Welcome to your fountain of youth. Not too proud for immaturity over here. Life's a journey, not a destination. So follow by example and follow mine. And OCCUPY THIS.
Writing on the Wall. Des Moines. Factually Incorrect.
Funny nonetheless.
More writing on the wall. Read it. Compliments of Manhattan Mini Storage.
Love this sign, however, I actually have to say that the above statement is somewhat inaccurate, as I have a friend who lives in Des Moines and recently became officially famous. Frequently makes the rounds on the news circuit, such as CNBC's Power Lunch and (albeit somewhat begrudgingly) Fox News.
I'd like to share the following laugh out loud sarcastic quote which followed shortly after said friend's new found stardom:
"My narcissism is now completely out of control. I am intolerable to lower social classes of people such as yourself. You should feel lucky to even know me at this point." Classic case of fame gone to head.
So there you have it, folks. An old fashioned American dream made into reality. Right there in Des Moines, IA. Cause if you can make it there, you'll make it anywhere...Here's hoping we all might be as fortunate to make it big time. Into the big leagues. Living the dream. One day at a time. Just like my now famous friend (or quite possibly infamous at this point), from Des Moines. Cheers and good luck to ya! And start spreading the news with the following classic. But maybe insert Des Moines in place of New York for a few refrains, just for good measure.
Reporting to you live from Shakedown Street: Nothin' Shakin'. Not yet anyways. Used to be the heart of town. However: Don't tell me this town ain't got no heart. Just gotta poke around. One more thing: Don't tell me this town ain't got no heart, when I can hear it beat out loud.
Also, this just in: The sunny side of the street is dark.
It's Saturday night. And we're ready to poke around. Our dancing shoes are on. We're ready to break it down. Are you? Get ready to shake the proverbial tail feather with the following addition to your evening soundtrack. And, as Ben Franklin would say "Get down with thy badself."
A Serious Question: Is Spelling Any Word in the English Language Accurately Now Merely an Outdated Antiquity, Reminiscent of a More Refined Era?Is Spelling Now: Enemy Number One?Bothersome Annoyance?Or Technically Insignificant?
Trending Now: Your
Official Welcome to the Dawning of a New Age: The Age of Unashamed Spelling
Incompetence.
Since the technological revolution has vaulted us all into
the Age of: Possibly-Never-Having-to-Use-a-Pen-Again, my own, and I’m guessing
that quite possibly your, spelling
abilities have been on the long, slow decline.Your current lack of spelling (not to mention grammar) skills sort of
sneaks up on you. Almost
undetectably.An insidious progression
of deterioration.Like the morning you
look in the mirror and notice the lines in your face are more defined, your
hair more peppered with gray.Age sneaks
up on you, just like your slow degradation of spelling skills that you now no
longer need, because you type with autocorrect and spellcheck. Personally,
my spelling ability has recently pretty much hit rock bottom.Current all-time low.Plummeted to the depths of the level of a
five year old. I'm always surprising myself
with new words that I no longer know how to spell.Words that I used to know so well, up and
down, top to bottom.Like the back of my
hand.
Since the invent of spellcheck hijacked our collective
spelling abilities, my question now becomes the following: is it even necessary
to learn how to spell in the first place?Is it a lost art?Gone the way of
the dinosaur?And does anyone even
really care anymore if words are spelled correctly anyways?I mean, with texts flying back and forth with
reckless abandon, emails shot through space via blackberries at the speed of
light, Facebook messaging bombarding us from every angle, not to mention
twitter tweets chirping up a storm, does anyone actually care if someone misspells the word: personnel (My own
enemy accurate spelling word numero uno).
In this day and age of communication overload, do the
details really matter anymore?I mean,
you get the gist if I type personell (back off spellcheck! totally meant to
misspell this time.) vs. the technically “correct” form of the word…and isn’t it even sort
of a fun game to try to decode what people are actually trying to communicate
electronically when they type too fast.All systems go.Gone to plaid.Firing off emails like neuron’s firing after
5 cups of coffee.While living in the
fast lane, can any of us really be bothered anymore with tiny details such as
spelling?My theory is: not so
much.Because, in my mind, spelling is
sooooo 90’s.Tres passé at this
point.
If anyone actually bothered to make mention of
that tremendously grammatically incorrect email you just fired off with
reckless abandon, which might quite possibly make your high school grammar
teacher faint upon reading, wouldn’t you be sincerely surprised?Shocked almost, that someone actually took the time to follow up with
a response that corrected your poor choice of wording, grammar and spelling?Because, ultimately, they got the gist, picked up what you were
throwing down.Why even bother to care
if you misspelled <insert word that continually transcends comprehension of
correct spelling here>.
Sometimes, I like to think of it as a personal challenge to try
to decode the message that someone is attempting to transmit, in the worst
way humanly possible.Like a crossword
puzzle.A mystery yet to be solved.Like cracking a code…their use of grammar
and spelling is so poor, declined so much further down the scale than your
own, that it’s a contest to decode their
“hidden message”, lost amongst the wreckage of the English language gone awry.As opposed to actually writing said person
back to clarify what they really
meant.Because, in all seriousness, who
has the time in this day and age to really focus on spelling when there’s so
many other important things going on in the world?Like Newt Gingrich’s latest racial slur, for
example. It's hard to keep up!
We are all on the slippery slope of spelling extinction,
folks, and there’s no coming back.No
passing go.No collecting $200.We are all at different levels of spelling
ineptitude in this inevitable process of phase-out.And it’s high time we acknowledge that
machines would beat us in a spelling bee every single time.On any day of the week.No contest.Hands down.
One can make the comparison of modern era language to the
proper English of the 17th century, the days of Shakespeare, for
which I need a personal translator to even navigate through to get anywhere
close to effectively understanding what he’s trying to say.Even in the late 19th century, Ben
Franklin’s Poor Richards Almanac, which was a supposedly down to earth and “man
of the people” style of writing is difficult to navigate and comprehend with
any degree of certainty.Take, for
example, this quote: “Avarice and Happiness never saw each other, how then
shou’d they become acquainted.”Can you
make neither hide nor hair of that?No?Me neither.Step one: look up definition of avarice…There’s
also this: “Who has deceiv’d thee so oft as thy self?”I mean, when was the last time you used thee
or thy, or oft for that matter, in a sentence?Probably not in our lifetimes, unless you were recently at a Renaissance Fair.And finally, there’s
this: “Proclaim not all thou knowest, all thou owest, all thou hast, nor all
thou canst.”Prime example of flowery
language gone by the wayside,regardless
of how wise or insightful his message was.I suppose we could always go retro and start referring to each other as
thee, thy and adding “Ye Olde” in front of anything we care to visit.For example, I’m going to go to “Ye Olde
Electronics Store” tomorrow morning.As
well as adding est to every verb we might use.Combining it all together we might get something like the following: “To-Morrow I do seek to runest on ye olde
treadmill at ye olde gym, whilst thoust sittest upon thy olde couch and withers,
ever a mark of folly, as we are so oft to do.” Bringin’ back old school…Ben Franklin style.
What’s my overall point in this article, you might ask? Let me spell
it out for you.No one cares about
spelling anymore, myself included (not to mention honey badger, but I digress…).It’s high time that someone officially welcome
us all into the Era of Post-Modern Spelling Nonexistence.The Age of Aquarius, where-we-don’t-even-bother-to-hit-spellcheck,
and bask in our own ignorant misspelling bliss.Frolic in our ability to cut through the noise, and focus on what’s
truly important: the subject of the latest South Park episode?Acknowledge that which we can outsource to
computers, freeing us to hone in on bigger and better things.Feeling no guilt whatsoever for our lack of
knowledge, skills and abilities in this particular area where computers picked
up where we left off.We passed the
baton, and we are proud.Well, maybe not
proud, but more likely, are simply too busy keeping up with the Kardashians to
care.
So, welcome, world, to what we’ve all been waiting for.A new age within the space-time continuum,
where we officially acknowledge that spelling no longer matters, entirely
insignificant in the grander scheme of things.Because this is the dawning of the Age of “outsourcing-anything-that-we-can-think-of-that-is-too-bothersome-to-endeavor-upon-ourselves”.The Age of Unashamed Spelling Incompetence.The true
Age of Aquarius.
So let us join hands, sing Cumbayá, and “let the sunshine
in” by listening to the song below. To properly welcome in this new Age of “Spelling
Bee Extinction”.May we forever be free
of having to feel that familiar pang of guilt at the realization we’ve fired off
an email chock full of spelling and grammatical errors to our most important
client: one who happens to be an English teacher.
Welcome to the true age of harmony and understanding.Words are no longer necessary here.At least ones that are correctly spelled.The age of true freedom of speech, er
writing.
So, RIP Spelling.We’ll never forget you and the declining impact that you’ve had on our
collective lives. It’s a shame you had to leave so soon, but we’re onto bigger
and better things, such as Snookie’s latest love interest on Jersey Shore.
Spelling. Never Forget. RIP.
Mystic Crystal
Revelations.Age of Aquarius.When
the Moon is in the 7th house.
Have fun storming the castle! OWS is. You're weekend of occupation has officially begun.
Follow by example and kick off your own occupation (of my blog if at all possible) And be inspired by those doing so right here.
Dogs Occupy too. So can you.
Live, from Union Square, where the occupation has grown by multiples since this morning, the occupiers now outnumber the cops. However, the fuzz has their own tricks up their sleeves. They are not taking this situation lying down. No, they have brought out the big guns. A schoolbus? Pictured here. That's right, they've really added to their arsenal with this intimidating schoolbus.
And the OWS folks are by no means taking it lying down either. In fact, they're just not taking it at all anymore. They are really thinking outside the box...see for yourself:
Guess they really are the 99%. Def not lying down. Crawling.
Mo Money, Mo Problems.
You're a grand old flag, you're a high flying flag...
Flagging it up.
Bringing out the Big Guns. Barricades.
An Occupation Proposal, that Greg Can't Refuse
Thinking outside the box. But I'm in the box...
Schoolbus, eh? That all you got? Big guns times two.
if you ask me. But I'm no expert. No one's asking anyway.
But only if you're Jewish. If you were not previously aware of the Mitzvah Mobile, allow me to enlighten you. Apparently, it is a van that contains a number of orthodox folks who get you in there from off the street to do something-or-other that cannot be confirmed or denied at this time. I guess they kind of wait around for someone to pass by who looks Jewish, at which point they pounce, surrounding said Jewish looking person, and talking them into accompanying them into their van (pictured left). The doors close, and it's anyone's guess as to what happens next. Sorry I cannot be more informative at this time but will update as more information comes to light on this topic.
For now, you can consider this to be your daily dose of UNenlightenment.
Mitzvah are back in season. Get your Mitzvah here!
But not a Bold Move 2012 (already been done by Greg Smith). See yesterday's post. Seriously though, hit me up if interested in a consultant relations position with fixed income heavyweight investment management firm covering alternative investment consultants (ie. Cliffwater, Aksia, Cambridge, etc). Prior experience required. Not sure how much but probably 5-10 is my guess. Based in New York. Could this be you? Will put you in touch with appropriate people. Seems like a good opportunity.
Jaywalkers. Yep, had this conversation the other day with a guy from California. Said he loved visiting New York because he just loves all the jaywalking that everyone does. Apparently, in California, they actually ticket jaywalkers, which, in my mind, is a colossal waste of time...but not here! Everyone jaywalks! It's a jaywalking free-for-all! Even the cops jaywalk! As a matter of fact, you get funny looks if you don't jaywalk round these parts.
I'd even go as far as to say that jaywalking is almost an art form. Definitely more art than science. You have to time it just right, step out in the sidewalk and wait for your perfect break in traffic, your perfect opportunity to cross before the light turns red. Maybe you have to run a little, maybe not. But one thing's for sure: you're always on your toes.
So three cheers for NYC, where people jaywalk with carefree, reckless abandon!
Throwing caution to the wind! Living on the edge! And welcome, Californians,
to our festival of jaywalking on the streets of Manhattan.
We hope you enjoy your stay...Feel free to get your jaywalk on and join in the fun.
Just be sure to look both ways before crossing the street.
See this guy? Seasoned jaywalker. Jaywalking in action.
Under cherry blossoms.
Cherry blossoms in Rock Center * Ice Rink That Continues to Defy Laws of Physics on a 76 degree day in NYC = 3 more points for NYC. Take that DC. NY pulls ahead in a race that was just yesterday neck and neck.
Do you have an ice rink that is capable of defying the laws of physics on a daily basis? Didn't think so...Current score: DC:1 NYC: 4
And this. One, two punch.
And that. Cherry blossoms + daffodils = winning combination
Just an FYI. Unicorn crimefighters are apparently trending. They are hot. The latest fad. At least according to friends on FB. So get on board this train before you're the last of your friends to check out these superheros of our time. Proven by these pictures. I believe...
Unicorns = Batman
Batman Rides Unicorn. With Dolphins. If only real world
consisted of unicorns + rainbows +dolphins. Someday?
Because, "Sometime's there's a man, sometime's there's a man..." Watch the following clip to catch a glimpse of another superhero of our time. Because today's theme is officially: In Lebowski (and Unicorns) We Trust. The Dude Abides...
Just when you thought that, what I've now dubbed to be: "Bold Movers" were a species on the verge of extinction, you have the reminder that Greg Smith gave to all of us with his Op Ed piece in the New York Times last week titled, "Why I Quit Goldman Sachs", that they are still very much alive and well. Congratulations, Greg, for reminding us all that there are, in fact, people in this world that are willing to do the unthinkable: Burn Bridges with a Vengeance. Obviously, you or I would never actually do these things, opting to not burn bridges unless absolutely necessary. Generally a good career move. But lucky for us that there are people like Greg in this world, that we can marvel at their astoundingly bold exit strategies. Makes me think back to my personal favorite exit strategies gone awry, which include the following:
1. Jet Blue Guy (AKA: Bold Mover 2010). Sliding his way to freedom down the emergency exit slide of a JetBlue Aircraft at JFK in 2010. Beer in hand. Went "JetBlue".
2. Jerry McGuire: "I'm not going to do what everyone thinks I'm going to do...and FLIP OUT"
3. That guy in London who mistakenly thought he won the lottery and threw the ticket in his boss's face and ran out the door. Lucky for him that they took him back after he discovered he was holding a fake lotto ticket.
Remind yourselves of some amazing exit strategies with the following clips. Just be sure to confirm that you've actually won the lottery before trying this at home.
Steven Slater. Coined the Phrase: "Going JetBlue"
Jerry McGuire: "Who's coming with me? I'll take the fish."
Eat me. PDT. Appropriate response to just about anything.
Yes, I fell. It happens. Thank god no one saw.
Looked the other way. No help up. Fine by me.
+ Not paying attention to where you are going = Recipe for Disaster. End note. Fortunate for me, the good people of Manhattan were kind enough to pretend that they didn't see my wipeout in the crosswalk in Astor Place. I can almost pretend that it didn't happen too. Except for my torn leggings...cheers to looking like a homeless person in a professional office environment. If anyone asks, appropriate response will be that I'm starting a new trend.
And if you laugh at my shredded knee, another appropriate response can be found on the left of this page. Apparently, these boots weren't really made for walkin'...possibly cabbing, but not walkin' :-)
In a world of instant gratification, how on earth do we impart the virtues of patience into our daily lives? How do we break the constant ADD we experience with all of our handheld devices? Our blackberrys, iphones, droids and of couse, ipads? I was recently reminded that having patience is in fact a virtue by the following statement, which really made me look at it from an entirely different perspective: if there were never people to annoy you, to cut you down, who could you ever thank for imparting your wisdom of tolerability? How would you ever be able to tolerate anyone or anything? Were it not for your enemy, who keeps you in the proverbial "check". And then it dawned on me, so true. They really have a point there.
I mean, if it weren't for your annoying roomate or coworker, who chews really loudly with his mouth open, or your incessantly nagging spouse, who would push your limits of tolerance? And how not-cut-out-for-new york-would you be then? I mean, lets face it. New York is a trying place. You can't tell me that you love the stampedes of people just dying to run you over at Grand Central every morning. However, you probably have figured out a way to deal with it, at least in your own mind. And that goes for just about everything else too. So instead of denoucing Grand Central, as I am so apt to do, as a crazy cesspool of insanity, maybe you should thank it, because in some weird way, it has instilled more patience into you. And for that, we thank it. And every other annoyance in our lives as well.
I know that I'm going to personally thank every single person who runs into me, steps on my feet, and bashes into me with a force never to be wished upon our worst enemies or otherwise like encounter that throws me off kilter. Because, it is helping us all, myself included, to have a little patience for our fellow man.
And so is Axl Rose and GNR, with the following song. "Cause all we need is just a little patience..."
Apparently NYC has cherry blossoms too. Take that, DC!
DC:1, NYC: 1
Trinity Church Cherry Blossoms, Downtown NYC. Made an appearance.
Cherry Blossoms at Night.
Background: I've had an ongoing debate with some people (mostly those of which who live in DC) over which is the better city, New York or our nation's capital, Washington DC. In my mind, its a silly debate as its like comparing apples and oranges. Monet with Picasso...CNN with Fox News. But in the spirit of keeping the contest alive, just gonna throw this out there DC: we have our own cherry blossoms. Take that! Yours are lovely and all, but ours have character. And character goes a long way. Additionally, ours just so happen to be illuminated at night. So my question to you DC supporters is: are your cherry blossoms lit up at night? Well? Because ours are. Score 1 more for NYC. Current score: NYC: 2. DC: 1, but will keep you posted on any additional scoring from either side. Looking forward to this silly debate's inevitable conclusion on the side of NYC. But until then, let the games begin. And may the best city win!
Check this out. Cherry Blossoms by Night. You have that DC? If so, bring it.
Because Honey Badgers really just don't care. Moms=care. Honey badgers =don't care.
I know this is totally 6-12 months ago, but why not bring back honey badger jokes for old times sake? Always a good time. Also, I'm sure there's got to be a few of you out there who missed the boat on the whole Honey Badger nature video by Randall. If that includes you, get on the boat here. But Honey Badger don't care if you watch or not.
...the rink is packed. This coming to you live from everyone's favorite Ice Rink That Never Sleeps: Rockefeller Center.
With the world still on the edge of their seats, wondering if Rock Center's now famous Rink, AKA: The Ice Rink That Defies the Laws of Physics, will remain open throughout the summer, will just have to wait for another day. Because it sure is packed here, with no end in sight.
Will continue to keep you abreast of new and breaking developments in this ongoing saga.
In other breaking Rock Center news, daffodils are now installed, with more apparently on the way.
Ain't Misbehavin'. What We've Got Here is Failure to Communicate.
Ain't misbehavin'. Well, maybe a little bit...But apparently, what we've really got here is a failure to communicate. It always surprises me when I'm reminded of the way men and women approach the world: from two opposite ends of the spectrum. Consistently failing to communicate, either verbally or through actions. One thing this apparent breakdown in communication never fails to do is offend the other person. I was fortunate enough to be enlightened yesterday by a member of the opposite sex as to what men apparently really want from us women, including: that we learn how to cook, consistently wax, purchase matching sets of underwear and go to the gym. Seems like a pretty simple set of instructions. Unfortunately, women approach relationships from an emotional frame of reference. No simple set of instructions there. We want to feel appreciated and accepted for who we are. Allowed to be ourselves. Adored. At the very least, and I'm talking bare minimum here, is it too much to ask for a phone call the next day? To compliment our outfit occasionally? To notice when we get a hair cut? Doesn't seem too difficult to me...but hey, what do I know?
Believing that this lack of communication can be solved overnight is akin to believing in the tooth fairy. However, a step in the right direction might be to simply ask the other person what's important to them. Here's a novel idea: actually talk to each other. Find out each other's hot buttons and make every effort to avoid stepping on landmines. How many arguments have you witnessed that could have been avoided by the "happy" couple merely taking the time to actually talk to the other person? How many hurt feelings might have been avoided by asking a question rather than charging full speed ahead. I mean, this isn't rocket surgery here...not like we're curing cancer. So, the next time we set out to do what we "think" the other person wants from us, probably the best approach might be to actually hear it from the horse's mouth. Ask a simple question as opposed to making assumptions. So quit blaming your issues on the "missbehavin' ways" of your significant other. Maybe they don't even realize that their actions are offending you. Have your own "state of the union address" and actually lay your issues out on the table. Doing so will surely save yourselves, your friends, your family, and us all precious time, effort and heartache in the end...Not to mention the avoidance of your very own, personalized Civil War right there in your own backyard, er bedroom. Cause what's so civil about war, anyway?
And while you're at it, watch the following scene from Cool Hand Luke:
And this: Avoiding Civil War: Guns N Roses, Civil War. Cause Axl doesn't need your Civil War. And neither do we.
Time to Clean Up Our Acts.
It's Springtime and you know what that means...That's right, it's time for an annual spring cleaning session. Out with the old, in with the new...break out the golf shoes and tennis gear because it's high time we clean up our acts. Hit the gym to feel at least semi comfortable in that bikini purchased last year but never worn. Throw out those things we no longer need and use (snuggies?). Pack away our winter clothes and ski gear (though did anyone really use it this year?) Apparently, now that its warm out, it's also time for that guy who lives across the street from me to emerge from his apartment in the morning wearing nothing but a purple bathrobe and Adidas sandals to get the paper and stand around, checking things out for a while...but I digress.
Time to embark on an annual juice cleanse to flush out all those toxins you've been accumulating over the last year (my personal favorite spring cleaning methodology). However, I recommend reading my post titled, Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, first for a detailed description of how you will most likely react to cutting out protein and most forms of carbs from your diet. It's not pretty or pleasant, but worth the results, in my opinion. But don't say I didn't warn you. Additional aids in detoxification include, hitting up a sauna, sweat lodge or Bikrim yoga to really force those toxins out of your pores. For more detailed information on juice cleanses, feel free to ask. I've done research on the subject and have determined the best ways to go about it.
Now that you've gotton your living space and body all cleaned out, tuned up and ready to go, why not do a little spring cleaning of the mind. Options to accomplish this include (but are not limited to) the following: meditation, yoga, tai chi, accupuncture, accupressure, long hikes in the woods, the list of ways to clear the mind goes on and on. I find that a combination of accupuncture, meditation and yoga works best for me, but dabble in various methods from time to time. Good to mix it up once in a while.
So, let's get motivated to clean up our acts together with the following appropriate song by Dave Brubeck. And break out the juicer and get moving.
...Really was about marijuana. At least according to my Urban Myth Calendar. Makes me think of that amazingly awkward scene in "Meet the Parents" when Ben Stiller accompanies DeNiro to the drug store and their conversation about "Puff the Magic Dragon" ensues. Remind yourself of this classic scene with the following clip:
And since we're on the topic of Meet the Parents and marijuana...may as well check this one out too.
The Writing on the Garden Walls. Read it. Love. Hope.
As spring has now officially sprung, seems appropriate to share your daily dose of Inspiration Overload, compliments of East Village community garden artwork. Reminding us all to love, hope, dream, believe, enjoy each day, and, of course, to plant a little sunshine.
Celebrate the onset of spring and prepare yourselves to be completely over-inspired.
More Writing on Garden Walls. Love. Hope. Dream.
The Writing on Garden Walls Continued. Believe.
The Writing on Garden Rocks. Enjoy Each Day.
More Writing on Garden Rocks. Plant a Little Sunshine.
Abstinence Makes the Heart Grown Fonder. Thoughts on Logic vs. Emotion.
Have you ever wondered why addictive behaviors are so hard
to quit?Be it embarking on the latest
fad diet and cutting out everything but carrots, to stopping yourself from
calling your ex at 2AM on a Saturday night, why are these things so hard to
stick to?Why is it practically
impossible for your friends to pry your iPhone from your Vulcan Death Grip
while texting said ex at an ungodly time of night, because you simply MUST
communicate with them RIGHT THIS INSTANT or you might quite possibly spontaneously
combust?How many times have you sworn
off calling this person, only to find yourself speed dialing their number on
repeat, like a broken record?I’d like
an honest answer here because I’m pretty sure we’ve all been there at one point
or another.Highly reminiscent that
scene in Swingers when Jon Favreau calls
the girl he met at a bar around 50 times and leaves ridiculously awkward messages
on her voicemail.
How many times have you decided to give up chocolate in
hopes of one day being able to fit into your jeans from high school that you’ve
been saving for all these years, only to find yourself positively obsessing
about the stuff.If someone shares a box
of Girl Scout cookies at work, do you stare enviously at your colleagues who
are “allowed” to indulge in what has now become your focus, your obsession, the
bane of your very existence?Do you now
somehow believe that your life would be complete if only you were allowed to
taste the sugary, chocolaty, buttery goodness of ONE MORE Hershey Bar?Heck, you’d even settle for a single M&M
at this point!And go out into the freezing
rain in the middle of the night to get one.
Well, I have a theory on the subject.It all comes down to the simple reality that
we want what we can’t have.Bottom
line.The grass is always greener, the
wine really is sweeter, on the other
side of the hill.At least in our own
minds.Because really, would you be
obsessing about this ex or chocolate or <insert your favorite forbidden fruit>
here had you not decided that they were off-limits?You probably didn’t even eat chocolate all that much.You probably didn’t even like
your ex.But the second they are now
officially persona non grata, how much more do you crave just one last phone
call?One last encounter?One more bite of chocolate mousse?
The irony of this scenario is that the only person denying
ourselves the right to consume chocolate, or speak to a particular person, is
ourselves.No one is breathing down our
neck telling us we are no longer allowed to eat carbs, only carrots, or a grave
consequence will ensue, such as lighting coming down to strike upon even
eyeballing a Ferro Roche.Nope, only our own guilty conscience will be the end
result.So, in the process of denying
ourselves what we have decided is no longer good or healthy for us, we essentially
place said object up on a pedestal, god-like, to be worshipped and relentlessly
craved.
However, as satisfying as that first bite into a Big Mac
after weeks of abstinence might be, isn’t it disappointing how the remainder
doesn’t taste nearly as amazingly wonderful, rapturous, and deliciously sinful,
as we had made it out to be in our own mind?Isn’t it kind of a let-down when your next encounter with your ex simply
reminds you of the reasons you broke up in the first place?Because he doesn’t like Neil Diamond and you love him.Because he is offended by your use of cacti
in decorative arrangements and repulsed by the sight of them.Because you can’t agree on even the most
benign of issues and proceed to argue relentlessly over who is the better
actor, John Cusack or Jim Carey, until you make a scene in a quiet restaurant
and are subsequently politely asked to leave.
We romanticize about our fond memories of things and people
we’ve blacklisted, that we’ve generally banished from our lives for our own
good.Why?Because we only remember the good times, and simply
want what we can’t have.Our hindsight
is not, in fact, 20-20, but through rose colored glasses.But why not simply rejoice in the fact that
you are now free of this unhealthy food, bad relationship, bad habit?Easier said than done.We fully understand logically why we should
no longer do <insert poor habit here>.It’s our emotional attachment to whatever it is we’re trying to quit
that gets in the way. And therein lies
the problem.
I’m not attempting to purport that I hold the solution to
this conundrum.But, I do tend to agree
with GI Joe that “knowing’s half the battle.” Will keep you posted on whether I
eventually solve the mystery, crack the code, figure out the other half. Until then, I for one, will shortly be embarking
on a frantic hunt through the streets of Manhattan for the largest burger I can
lay my hands on.And the richest piece
of flourless chocolate cake I can find.Followed
by a good old fashioned session of cyber stalking of <insert random ex of my
choosing> on Facebook, for good measure J.
On second thought, I’ll probably just stay in and watch a
rerun of Swingers and remind myself of
the fact that “You’re Money, Baby….You're Like a Big Bear, Man! You’re So Money!”
As we collectively lament the weekend coming to such an abrupt close with such beautiful weather, am thinking the Mama's and the Papa's said it best with the following song. Enjoy.
"Monday, Monday, can't trust that day, Monday, Monday, looks like it just turned out that way." "Monday, Monday...it's here to stay."
Next weekend is right around the corner, when we can do this again:
And they are still ice skating in Rockefeller Center. Bringing you live breaking rink status updates. The question now on everyone's mind, including my own is the following: Will they keep the rink going all summer? The answer is yet to be determined. Only time will tell....While the world waits in anticipation as this fascinating story unfolds, I will continue reporting on the latest breaking new developments.
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