Blogs are a good place for random dreams, right? Especially random dreams involving professional tennis players. So here goes. The dream that almost made me late for work this morning.
In the dream, I was apparently a professional tennis player myself, and I think I specialized in mixed doubles. (Which makes A LOT of sense.) Anyway, my doubles partner was none other than my tennis love, John Isner (who, coincidentally, broke into the top ten recently after an epic run at Indian Wells). Our match was taking place in the foyer of a house. I vaguely remember that we were playing Novak Djokovic, and I was struggling a bit against him (which also makes a lot of sense, considering that he's Novak Djokovic). No worries, though. John hit a wicked ace to seal the match. At which point I couldn't contain my joy and jumped on his back in celebration. As the euphoria subsided, I descended from this piggy-back ride and he gently took my hand.
Sigh.
But then, out of nowhere, this platinum blonde woman, who I knew instinctively in the dream as a tennis official of some sort, came up to us and told us that it is against the regulations for team members to date. John wanted to rebel and be in love anyway, but I released his hand so we could talk about it. This led to a big misunderstanding, and I ended up walking away hurt.
I must have gone to my thinking place, which turned out to be the hammock of a jungle gym shaped like a pirate ship which was on top of this tennis-house. But I couldn't even rest there because as soon as I got settled, actual pirates started to cut the ropes holding my hammock up. I'm fairly certain I woke up the instant the hammock toppled over and dropped me.
Effectively ending my relationship with John Isner. But maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe he'll come courting again tonight. I did have that series of dreams in eighth grade that Matt Damon was stalking me. This can't be that different.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
First Impressions
I think I stink at these.
I think I stink so bad at these that I have self-discovered a new syndrome.
I have entitled this syndrome, "Post-First-Date Panic."
Post-First-Date Panic, or PFDP, is characterized by excessive preoccupation with desire for a second date, intense worry over what to include in the post-date text and when to send it, inability to halt over-analysis of minute of moments of said first-date, and fixation on past first-dating history of both bad dates that led to second dates and good dates that didn't.
Are there any other PFDP sufferers out there? Any advice from recovering patients? (And please don't say patience.)
I first noticed the symptoms last year at this time, a time when I felt I was in a good place, both ready and eager for a relationship. That was when I went through a string of first dates, some better than others, but none of which led to second dates. And then there was the summer of The Boy Who Called Once A Month, the effects of which intensified my PFDP.
But I thought I had worked through it all. I thought I had told myself, "Self, this time you are okay letting the process happen. You are not going to begin doubting the possibility of a second date the moment the first date comes to an end." But my self didn't hear. Because I'm totally doing it.
We met for lunch. I was totally myself. We had good conversation. He wasn't creepy, or oddly proportioned, or off-putting in anyway. And I found myself thinking, mid-date, "Hey, I can be noticed by non-creepy, normal, nice, decent guys."
Per the advice of friends, I was clear at the end of the date that I'd be open to a second. But I can never read their reaction to that openness. Because there's always a little tentativeness behind it. Was his yes an I-agree-yes, or just an I'm-trying-to-be-nice-yes?
And I won't know until he does...or doesn't...call me again.
And in the meantime, I start wondering about the first impression that I make. Because, here it is, readers. Today, I looked good. I made pleasant conversation. I was articulate and intelligent. I was witty. I may have used too many hand motions, but I think I was just who you should be on a first date: myself. And if that's true and I don't get a second date, then...
Then someone will need to stop me from drawing the conclusion--entirely based on logical fallacy--that I make a bad first impression as myself and that I'll need to be someone else if this dating thing is ever going to work.
And then we'll have to keep working on finding the cure for PFDP. 'Cause that stuff is nasty.
I think I stink so bad at these that I have self-discovered a new syndrome.
I have entitled this syndrome, "Post-First-Date Panic."
Post-First-Date Panic, or PFDP, is characterized by excessive preoccupation with desire for a second date, intense worry over what to include in the post-date text and when to send it, inability to halt over-analysis of minute of moments of said first-date, and fixation on past first-dating history of both bad dates that led to second dates and good dates that didn't.
Are there any other PFDP sufferers out there? Any advice from recovering patients? (And please don't say patience.)
I first noticed the symptoms last year at this time, a time when I felt I was in a good place, both ready and eager for a relationship. That was when I went through a string of first dates, some better than others, but none of which led to second dates. And then there was the summer of The Boy Who Called Once A Month, the effects of which intensified my PFDP.
But I thought I had worked through it all. I thought I had told myself, "Self, this time you are okay letting the process happen. You are not going to begin doubting the possibility of a second date the moment the first date comes to an end." But my self didn't hear. Because I'm totally doing it.
We met for lunch. I was totally myself. We had good conversation. He wasn't creepy, or oddly proportioned, or off-putting in anyway. And I found myself thinking, mid-date, "Hey, I can be noticed by non-creepy, normal, nice, decent guys."
Per the advice of friends, I was clear at the end of the date that I'd be open to a second. But I can never read their reaction to that openness. Because there's always a little tentativeness behind it. Was his yes an I-agree-yes, or just an I'm-trying-to-be-nice-yes?
And I won't know until he does...or doesn't...call me again.
And in the meantime, I start wondering about the first impression that I make. Because, here it is, readers. Today, I looked good. I made pleasant conversation. I was articulate and intelligent. I was witty. I may have used too many hand motions, but I think I was just who you should be on a first date: myself. And if that's true and I don't get a second date, then...
Then someone will need to stop me from drawing the conclusion--entirely based on logical fallacy--that I make a bad first impression as myself and that I'll need to be someone else if this dating thing is ever going to work.
And then we'll have to keep working on finding the cure for PFDP. 'Cause that stuff is nasty.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Rude People
Maybe rude is a bit harsh, but there are worse adjectives I could use. Last night, I finally went to see Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows with my roommate. Granted, it was a sold out show at the dollar theater in town, so I knew it was going to be crowded, but in some ways that makes these people seem more rude.
My roommate and I arrived plenty early to get good seats. But we were just a tad too early, so we had to wait in the line to get into the theater. After we've waited for a few minutes, nothing to get stirred up about, the theater opens and they start letting us through. Only there are two lines, side-by-side, so the ticket attendant is having a hard time telling the people in the first line to wait. So this family of six who just arrived gets to go before us. And they know it, too. I could see it in their faces.
Strike one.
This annoyance wasn't actually a problem, since we still got great seats in the middle of the theater, where we proceeded to wait for the start of the movie. Our row has nine seats in it, and we're sitting in seats three and four from the left. A couple comes in and sits in seven and eight, and the woman puts her coat on the sixth seat right next to her. It clearly looks like she's saving it for a friend.
But she wasn't! All through that opening promo movie and the previews, the Love Couple are playing on their smart phones and not interacting. At. All. And literally dozens of people are filling into the theater, and it's getting more and more crowded, and they are not moving in or moving their coats or even being asked if they are saving seats (presumably because they look "occupied" playing on their smart phones). Eventually the movie starts, and they are still on their phones for the five minute opening sequence. And they never shared their seats that they were so NOT saving for friends.
Strike two.
My roommate and I have moved into seats four and five by this time because a tall guy was sitting in front of her. Right before the movie starts, a lone man in his sixties comes and takes the open seat on my roommate's left. And three minutes in, he starts snoring. Loudly. Rhythmically. Nonstop. He sometimes would jolt awake and blow his nose even louder, offering a three to five minute reprieve. But basically for the whole movie, the old guy is snoring next to us.
Strike three.
So, when you ask me if I liked Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, I may not know how to answer. I had a hard time following it amid all the distractions.
What are the rules of movie theater etiquette? Why, it's elementary, my dear Watson.
1. Don't cut people in line.
2. Don't save seats for imaginary people. Not even if you are Wills and Kate, the only couple I could think of that might need a public buffer.
3. Don't use your phones to avoid being asked if you are saving those seats.
4. Don't use your phones during the actual movie.
5. Don't snore.
My roommate and I arrived plenty early to get good seats. But we were just a tad too early, so we had to wait in the line to get into the theater. After we've waited for a few minutes, nothing to get stirred up about, the theater opens and they start letting us through. Only there are two lines, side-by-side, so the ticket attendant is having a hard time telling the people in the first line to wait. So this family of six who just arrived gets to go before us. And they know it, too. I could see it in their faces.
Strike one.
This annoyance wasn't actually a problem, since we still got great seats in the middle of the theater, where we proceeded to wait for the start of the movie. Our row has nine seats in it, and we're sitting in seats three and four from the left. A couple comes in and sits in seven and eight, and the woman puts her coat on the sixth seat right next to her. It clearly looks like she's saving it for a friend.
But she wasn't! All through that opening promo movie and the previews, the Love Couple are playing on their smart phones and not interacting. At. All. And literally dozens of people are filling into the theater, and it's getting more and more crowded, and they are not moving in or moving their coats or even being asked if they are saving seats (presumably because they look "occupied" playing on their smart phones). Eventually the movie starts, and they are still on their phones for the five minute opening sequence. And they never shared their seats that they were so NOT saving for friends.
Strike two.
My roommate and I have moved into seats four and five by this time because a tall guy was sitting in front of her. Right before the movie starts, a lone man in his sixties comes and takes the open seat on my roommate's left. And three minutes in, he starts snoring. Loudly. Rhythmically. Nonstop. He sometimes would jolt awake and blow his nose even louder, offering a three to five minute reprieve. But basically for the whole movie, the old guy is snoring next to us.
Strike three.
So, when you ask me if I liked Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, I may not know how to answer. I had a hard time following it amid all the distractions.
What are the rules of movie theater etiquette? Why, it's elementary, my dear Watson.
1. Don't cut people in line.
2. Don't save seats for imaginary people. Not even if you are Wills and Kate, the only couple I could think of that might need a public buffer.
3. Don't use your phones to avoid being asked if you are saving those seats.
4. Don't use your phones during the actual movie.
5. Don't snore.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Race to the Finish Line
Just thought of the perfect idea for a graduation party. It will require my Michael Phelps 2008 Olympic highlights DVD. Also, that Michael Phelps calendar I have.
Because we're talking a "Race to the Finish Line" graduation party.
Games: Measure your wingspan against Michael's. Sip a Sonic drink faster than your opponent. Tag team relay races of some kind. Make your best super-stoked full-body expression. And the like.
Medals will be awarded. The best of the Phelps will be playing in the background.
Perhaps I could throw in some London-themed elements, too. A ticking Big Ben. Adele and the Beatles. Appearances by Wills and Kate (and Harry).
No, there will not be bongs.
Any other ideas?
Because we're talking a "Race to the Finish Line" graduation party.
Games: Measure your wingspan against Michael's. Sip a Sonic drink faster than your opponent. Tag team relay races of some kind. Make your best super-stoked full-body expression. And the like.
Medals will be awarded. The best of the Phelps will be playing in the background.
Perhaps I could throw in some London-themed elements, too. A ticking Big Ben. Adele and the Beatles. Appearances by Wills and Kate (and Harry).
Any other ideas?
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Leap Year
Last night, I had one of those fabulous single girl retreats. I stayed in by myself and watched a chick flick. I had high hopes, but they were dashed. Leap Year should have been a great movie: Ireland, Matthew Goode, falling in love during forced togetherness, Matthew Goode, and Ireland.
But no. Too much slap-stick comedy, not enough affection between the leads, and a mundane reason why she should hate her cardiologist boyfriend all add up to me wishing I had watched a tried-and-true romcom instead of venturing into the unknown. The old guys are a poor imitation of the old men in Return to Me, there's NO WAY she had to go from Wales to the west side of Ireland, and they should have spent more time in his pub. Plus, Matthew Goode badly needs to shave. Ultimately, the notion of a woman proposing to a man is rather dumb, and I don't really think that a guy would walk away without saying a word after a woman proclaims his love for him if he really intends to ask her to marry him ten minutes later.
But it did make me yearn for Ireland as I haven't in years! I swear, if I'm still single in five years, I'm going to grad school in Dublin, no matter the cost. See below for reasons why.
Instead of going to Leap Year for your Ireland or Matthew Goode fix, I recommend a Maeve Binchy novel for the Ireland and a better Matthew Goode road trip movie, Chasing Liberty. Hey, at least there's Venice in that one.
I suppose I'll have to wait until 2013 for a story that does right by the woman-proposes-to-man storyline. I first read the lovely Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society novel a year ago, and when I found out today that a movie is in the works (starring Kate Winslet and directed by Kenneth Branagh) I also yearned to return to Guernsey island. Which I intend to do, at least on the page until the movie arrives.
As a final thought on Leap Year Day and women proposing, I have this romcom script wandering around in my head about a couple that elopes in Vegas on Leap Year Day, and thus only has to celebrate their anniversary every four years. And that's all I've got so far, so don't steal it...although I can't really stop you since ideas are not copyrightable--the way they're put together is.
Which means that Hayden Christensen and his brother are crazy for suing USA Network for "stealing" their idea for a series about a concierge doctor and making Royal Pains. Hayden, if you want the credit, you should go to the network with a pilot, not just a plot line.
And while we're on the subject of movie scripts I'm going to write someday, here's a few more ideas I have bouncing around in my head and off of each other.
The love story of Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning; a Victorian romance a la Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice with the added bonus of being "based on a true story." The poet who penned "My Last Duchess" finds his first wife in a reclusive, sickly, home schooled girl, and she begins counting all the ways she loves him and his ability to get her out of the house.
A romcom writer's love story: Oddly, this is partly inspired by one of the most overplayed-on-TBS romcoms ever, The Wedding Planner (featuring, who knew, Pete Sampras's wife as Matthew McConaughey's soon-to-be-left-at-the-altar fiancee). Remember the line when J.Lo says she's a wedding planner because she can't get married herself? Well, this is the same idea, but with a romcom screenwriter who knows all the tricks and turns big screen love is supposed to take and is therefore skeptical when the pattern begins happening in her own life. I see this movie as a fun but also satirical way to comment on the failings and successes of the romcom genre.
Murphy's Law: This is a joint effort with my mom and my sister, planned sometime over the summer. A young woman goes by her last name, Murphy, amongst her mostly male friends, but never seems to have romance in her life. She works in some dinky job (e.g. dollar store clerk) but wants to break free, blah blah blah. I'm kind of drawing a blank right now, but this was a really great story when we originally conceived it. Do you remember any more, Cardigan Girl or Front Porch Friend?
Blarney: A woman living in Ireland reluctantly goes with her girlfriends to visit the Blarney Stone (perhaps on a regular basis? yearly?). She meets a man whose talk is full of flattery for her, but she thinks its just blarney. This movie will also feature a kiss that comes after great obstacles, since the Blarney Stone is notoriously difficult to kiss.
But no. Too much slap-stick comedy, not enough affection between the leads, and a mundane reason why she should hate her cardiologist boyfriend all add up to me wishing I had watched a tried-and-true romcom instead of venturing into the unknown. The old guys are a poor imitation of the old men in Return to Me, there's NO WAY she had to go from Wales to the west side of Ireland, and they should have spent more time in his pub. Plus, Matthew Goode badly needs to shave. Ultimately, the notion of a woman proposing to a man is rather dumb, and I don't really think that a guy would walk away without saying a word after a woman proclaims his love for him if he really intends to ask her to marry him ten minutes later.
But it did make me yearn for Ireland as I haven't in years! I swear, if I'm still single in five years, I'm going to grad school in Dublin, no matter the cost. See below for reasons why.
Instead of going to Leap Year for your Ireland or Matthew Goode fix, I recommend a Maeve Binchy novel for the Ireland and a better Matthew Goode road trip movie, Chasing Liberty. Hey, at least there's Venice in that one.
I suppose I'll have to wait until 2013 for a story that does right by the woman-proposes-to-man storyline. I first read the lovely Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society novel a year ago, and when I found out today that a movie is in the works (starring Kate Winslet and directed by Kenneth Branagh) I also yearned to return to Guernsey island. Which I intend to do, at least on the page until the movie arrives.
As a final thought on Leap Year Day and women proposing, I have this romcom script wandering around in my head about a couple that elopes in Vegas on Leap Year Day, and thus only has to celebrate their anniversary every four years. And that's all I've got so far, so don't steal it...although I can't really stop you since ideas are not copyrightable--the way they're put together is.
Which means that Hayden Christensen and his brother are crazy for suing USA Network for "stealing" their idea for a series about a concierge doctor and making Royal Pains. Hayden, if you want the credit, you should go to the network with a pilot, not just a plot line.
And while we're on the subject of movie scripts I'm going to write someday, here's a few more ideas I have bouncing around in my head and off of each other.
The love story of Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning; a Victorian romance a la Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice with the added bonus of being "based on a true story." The poet who penned "My Last Duchess" finds his first wife in a reclusive, sickly, home schooled girl, and she begins counting all the ways she loves him and his ability to get her out of the house.
A romcom writer's love story: Oddly, this is partly inspired by one of the most overplayed-on-TBS romcoms ever, The Wedding Planner (featuring, who knew, Pete Sampras's wife as Matthew McConaughey's soon-to-be-left-at-the-altar fiancee). Remember the line when J.Lo says she's a wedding planner because she can't get married herself? Well, this is the same idea, but with a romcom screenwriter who knows all the tricks and turns big screen love is supposed to take and is therefore skeptical when the pattern begins happening in her own life. I see this movie as a fun but also satirical way to comment on the failings and successes of the romcom genre.
Murphy's Law: This is a joint effort with my mom and my sister, planned sometime over the summer. A young woman goes by her last name, Murphy, amongst her mostly male friends, but never seems to have romance in her life. She works in some dinky job (e.g. dollar store clerk) but wants to break free, blah blah blah. I'm kind of drawing a blank right now, but this was a really great story when we originally conceived it. Do you remember any more, Cardigan Girl or Front Porch Friend?
Blarney: A woman living in Ireland reluctantly goes with her girlfriends to visit the Blarney Stone (perhaps on a regular basis? yearly?). She meets a man whose talk is full of flattery for her, but she thinks its just blarney. This movie will also feature a kiss that comes after great obstacles, since the Blarney Stone is notoriously difficult to kiss.
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