Cafe Hitch-hike


Stepping back, stepping forward

I did something I often don't do, and I asked someone if they wanted to go out. I usually wait for others to make the first move about hanging out, but I decided I was going to gradually try to initiate. A couple of shows will be taking place these next 2 weeks, and I reached out to Joliet Jake from the month of May to see if he wanted to do. The bands didn't interest him, but he invited me to see Rascal Flatts because he had another ticket, and so we went.

It was cool seeing the show together and I liked the music so much as to dance to it quite a bit. I finally looked at my body and noticed it was swaying (that is, dancing and not necessarily drunk swaying) much more than I felt it was. Rascal Flatts is actually a bubble-gum, pop kind of country. I thought I was going to see a bunch of people with cowboy hats and pick up trucks, but no... Rascal Flatts has a very young following. I wore a black Jack Daniels-styled tank top, black stretch jeans, and the black cowboy boots with silver tips that my Aunt Juana gave me.

Joliet J. and I got caught up and all. I told him of my work matters, and I recalled that he said my work sounded really nerdy and not in a flattering way. It sounded like he was hanging out with these guys who partied a lot and did a lot of 'things that kept them going all night,' in his own words. Yeah, coke is another part of the South Florida party scene and I hoped he wasn't getting too caught up in it. We hung out and although I liked going to the show, the chemistry fell flat again. I shrugged, he's about 10 years younger than me and he's busy doing the things divorced guys in their mid-30s do to find themselves. I enjoyed our time, but once again, we were really into different scenes and also phases in life. Now I know how older guy friends of mine felt when they described what it was like to meet and date cute younger women, but felt no sense of connection or commonalities past the initial attraction.

Anyhow, Joliet J. at least was eager to hang. I'll baby-step initiating social outings a little more.

I decided I wanted to upgrade my living room so it looked more grown-up. I have some grown-up pieces mixed with some Ikea pieces. I use a short file cabinet as an end table and ottomans as a coffee table, so I decided to see the possibilities. As I examined my space and use of it, well, the arrangement I have now works pretty well! There actually is a method to my madness.

Since I don't have tons of space, I kind of have to incorporate an office/work space in my dining area. I use my dinner table as office space when needed, and behind it is a book shelf that has a mix of framed photos, knick-knacks, and professional books like dictionaries, thesauri, and holy texts. I thought of moving it into my living area, but I decided I didn't want to look at it often and be reminded of work.

Anyhow, instead of getting furniture, I got new lighting and then ordered some stuff for the walls. I've been accumulating musical instruments which can be played, and I've been hanging them up on the walls like decorative pieces but can easily be removed. I hung up the flute that I got as a gift from an old roommate, and I wanted to order a ukulele. I have a rattle, I'm not sure where it's from but has some type of indigenous artwork on it. Hey, why not have a jam session in my living room?

I decided to put any thoughts of going back to grad school on ice. I didn't say 'no,' but I want to wait on some other things before making my decision. I had some chats with friends who got their doctorates, and their advice was such programs take everything one's got. They also said it was important to go someplace that I really liked, both in terms of location and the people I'd be working with.

(Much, much, much later) Is this a serious case of deja vu? I'm listening to Soup Dragons and related bands while (almost) frantically writing a very long work-related document (thank you so much, blasted promotion process). The only difference is I'm pecking away on my laptop on a humid night on the patio of the Cannabis Condo, and not in some computer lab in a freezing cold basement at the University of the Rust Belt State.

I don't feel the bags under my eyes or dryness in them. I definitely feel the lines etch deeper my forehead; I guess I raise my eyebrows alot when I'm excited or super-attentive. I'm still doing this at a decent hour rather than 3:30 a.m. I now just walk a few feet into my air conditioned casa and cool, soft bed rather than trudge through a few inches of snow on my way to my raggedy Plymouth Reliant that never seemed to get warm.

Well, instead of fantasizing about sex like I did an awful lot while at URBS, I actually had a lovely time the other night with a highly skilled fella (emphasis: skilled, I'll take skilled over other supposedly desired attributes in that department). I got to take a break when he called me. I really didn't mind, I needed the breather (and maybe make plans to breathe hard again in the near future...? Heh-heh.).

Ok, I'm finished with my writing. I do feel the same sense of tired relief of finishing what I needed to do. Now, the dog is telling me it's time to go to bed. Night-night!!

downwind | upstream