Pen and Ink

A thrilling Halloween.

Check this out.  Fantastic!

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Full Halloween moon.

Halloween has never really been my thing, but this was too cute not to post.

Spontaneity.

Two people at work were killed Tuesday in a car crash. Instantly.  I didn't know them personally, but we were all pretty shaken up, as they were driving to an event that hundreds and hundreds of us were participating in.

It was yet another reminder of how we cannot take life for granted and that we are compelled to enjoy each and every day.

As I was driving to yesterday, I thought to myself that I really wanted and needed a weekend away. Away from work and the house and everything that I have going on. Then I came up with all the reasons why I shouldn't spend the money and all the things that I need to get done at home.

Then I remembered those two poor women.

The travel stars aligned to make it happen. A ticket on Spirit from Fort Lauderdale to Laguardia (I'm headed to NYC, where else?) for $249.  A hotel room, in Times Square, for $235. That's unheard of.  I took those as signs and booked the trip.

I called my sister and my friend Chris and made plans to see them. On the phone with Chris last night, I asked him what show he wanted to go see.  We discussed a couple of possibilities, one of which was Equus with Daniel Radcliffe.  But, we figured, we'd never get tickets at such a late date.

But, as I said before, the stars were aligned. 

Logging into my Ticketmaster account, I went to see if I could find tickets for Equus. Moving through the pages, I was cautiously optimistic.  Everything I was putting in working.

Then came the answer to the question.  The site came back offering me two tickets third row, center orchestra.  I stared at the screen in disbelief.  This can't possibly be right.  But there it was.

As the timer was counting down, I scrambled to find my wallet and Amex card.  And then I nailed those puppies.

Airfare, hotel, theater tickets...all signs that I'm meant to be in the Big Apple this weekend.

And who am I to argue with signs?

Lessons not taught.

There are no excuses for bad manners.  Especially when they are employed to cover up one's lack of cujones.

For example, if, after having talked to someone daily for five weeks and then finally have two dates in person, you decide you are not attracted to the person, is it permissible to stop calling the person.  Especially after you tell them on a Saturday afternoon, "Let's figure out something to do on Sunday."

Why is it that one person, who really is decent at heart, can't have the courage to another decent person -- someone who was a potential romantic interest -- that you just are not finding the right chemistry?  This should be required in the lesson plans of high school.  They should teach us that not calling or returning a call is just wrong. It is mean. It is cowardly.

And what does the experience teach the person who was subjected to these types of bad manners twice in just a few months?

Can someone tell me?

All the ingredients.

Over breakfast last week, my friend Dave and I talked about relationships. We've only met recently, so we were sharing some of our history with each other.  A highly intelligent, thoughtful person, Dave admitted that he knows he is not ready for a relationship.  (Our meeting was in the spirit of friendship, nothing more.)

He shared with me something he learned from a workshop he went to years ago. I'm struck by its truth and its honesty about relationships. I share it here, with all due respect to whomever came up with this; if I knew who it was, I would give proper attribution.

Essentially what Dave said is that in order to have a relationship with someone, the four A's have to be in place. 

A=attractive. The person need not be a "10". Some of the best 10's are hidden and as long as the person is attractive to your eye is all that matters.

A=acceptable. The person needs to be able to blend into your social circle of friends and family. So, if you are a preppy conservative, some person that has piercings and tattoos all over their body probably wouldn't fit in.

A=affluent. The person need not be wealthy, but should have a career or job that is self supportive and one that provides mostly positive feelings. A person who is happy at work has a better chance at being happy at home.

A=available. This is the most important quality and might take a few outings to see if the person possesses this characteristic. The person can't be in or just out of a relationship. Nor, can this person be married to the bottle, drugs or some other addiction as these provide too many distractions (most call it baggage) to be able to commit to a meaningful monogamous relationship.

 

Spell it out for me.

There are two things that my brain simply cannot process.

The first is distances. Someone can tell me, "Drive 100 yards and turn left."  Well, I cannot comprehend how far 100 yards is.  Feet I can get, if there are only a few of them. Or even a couple of yards.  My mind simply imagines a 12 inch ruler or a yard stick on the ground.  But I can only work with a few.

The other relates to the arts, specifically dance.

I love dance. Last night I attended a performance by the Inbal Pinto dance troupe, an Israeli company that was presented in Miami at the stunning Gusman Center for the Performing Arts.

But I really don't understand dance.  Contemporary or ballet, it doesn't matter.

I appreciate the beauty, the athleticism, the precision, the creativty...the whole thing.  But I just cannot comprehend the meaning. What is the choreographer, as story teller, trying to have us understand.

Last night's performance was called Shaker, inspired by those glass globes that, when shaken, have snow falling.  The stage was filled with fluffy fake snow and the dancers interacted with it continuously.  There were three structures that I could only liken to dog houses that took dancers on and off the stage. 

Susan said after that she was bothered by some of the images, including one piece where a male dancer essentially dragged around two women dancers by their long hair.  I admit it was a little unnerving, but I don't have any clue what the choreographer was up to.

I think that's why I am an avid lover of musical and dramatic theater as well as film. It's pretty literal.  Sure, there are images and subtexts that add character and body to the work, but the essential story, the fundamental message of the piece, is generally pretty clear or easily understood with a little thought.

But dance, while I appreciate and respect it (I was even on the board of a dance company in Boston), I just can't comprehend.

Label whore.

I have never been a label whore. 

Well, maybe a little -- I do wear the names Calvin Klein and 2xist under my pants.  But that's about it.

Cary works for Saks and is always dressed snappily.  And he always reminds me of his 30 percent discount, to which I always respond, "Honey, 30 percent off outlandish is still outrageous." 

Lately he's been wearing these funky Converse All Stars sneakers without laces.  I've teased him that I would buy him laces if he was short on cash from spending his entire salary at Saks.

Apparently these are a special version of All Stars done by designer John Varvatos. I wouldn't know John Varvatos if I ran him over, but I guess he's a big deal.  Of course, you can only buy these things in Saks and Neiman Marcus.

After enough teasing, he made me try them on.

Oh my, how heavenly.  The most comfortable things I have ever put on my feet.

After practically ripping my feet from my ankles to get the sneakers back, he told me that "double discount" was coming up in a couple of weeks and that he would get me a pair of my own.

Too bad these puppies don't work with my suits, because if they did, I'd never take them off.

A single, yellow rose.

Martin sent an email this morning complaining of no blog posts, no Facebook updates, no emails.  He told me to stop being such a busy executive.

So I responded by telling him exactly what I was doing at that moment: at Fort Lauderdale airport, dressed in a navy blue suit with blue shirt, holding a single, yellow rose, getting ready to surprise Ed as he got off his flight from Chicago.

He's right that I haven't been writing much (I'll get back to this Ed person in a minute -- hold your horses). Part of the problem is that I've always approached this blog as a reflection of what's going on in my life and in my thoughts -- a bit exhibitionist. But this site has become very public and I find that I have to be careful of what I write; I cannot be as forthcoming as I like.  Case in point, there was some stuff going on in my life last spring that I just couldn't write about.  It's silenced my writing, but I'm getting back to it.

Now where was I?

They say that it is when you are not looking to meet someone is when it happens. And I really wasn't looking, or at least not for anything that came with strings attached. 

It all started innocently enough. This guy on one of the gay social networking sites emailed me with questions about Fort Lauderdale real estate, as he is planning a move here.  We had a few exchanges on the topic, and I don't remember how this came up, but I said something about having gone out on a date the night before. His response was something like, "well, don't get married until I've had the chance to meet you."

And so it went. Unlike most web conversations, this one moved to the telephone quickly and...here's my confession...we've been phone dating for the past five weeks. We've talked every day, literally. After a few gentle nags, he went out and got a webcam, so we could actually see each other (I wasn't disappointed!).

This weekend, starting with my surprise appearance at the airport, will determine the next chapter.

Potty humor.

I found this on Bandit Talks -- it is just too funny not to post here.

Enjoy.

Miracles happen.

I got my wheels back today. And the rest of my car along with it.

Because I've been so neglectful of this blog as of late, those people who keep up with my life through these pages don't know that I was in a car accident about a month ago.

It was a typical Miami driver who hit me. One of those people who, for some reason, just don't comprehend why the powers that be sometimes hang red lights in the middle of intersections.

I was on my way to work -- in fact, just a few blocks from campus. There are three lanes of traffic on 5th Street. I was the first car at the red light. As it turned green, I paused, as I generally do. But I had a cold coming on and was feeling a little out of it.  I didn't see the Toyota Tacoma that came barreling through the intersection until it was too late. Too late defined as ramming my car, hitting the front right wheel and smashing up the door, front quarter panel and front bumper.

Thankfully, I escaped without injury. A little soreness in my back, but a trip to the chiropractor a couple of hours later helped.  My car, on the other hand, sustained more than $6,000 worth of damage.

Aside from not being hurt, the other miraculous thing was that a witness came back to the scene a few minutes after the accident and told the police officer what she saw. Who does that anymore? 

It turns out that she also works for the college. We had never met, but only spoken by phone one day.  She came over to talk to me as I stood on the sidewalk waiting for the tow truck. I asked her to confirm that I did, in fact, have the green light.

"Oh, his light could not have been redder."

Thankfully she told that to the cops and the idiot driver got a ticket.

The third miraculous thing, especially for Miami, is that the clown actually had insurance.  State Farm, even! And he called it in promptly. But the time I called them about two hours later, they already knew about the accident and had my information.  I even got the check for my deductible from them within two weeks.

The last miracle of this story is that when I got my car back today, there was no sign of damage.  And it even works right!  It steers, it's in alignment.  It's amazing!

Miracles do happen.