Pen and Ink

So dance already.

I've been a bit blue. My friend Nan posted this on her Facebook page and it's totally lifting my spirits.  Maybe the whole country should listen to this.

Hard to get.

Cary called today and said that he was writing a profile for match.com, which he's rejoining after more than a year away.

"I'm done with random hookups," he declared. "I want a boyfriend."

Easier said than done.

He called me just as I was getting into the pool to do some cleaning. It takes a good mustering of energy for me to do pool maintenance, but once I'm in, I rather enjoy it. It's mindless work and it allows me to crawl into my head.

Topic A, as it so often is these days, is my romantic life, or lack thereof.  Cary's conversation about match.com took me down that path.

After ending my relationship with John last spring and dealing with some other entanglements in my life, I decided at the end of 2008 that I was ready to put myself out there again.

And along came Jose (after a series of misstarts with some South Florida riff-raff). Along came Jose, indeed.

He's got us on the back-burner as I mentioned in my cranky Valentine's Day post. I'm OK with it, because I understand his reasons. The only problem is that he kept my heart in his grip as he retreated into himself.

My friends, particularly those who have met him, tell me to be patient and give him time. I can't put my life on hold, but he's got me hostage.

I recently met Danny. Early 40s, attractive and an architect, he's expressed interest in me. Ordinarily, he's someone I would go on a date with, but I can't get my head back into dating mood.  He's a confident guy, and the other day, jokingly accused me of playing hard-to-get. Last night I sent him an email stating that it wasn't my intention to be elusive, but that I recently had my heart broken, so I am a little tentative when it comes to dating.

He called today to say that he understood.  "Don't open your heart right now," he told me.  He added, with a chuckle, "Eventually you will, and then I will break it."

I was chatting on Facebook last night with a friend of Martin's who's visiting Fort Lauderdale right now.  We've never met, but we started talking about our lives and being single.  Like me, he spends a lot of time in his head (I swear, it's a curse).  He asked if I have been able to manage having a fun, fulfilling life being single.

I told him that I was enjoying my life, that I have great friends and I have a lot going on.

But still, there's room for someone to stand next to me.  How do I reconcile all of this?

Big fuckin' deal.

Here we are...it's Valentine's Day.  So big fuckin' deal.  Yes, OK, I'm a little bitter about being alone on this, the ultimate Hallmark Holiday. 

I haven't written about it, but Jose has "us" on the back burner.  Actually, it's more like the warming plate.  There's some hope it will get back on track, but it will require an inordinate amount of patience on my part.  And for anyone who knows me, patience isn't necessarily one of my virtues.

So here I am, spending V-Day alone.  I've been doing laundry and cleaning the house, using upbeat show tunes to keep my spirits up.  I started with Mama Mia (Broadway cast, thank you -- not the tragic film score) and now I'm onto Spamalot.  And of course, it's full volume.

I've spent the last two weekend pretty much keeping to myself. Keith came over to hang out last weekend and my friend Marcelo was here last night for pizza and a movie, but other than them, it's pretty low key. 

But there's something to be said about that.  Last weekend I got the study painted -- all in one day.  For awhile I was using the cheap Behr paint from the Homo Depot, but now that it's clear that I'm in this house to stay for quite some time, I switched back to better quality Benjamin Moore.  I let the store manager talk me into the top-of-the-line version for my selections for the study.  Wow, what a big difference.  It was worth the $10 per gallon premium.  It's what allowed me to get the whole room done in one day.

Now I'm onto the bookcases in the study.  They need to be repainted (white), so I'm taking the time to build a nice frame around them and then will paint the whole thing.

My life sounds exciting, huh?  Who needs the concert tonight that Jose asked me to attend back on Christmas day?

Delicious.

Love this clip that Bernardo sent.

Identity.

I had a long conversation with a friend recently. He lost his job a few months ago and, like so many others, is struggling.

Financial difficulties aside, he is grappling with something more profound: identity.

So many of us define ourselves by what we do for work.  I'm a doctor. I'm a lawyer. I'm a teacher.  My friend is no different and without his job, he's a bit lost.

I shared with him that I choose not to do that.  Sure, there are circumstances when it's appropriate to say, "I'm a fundraiser" or "I'm a non-profit executive."  But those are the exception, rather than the rule.

"I wish you could teach me that," he said woefully.

I'm not really sure how I got to be this way.  Certainly there was a time when I was absorbed in my work and made it the center of my life. But no more.

In the days after that conversation, I thought about how I came to be non-work identified. What wisdom could I impart to my friend.

It comes down, I think, to what occupies my conscious thoughts when I'm not focusing on work or some other task. When I'm driving or walking or doing just about anything, I think about something fun or interesting coming up in my life.

For example, right now, I'm thinking about a concert that I'm supposed to attend with Jose on Valentine's Day.  It's an occasion to look forward to.  After that, it will be something else -- maybe a dinner party that Cary is organizing with the group of us who were on the cruise together.  From there, I'll be focused on a dinner party that my friends Susan and David and I are hosting at my home.  After that, a visit from Bernardo.

Free thoughts aren't about work, they are about life. I identify myself as a person who enjoys life, his friends and his families and the experiences we share.  Work -- and the resulting paycheck -- is just the enabler.