clear rants

Have you ever read a book that you never wanted to end? Have you ever been so gripped by a story that you just wanted to be in it forever?

These books are rare–the ones that capture your attention so. You think you are prepared for what you’re in for; perhaps you have read the book jacket or it was recommended by someone you know. But as you carefully and hesitantly open to the first page, a part of you hopes that this will be one of those stories: a saga that will carry you away, that will leave you changed… that you will remember forever. Often, it doesn’t take long to realize what you have in your hands. You are immediately captured by the story, the prose, the promise.

You can’t put it down. You are drawn to it. You stay up all night enthralled by the story within. You lose all sense of time. All you notice–all you anticipate–is the turn of the next page. When you have to put it down for just a moment, your fingers linger on the pages and you carefully remember your place. And when you return, you embrace the story once again.

As you feel yourself become a part of the story, it becomes a part of you. It may inspire you, it may move you to tears, it may even anger you. The more passionate your reaction to the story, the greater its impression. And that’s when you know you’ve got a good one.

That’s how I want it to be with you.

There’s a girl who works in the Controller’s office across the hall.

The first time I saw her, I was dropping something off for her office. There was a new girl sitting at the desk with her head down. I murmured a polite “thank you,” and was ready to trek back to my office (we have long hallways). To my surprise, this amazingly cute girl looked up at me, smiled and replied, “thank you.” I say surprise, because this wasn’t just your ordinary polite-thank-you-smile. This was a light-up-the-whole-motherfucking-room-real-smile. You don’t get those from strangers too often. This began to become a regular occurrence. Every time I saw her, she would flash that heart-stopping smile and all I’d be able to do was grin stupidly in return.

After a couple repeat performances of the above, we started running into each other in the hallway or by the elevator. I’m not sure if you’ve seen “The Naked Man” episode of How I Met Your Mother, but I imagine each of our chance meetings to mirror that of Ted and the elevator girl: each standing and smiling awkwardly, afraid to glance at the other and the elevator brimming over with tension. It’s not as unpleasant as it sounds. But remember, this is how I imagine it to be. I’m sure she just thinks she’s standing in an elevator.

The other day, as I was waiting for the elevator to go home, I hear heels desperately click-clacking all the way down the hallway. The mysterious click-clacker was about to turn the corner and… my god, to see her in motion was a thing of wonder. She was a bit flustered, cheeks twinged with blush, but she managed to give a shy, embarrassed smirk and disclose, “I hate waiting for the elevator!” All I could manage was a knowing nod and a “HOLYFUCKINGSHITSHE’SCUTE” in my head.

This sounds all cute and everything, doesn’t it? “Just ask her out!” you may be thinking. But here’s the kicker: she is approximately three-quarters of a head taller than me. FUCK THAT SHIT. Ugh, stop laughing.

1. On the steps of the World Financial Center
2. In her apartment after watching “The Ring”
-. Drunken Spider-man kiss in Barton during Senior week*
3. In the Barnes and Noble parking lot staircase

* Technically a first kiss, but not really.

I was at sharebee downloading the new Lenka album when a pop-up… uh, popped up.

SHOOT FIVE CANTALOUPES AND WIN A PRIZE!

I moused over it quickly on my way to close it and my mouse turned into a target hovering over a series of cantaloupes slowly rolling from right to left. As I clicked the X button, I wondered what animation they would use for my shooting the cantaloupe? Would the cantaloupe explode when I clicked on it? That might actually be interesting to see.

But alas, I had closed the window already. Now I’ll never know what an exploding cantaloupe looks like. And that, my friends, is what they call regret.

In a recent conversation with a friend, we revisted the many grandiose romantic events from my past relationships. While going through all of these with her, it occurred to me, in my next relationship, would I go to all the same trouble? Do two busy “grown-ups” in this day and age have the time and energy to plan and enjoy a great romantic event?

In high school and college, great displays of affection (I hesitate to say love because, really, how many high school and college kids are really in love?) were the norm. Walking to class, you would see girls’ names written in 20 foot letters in the snow. Boys could be seen shuffling in all directions holding single roses. The most creative and thoughtful gifts were planned months in ahead and constructed with the utmost care. There were secret rendezvouses and midnight walks through the park. Couples walked hand in hand everywhere. Unfortunately, you don’t really hear about such things anymore.

What happened to the romance? As we got older, it seems those homemade works of art have been replaced by single (albeit expensive) purchases from the jewelry store. Couples no longer walk together just for the sake of walking together–in fact, even errands are split between the two in an effort to be more efficient. Too often nowadays, an old-fashioned date: dinner and a movie is already considered to be abnormal, something to be anticipated. Is it because “grown-ups” are too busy to spare time on these romantic dalliances? Or is it simply just a matter of money being more convenient than thoughtfulness and effort?

When we were younger, our limited disposable incomes forced us to be more creative with our gifts. We were forced to be thoughtful. Last I remember, a dozen roses cost $60: almost three month’s income for a high school student. Instead, young romantrepreneurs made comprehensive photo collages and constructed meaningful and thoughtful gifts out of simple art and crafts supplies; they made the most of what was available. Now, on a milestone relationship date, all you have to do is stop by the florist on the way home, drop some cash, and boom, mission accomplished. The most preparation required is to circle the date on your calendar.

Were those romantic gestures of the past simply symptoms of puppy love? Are thoughtful and creative gifts simply unnecessary in an adult relationship? I don’t mean to say that jewelry and weekends in the country aren’t romantic. But sometimes, I think it takes more than just throwing money at someone to show them how much you care–that you really thought about what they would like, that you are actually paying attention to the relationship.

I realize I am oversimplifying. And I do realize that it’s the little things that count. In the long run, grandiose romantic gestures mean nothing. But they are memorable, and without them, I do believe relationships can get a little boring. So here I am, a “grown-up,” holding to all of my hopeless romanticism,  and hoping we haven’t seen the end of the homemade anniversary gift.

I’m not really sure how or why but all of sudden, I’m filled with a great amount of hope.

Hope for love, the future and everything. Today was a good day.

And just in case you’re wondering, no, nothing happened today. I’m not sure why I feel this way either.

I push around the last two cheerios drifting in my bowl of milk, imagining them as two inner tubes floating on a clear blue sea.  I’m sitting in one of them–my legs splayed lazily over the edge of the tube, the waves lapping at my toes. I’m calm. I can feel the heat of the sun on my body, but it doesn’t burn. I turn to look over at the other tube, but it’s empty. It’s just sitting there.

So I eat it.

Now there’s only 1 cheerio left in the bowl. I drop the bowl in the sink and let the cheerio float some more. My imaginary mini-me could use some more downtime floating in his ocean.

The words we use really do carry a lot of power, whether we realize it or not.

Last night, I was talking to a friend about how my aunt and my mom were conspiring to get me to meet this girl in Philadelphia. Her first reaction to the news was shock, “What? You definitely don’t need any help getting a girlfriend.” And then we continued discussing the matter.

But that little statement stuck with me. To her, it was probably a casual, nonchalant statement; she said it without any thought at all and she probably doesn’t even remember saying it. But to me, it meant a lot. Although it may not come across to everyone, I am still a very shy and self-conscious person and sometimes a little unsolicited affirmation from an external source is just what I need.

I wonder if I have made any comments in passing that have affected other people in similar ways. I really hope I have. And it is this simple fact–the raw power in a statement that is so honest that it is uttered without a second thought–that reaffirms my belief that one should always speak what they really believe.

The elevator doors opened. There were at least 7 of us waiting in the elevator bank, and all we did was stare. You see, we were waiting for the express elevator.

The empty elevator stared us right back, challenging us. Dare we tempt fate and risk taking the local elevator? A man and a woman nervously coughed and ambled on to the elevator. The monitor told us the express elevator was in its way down and would arrive shortly. The rest of us stood our ground. I kept my eyes glued to the status monitor as the local doors closed. The local elevator we just ignored was only going to one floor: the floor beneath mine. I should have gotten on. As we all shuffled on to the express elevator, I watched as the buttons of the 3 floors below mine all light up. So much for express.

–

We were coming home from tailgating at Giants stadium and I had just filled up with cheap Jersey gas.  As I pulled on to the Turnpike, I was offered a choice: Express or Local. I was trying to make it home for the closing ceremonies of the Olympics so I went with the “Express” lane. Big bloody mistake. As I sat in approximately an hour of traffic in the Express lane, I was kept awake by watching all the cars in the local lanes fly by.

I have come to the conclusion that “Express” is just a way to trick sheep into thinking they are taking a more proactive and efficient route in life. It’s all bullshit. From now on, I’m going local.

“Ever the pragmatist.”

As far as I know, those three words have never been used to describe me. I am not known for making the best choices in life. I often go for the immediate gratification and leave it up to fate. I am also a stubborn sunovabitch. This much I know.

But perhaps it’s time to make some changes. I’ve had something on my mind for almost a year now. It’s an awfully sticky situation but I can’t seem to give it up. The logical, realistic part of me tells me to just let it go. But I can’t, because that would be the smart thing to do; and we all know what Clarence does with smart things.

You know what? Fuck it. I’m going to continue being a lackadaisical fool and continue waiting this out. I’m pretty sure the expiration date of this situation has long past, but I’m going to stick around like an idiot and let it blow up in my face. ‘Cause that’s how I do.