only she’s continued with primarily one idea this entire time, while I’ve gone from five different stories of varying variety and can’t seem to land on one long enough to write something worthy of continuing. Ugh. I’ve described it before by saying that I have a sort of ADHD when it comes to writing. There are few days that go by where I don’t write, but it’s mostly blogging and not on one of the many book ideas I have. I haven’t lost heart yet, I’m still diligently plugging away at ideas, but I think that my numero uno problem is that I don’t have one solid idea. I’ve got tons of little pictures in my head for several different characters and plot lines, but there isn’t one set world that stands out in my mind as something that I can write solidly from. I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense. Some writers describe their book writing experience as being handed a perfectly wrapped gift, and everything unfolds neatly and prettily in their minds, so they are able to put to pen and paper exactly what they want to convey from the very beginning. As lovely as that is, my brain does not work in that way. At all. There are a bunch of half-wrapped, partially buried, some chewed on presents scattered around the floor beneath the tree that might contain something pretty, but it’s very hard to see. In fact, it’s so hard to tell what’s hiding in there, that I hesitate to poke my hand around for fear of what I might pull out. My brain is not neat, it is not orderly, but it’s the only one I’ve got, so I better start digging.

I just hope someone will drive me to the hospital if I pull my hand out and a few fingers are missing.

Work-Filled Days, Karaoke Nights

Busy. That’s an understated word used to describe my life. A thesaurus might say: full of activity, demanding, hectic, eventful. All of those apply, and more. No complaints here, either, I appreciate the turn my life has taken, and I love everything that I’m doing right now. I only wish there were twelve more hours in the day because I hate to have to tell someone ‘Maybe next week we can get together,’ or ‘I can stop by between work and a meeting for an hour…’ oh well. Nothing can change that fact unless I can track down one of those nifty time-shifting necklaces Hermione has in The Prisoner of Azkaban. Note to friends: that would be an excellent Christmas gift. Just sayin’.

In between my ever changing work schedule, two classes at the dojo, and writing, I’ve managed to fill up my extra time (haha, there’s not much of it) with graduation parties and going away parties lately. Needless to say, I’ve had the most fun in the past week than I have in the past few months, so a big THANK YOU to all of my friends who have hosted these life-transition shindigs. It’s been fun. And in its own way, it’s been a life transition for me, as well. For the first time, I did karaoke last night, and it wasn’t as frighteningly debilitating as I thought it was going to be. I always pictured myself standing in front of a crowd and barely squeaking something out as people booed me off the stage. I’m happy to say that that did not happen, and I’m still in one piece. My voice, on the other hand, is raspy and my throat a bit raw this morning, but it was worth it. It was my friend’s going away party last night and, in my whiskey haze, I agreed to go on stage and perform Lady Marmalade from Moulin Rouge. I did not relish being in the spotlight, quite literally there were lights shining down on us from a real stage, but I did enjoy belting out one of my favorite songs. Before we went on, my friends and I made the observation that a performance is based on how many people come and dance and cheer you on (there were a few where no one was on the dance floor…and once or twice where the music just kind of faded out…yeah that was a little sad) and all I hoped for was that we didn’t have an empty dance floor. When they called us out, I decided to focus, not look at the crowd, and just remember the words to the song that I’ve sung a thousand times, and so I did. My lovely co-singers decided to peace out on the singing in the beginning of the song (there are five parts to the song and there were three of us) so I did the best I could despite the range difference and the rapping and by the end of the song, we had a decently populated dance floor and some stunned friends. It was pretty awesome. Not something I’m going to do every weekend, but fun and exhilarating nonetheless.

I met up with some friends from work this morning for a much needed hearty, greasy breakfast and while we were being seated, we noticed a group of four guys sitting across from us, one of which was wearing a glittery flashing tiara and a colorful lei, and they were all wearing a bleary-eyed smile as they recounted the bachelor party they had come down for the night before. That scene made my day. It was good to know that I wasn’t the only one that had an amazing night followed by a fantastic morning with friends. I don’t think people take enough time to have fun, myself included, and the last week has shown me that even if I’m busy, even if I think I don’t have time, there are ways to shift things around and rearrange schedules in order to do what’s most important: to not live a stagnant, predictable life. There was no way when I got up yesterday morning at 545 for my morning workout class that I thought I’d be doing karaoke 19 hours later. I never expected to make it a nearly 24 hour day of nonstop fun and unplanned adventure. Even though I got less than six hours of sleep and I’m starting my eight hour closing shift in a few minutes, I don’t regret a single second of yesterday. Sleep can wait, life can’t.

Six months down, six more to go!

Half way through the year already… I’m kind of freaking out a little. Side note: I’ve heard that only women use the term, ‘A little,’ in their writing. I wonder what men use instead? Anyways, half way through the year and I feel that I’ve so much more to accomplish, and it’s making me nervous. My three New Year’s resolutions were: Finish writing a draft of a book, keep up with my kickboxing and total body fitness classes, and go on a date. So far, one of those goals I’ve surpassed my own expectations, another one I’ve been diligently working on but it’s not quite there yet, and the other one is not even close to being accomplished. Betchya can’t guess which one is which!

My fitness goals for the year have been amazing and I’ve continued my second class for over six months now despite having to get up at 545 four times a week. My upstairs neighbors make getting up that early even better because they are constantly playing music until way past midnight and they pound on the walls at random times during the night… I so don’t want to know what they’re doing. My roommate thinks that there’s some sort of sex trade or private stripper dances going on since the music doesn’t start until after 10 and there are a bunch of men that go up there… I can’t say that she’s way off target either because our interactions with them have been strange at best. Anywho, I just recently acquired my brown belt in Muay Thai Kickboxing, and am now a part of this year’s black belt candidates, so my continuous fitness education can only get better from here. Fitness resolution: CHECK!

As for writing a draft of a book… well I was roughly 125 pages into the first one when I realized that I had a different story that needed to come out instead. I swear I flip my concentration so much that I might have ADHD or something, but I’m working on calming myself down. The current story I have is roughly 30 pages, but I still have another 6 months to work through it and produce roughly 300 pages of writing… ya it’s a hefty goal, but not completely impossible. My blogging, on the other hand, has maintained a certain consistency for the past month or so, which has been helpful. The introduction of ‘Dear You,’ has helped to get some feelings out that were either unacknowledged or harbored for way too long, and not only has that been a cheap therapy session for me, I think some quality writing has come out of it. I’ve also rekindled relationships through it too, which was an unexpected and much appreciated bonus. One of my best friends said that she likes the way that she can relate some of them to her life, because a lot of them are nonspecific in detail, and the generalizations allow for her to imagine that it’s someone she knows, and I loved that comment. That’s the best thing I’ve heard so far about any of my pieces, because I want to reach out to people through my writing and that fact just brings me closer to my readers. Thanks to everyone that’s stayed with me! I just reached 1,000 views yesterday, and that made me very happy! Writing resolution: PARTIAL CHECK!

Okay, the third resolution… I’ve thought about giving it up, I’ve thought about rewording it, I’ve thought a lot about it and have decided that it wouldn’t be fair to myself to give up just yet. However, I’ve also concluded that I can’t go on a date with someone when I haven’t met anyone dateable. I don’t mean that I haven’t met sweet, good guys that like me, I have, and I appreciate and am flattered by your attentions, but I know I’m not right for you, and I know you know it as well. I haven’t met a guy where I’ve been like, “Whoa, I have to get to know this person and I want what they want in life!” There hasn’t been a single guy that has been brought to my attention where I’ve felt that I connected with them enough to warrant a date. I don’t think there are many of those left in my city, and that worries me. There has been one guy in the past year and a half that I’ve been remotely interested in, but low and behold, he’s got a girlfriend. Of course. But that’s besides the point. I know that there have to be more guys out there (and by ‘guys’ I mean men, not boys or young twenty-something man-child wanna be men who can’t keep a job or who still depend on their parents for everything) and I know I’m going to have to search carefully and thoroughly through the few remaining guys left here, it’s a bit of a process though. My roommate said that I need to go to places that I’m interested in (i.e. the bookstore) to find suitable single guys, but I frequent the local Barnes and Noble enough to blow an entire paycheck, and I haven’t met or seen one. So, my question now is, ‘Where are all the decent single guys?’ cuz I don’t know. And I don’t think I’m the only one. Date resolution: NOT EVEN A HINT OF A CHECK, OR DASH, OR, well, you get the picture ^_^