I’ve been cheating on WordPress.
Per a friend’s recommendation, I took a look around tumblr. I fell in love.
You can now find me posting regularly on http://seafox4.tumblr.com/.
It’s been real WordPress.
Since Thursday night at approximately 8 pm I have not left my condo complex. Since Friday around noon I’ve been alone. And for a majority of the “alone time” it was snowing. This is what I learned about being alone in a snowstorm:
-The U.S. Postal Service may not deliver during a major snowfall, but the Sunday New York Times does the day after.
-Snow is heavy. This may sound silly to East Coast/Midwest folks. But for those of us from Southern California who have never had to dig a car out from over two feet of snow, this is new news. My shoulders are killing me.
-Being stuck in your house for 48 hours is fun when you aren’t sick. Usually when I’m home for this long it’s because I have a terrible head cold or other ailments. But being healthy and stuck equals getting a lot done. This included: laundry, vacuuming, scrubbing the bathroom, cleaning makeup brushes, organizing tax info, dusting, and filing.
-The perfect time to catch up on phone calls with close friends is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a view of the snow falling.
-Two feet of snow makes trees look magical, like props in a Tim Burton film, or scenery from a Dr. Seuss book.
Once we live through teenage-hood, and our early 20s, and in some cases, our late 20s, women get easier to understand, I swear. We play less games, we want less drama. In fact, at a certain point, we start knowing exactly what we want in a man, or at least in a relationship.
I can’t speak for women everywhere. But I believe it comes down to four basic needs: purses, shoes, jewelry, and chocolate.
We carry a purse everywhere we go. Its contents support us in our daily life. And just like we need our wallet, our cellphone, Advil or our favorite lip gloss, we want our man there when we need him. We want him to support our career choices, and stand by us through bumps in the road with our family. We need him to kiss our foreheads after a rough day. I don’t want a man who fixes my problems for me. I recognize no good can come of someone else doing your dirty work in life. But don’t leave us in our weakest moments. I know it seems like we have a lot of them, but I swear one day, you will need us back, and it will have been worth carrying us along.
My closet holds 38 pairs of shoes (I just counted). High heels, mini-high heels, seven pairs of boots (including fake Uggs, Wellies, two pairs of the same flat leather boots in different colors, and three pairs of high-heeled boots), running sneakers, hiking boots, ballet flats, and flip-flops. They all serve a purpose, or represent good memories. The best ones, the favorite pairs, I have spent a lot of time with. And just like my favorite pair of shoes, I like to spend quality time with my favorite man. It’s not because I want a monopoly on his free time, or because I don’t have a life of my own. It’s because I love being with him. It’s that simple. I’m safe and comfortable with him, just like my favorite eight-year-old black flip-flops, that have formed to the shape of my feet.
We love jewelry. We especially love jewelry from our man. It’s shiny and pretty, and completes an outfit. It makes us feel special when someone compliments a necklace and we can say it came from “him.” Wearing it reminds us we are loved. And we need to be reminded, often. Reassurance can come in many forms: words, hugs, stolen kisses, a hand on a leg, a note, an email, a good night text message, flowers, and on and on. All the small stuff together matters just as much as the big. The more you remind us we are loved, the easier your life will be. Because when we feel shiny and pretty, just like our jewelry, it’s hard to be in a bad mood.
You love beer. Some of us like beer. You love sports. Some of us like sports. You like chocolate. We love chocolate. Chocolate gets us through the worst times of month, and year. It’s shared with girlfriends, or while watching Dirty Dancing for the 1,00oth time. Life’s sweetness can be found in a good box of chocolates, or in a great round of sex. It often comes across, on TV, or in a group of friends, like sex is something women reward men with. But for most women I know, including myself, we crave sex just as often, or sometimes more often than our men do. Of course the sex we crave is equal sided, and ends sweetly for both parties.
So it’s that simple gents: purses, shoes, jewelry, chocolate…aka support, time, reassurance, (good) sex. I promise, unless the girl is a little cuckoo, you provide our four favorite things, you will have a happy girl on your hands. And what dude doesn’t love a happy girl.
Someone once told me it takes two weeks to form a habit. I am not good at forming habits. Maybe because it’s hard for me to do something consistently for two weeks.
For instance, exercising. I have to constantly switch up the type of exercise I do in order to have it hold my interest.
I suppose what it comes down to is that I’m not one for a routine. That’s probably why I enjoy my job. It’s constantly changing. There is always a new and different project to work on, a new technology to check out, and Web trends to keep up with.
Generally speaking what it takes for me to keep up with something, aside from a paycheck, is momentum. When it came to writing this blog I lost momentum. I had the support of friends, and fellow bloggers, and at the height of this blog’s success, I was writing about a subject that peaked people’s interest–dating. I had more free time because I was single.
I am not single at the moment. But I don’t want that to stop me from writing. So I’m going to try and force some momentum on myself. I tried that back in November, but here’s the difference, I’m making it my belated New Year’s resolution. So instead of January 1st, let’s say January 31st starts a new year, and a new commitment to keeping up this blog.
I have seen sports columnists, among others, argue for more details of what really happened Thanksgiving night in Tiger Woods’ driveway. I will admit I could care less. Do I think Tiger deserves the media storm surrounding the reasons for the incident? Yes.
I have no sympathy for a man who cheated on his wife with multiple women while she was pregnant and mothering his two children. Whether or not the women were college professors, or cocktail waitresses, I don’t care. I have lost respect for the world’s best golfer.
It’s not as if Tiger went to the golf course, played the game, won some money, and went home to his family. He plastered his face on every major product or company that would take him. He put himself in front of our eyes as much as he possibly could. But now he doesn’t want our eyes on him. Where’s the logic there?
This caught my eye from Charles McGrath’s “Not Playing by the Rules” column today in the New York Times.
“Yet, as so many have pointed out, Woods has become a public figure not just in the way that most great athletes are public figures, but also in a way probably unparalleled in the history of publicity itself. He has made far more money from selling himself, or his image, than he has made from playing tournaments. That image, partly genuine and partly sculptured, has been one of decency, modesty, filial devotion and paternal responsibility, and not of mysterious car crashes and evasive explanations.”
You don’t get to parade yourself and the image you created in front of the world, and then expect the world will turn its head and look away when you prove to be a pathetic excuse for a husband.
There is a reason Dave Letterman made it out of his situation quickly. He said out loud what he did, and apologized. Whether his wife forgives him is between them, but he increased our chances of continuing to watch just by recognizing that his viewers deserved to hear it from him.
Tiger went after the media after he blatantly didn’t own up to what really happened. Not surprising, yes, but pathetic. In this situation, the only one he should be going after, is himself. Maybe it’s the female part of the “female sports fan” in me, but I will forever more root for Tiger Woods to fail.
Two months ago I wrote a post about my love of sports. In it I mention my favorite sports columnist of all time, Rick Reilly. Yesterday, while sitting on the train surfing ESPN on my Blackberry, I came across his new column on why he loves sports. I thought I’d share.
“Sports is real. It can’t be faked. If you’re Henry Fonda’s son and you want to act, you get to act. If you’re Chelsea Clinton and want to govern, you get to govern. But just because you’re Nolan Ryan’s son doesn’t mean you get to pitch in the Show.”
“Sports fans can be buried in a coffin that is painted in their favorite team’s colors and logo. Anybody buried in a Chicago Symphony Orchestra coffin lately?”
“Sports has honor. In a Texas girls high school volleyball playoff this season, one of the East Texas Christian Academy girls suffered a head injury and was taken away on a stretcher. The East Texas girls were too upset to continue and forfeited. But their opponents — Summit Christian — refused. They insisted on rescheduling. They said they couldn’t win that way. And yet last year in Alaska, Senator Ted Stevens (R) ran for reelection despite seven felony convictions.”
Photo: Trafalgar Square
-Escalators get the point of being escalators here. They move quickly.
-Dapper gents in properly fitted, classy suits everywhere. Nothing like a handsome, slender man in a nice suit. It can lift a girl’s spirits.
-Free newspaper in the morning. Free newspaper at night. Both featuring outrageous (and often hilarious) headlines.
-Double decker buses. We have to pay good money to take one in DC. Here, it’s just your normal bus ride.
-London pubs. I would take one over any U.S. dive bar any day (and definitely over a U.S. pub). Some of these pubs have been serving beer longer than the U.S. has been in existence. But whether they opened 300 years ago, or two months ago, they all have the welcoming, cheery atmosphere that comes with gorgeous wooden bars and friendly barkeeps. And at some locations you can get delicious Thai food. Only downside: they close way too early, even on weekends.
-It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been in New York City at Christmas. But I do believe London has NYC beat for department store Christmas displays. I’m not sure I’ve seen anything quite like Harrods “Wizard of Oz” themed storefronts this year. And if you are wondering why “Wizard of Oz”at Christmas, I found out it’s tradition here to watch that movie on Christmas Day. Also, Oxford and Regent St are both done up to the nines. Christmas lights (and other shiny stuff) galore. Photo: Scarecrow at Harrods
-Fantastic, beautiful, brilliant museums are free. I’ve now been to the Tate Modern, the British Museum, the National Gallery, the National Portrait Gallery, the Victoria&Albert Museum, the Natural History Museum and the Science Museum, and didn’t spend a penny to get in. (I did however spend quite a few pennies in the amazing gift shops). These places are worth going to for the buildings themselves. I love the Smithsonian system in DC, but London wins in the free museum category.
-For history geeks like me (and I’m not even that into it), places like the Tower of London and the Winston Churchill Cabinet War Rooms and Museum are totally worth the few pounds it costs to get in. To stand in those places, and recall the history-defining moments that happened in them, is a privilege.
-Big Ben, Houses of Parliament, Tower Bridge. You see them over and over in pictures, movies, calendars, and so on. But, like the Sistine Chapel and the U.S Capitol, some places are worth putting in the effort to see in person.
-I’ve run through Kensington Gardens twice this week. The first run I stumbled upon a Peter Pan statue. The second time, the Diana Memorial Fountain. I went to a Christmas festival in Hyde Park Monday evening. In April I spent some quality time with the tulips in St. James’ Park. The parks here are lovely, and filled with spots that will make you want to pause and stay awhile (even if it is rainy). Photo: Winter Wonderland Festival