"It's not you, it's me."

I have come to the decision that that line (or any variation of it) really only exists to make the person saying it feel better. The person hearing it, on the other hand, spends the next 24-48 hours hearing "It's me. It's me. It's me. It's me." over and over in his/her head and wondering what the hell happened. "What the hell quirk of mine was it that tipped the scale? Did I say something? Did someone else say something?"

Yes, it's true, gentle readers. I had taken a break from online dating to "see about a guy" (thus the lack of recent posts about awful dates), but it looks like I will be throwing myself back into the mix again after my next 2 weeks of too much work and travel are finished.

I was kind of hoping to be done with this dating nonsense for a while, but I guess there's still some more fun to be had out there in Singleville.

Rediculous dating tales will resume as soon as I can find time to go on dates again.

I kissed Matthew Perry!

(in my dream last night)

And then I wrote that blog title to tell the world.

I have no idea where this dream came from, or why Matthew Perry was in it (probably due to all the Studio 60 I've been watching lately), but it was a great dream. I was acting in a show (probably S60 - not sure) and was hanging around, waiting to rehearse my scene (which, apparently, I hadn't gotten a script for) and MP comes up to me and asks if I want to rehearse, and who am I to say no, right?

So we start rehearsing and at some point I realize that there's a kiss in this scene, and then we kiss. And then I start worrying that though I'm a perfectly good kisser in the "real world" I've never been taught how to do a screen kiss. But MP doesn't seem to mind, and in fact, after we rehearse, I think everyone was let go for the day, and he invited me to spend more time with him ("um, ok.").

I'm pretty sure there was more kissing involved (not in a "rehearsing" kind of way), but I think it was more implied in the dream, as I don't remember details.

I'm not sure what this dream means, exactly (dream interpreters out there... anyone? anyone?), but it made me laugh this morning, so it started my week off well.

Funny, I always thought I was more of a Bradley Whitford kind of gal...

I Have Issues.

Ok, we all knew this. But really. I have issues. Specifically, I have serious issues with overcommittment.

And the thing of it is that I can't seem to learn from the past (at least not at any significant rate).

A year ago, I was supposed to be cutting my full-time work down to half-time, and taking a stats course in preparation for grad school. I was supposed to be using all my free time to pack up my apartment and do all the things otherwise associated with moving across the country.

What I ended up doing was 30 hours/week at my "half-time" job, and taking on a second job at which I often spent 20-30 hours/week. I didn't take the stats course, but I did end up working 50-60 hours/week, being stressed every waking hour, and leaving myself not nearly enough time to prepare for my move, which is why the day I was to leave SF, I was still trying to figure out if I could squeeze the blender into my car, or if would have to be left on the curb (answer: it fit on my lap for the trip down to LA and I re-packed the car down there).

So this summer, I think that I might have actually made a tiny step towards progress on this overcommittment front. As it stands now, I'm still babsytting for the two families I sat for all year. This ends next week. So that's a day and a half a week. And on the other weekdays, I have started working in the office of the day camp I'll be working at this summer. Full-time camp work starts the week of hte 25th. So my days now (and in the future) are pretty full, but do-able.

And then there are my nights... I decided that I needed to learn both Spanish and Sign Language RIGHT NOW and so I have Spanish class on Monday nights and ASL on Wednesday nights. And I've had 2 trainings for work in the evening this week, and I have 3 evening trainings next week, plus an open house on Saturday.

How does this mean I'm making progress on the overcommitted front?

Well, the two classes are both community ed classes, and are not for credit. Therefore they don't have tests or homework (other than the generic "practice at home"). Also, I was going to take a for-credit class (yes, in addition to the other two) on Tuesday nights that I didn't end up taking.

Progress is slow... but it's progress.

A Prayer

I have only known your mother for a short time, but I already know her to be an incredibly kind, compassionate, gentle and caring woman whose presence is calming and reassuring to anyone with whom she comes in contact with.

I only met your father for the first time last night, but I know him to be an entertaining, friendly, and outgoing man - the kind of person you feel like you've known forever from the moment you meet.

And you - you I never got the chance to meet. But I know how excited your parents were for your arrival. I know they were working on painting the house and fixing up a room for you. They had picked out names (though they hadn't disclosed them yet), and were looking forward to sharing their lives with you.

But the universe had other plans, it seems, and you slipped away to another world today before we had time to share ours with you.

Baby Mello, I never knew you as a person, but I knew you through the hopes and dreams of your parents. Whatever greater power is out there, please give A and J the strength to get through this devastating loss. And give all of us - their friends and family - the strength and compassion to support them.

Gone Fishin'

Took a last-minute trip up to Maine Saturday to have dinner with my grandmother who just moved to Maine from upstate New York. I spent Sunday morning with my sister, then headed down to Portland to meet up with friends who live there, as well as a "special guest" who was in town visiting. We met up at the Yacht Club and headed out to their boat (which I had never seen). It was a beautiful day (though a little hot), and we just sat out on the boat, catching up, enjoying each other's company, and watching a 3-year-old "fish" with his Shrek fishing rod (apologies for the photo quality - a cameraphone and smudgy fingerprints do not a clear photo make).

I headed home to Boston around 8:30, and about 30 minutes into my trip, I saw a police car racing up behind me with lights flashing. I pulled into the right lane, and the car sped by me. I looked ahead, and there were a lot of brake lights on both sides of the highway, so I figured I was coming upon a relatively new accident scene.

As I drove closer, I could see many cars pulled off the road, and as I was waved through I looked to my left to see a banged-up SUV. As I turned my eyes back to the road, I saw a large pile in the middle of the road a little to my left, and when I got closer, I realized that it was a deer... no... a MOOSE.

Apparently, 'tis the season when moose are most likely to dart across the road, and because they're so big, it's rare for the car that runs into them (or the people in it) to survive. The good news is that though I have searched high and low for evidence of this accident online, I have found none, leading me to believe that this one, though involving many cars and one helluva large moose, was not fatal.

In other (happier) news, I got multiple paychecks this week, so I'm no longer bleeding money. This is good for many reasons, but most importantly right now, because this income will pay for the multiple pairs of shorts I have had to purchase for my new summer job. It sounds silly to whine about having to buy shorts for my summer job (especially to those of you who are working in jobs where you could never in a million years show up in shorts), but the truth is that I have very few (1 pair) shorts that fit me right now, and so I've had to invest quite a bit ($ x 4 other pairs of shorts) to make sure I'll have a different pair of shorts to wear each day of the week while working at camp (I'll be working with teenagers - they'll notice this stuff). And since my summer salary isn't particularly large, I'm allowed to whine a little when I have to invest in clothing for said job.

Anyway, I purchased a pair of Polo shorts when I was on a shopping spree at Ross Dress for Less in San Francisco last month. I have since decided that I love them, BUT they are last year's style, so they are impossible to find. I tracked down one pair on ebay, but they are a tiny bit too small, and I've been visiting every TJ Maxx and Marshall's looking for them for the past month. Yes, it's true, I've become a stalker of shorts. So on my trip up to Maine, I realized that there's a Polo outlet in Freeport (which is on my way home), and that they would be likely to have the desired shorts. Indeed, they did, and I purchased 2 more pairs, thus completing my summer collection.

Also while in Freeport I learned about the FREE LL Bean concert series. Wicked good artists - some of them - and at a price that can't be beat. I have decided that I will choose my weekends in Maine based on who is performing at Bean's.

Who's with me?

"29 is the new 21"

This is what three women in the bathroom of a dance club told me Saturday night.

I went out for an early birthday celebration with some friends. We started with dinner at Border Cafe, then moved on to Grafton Street, and ended the night at Redline. Redline (if anyone from Girl's Night Weekend is reading) is like a smaller version of the Shattuck Down Low in Berkeley. Same crowd.

What that means for those of you who haven't been to either venue is that it's a place where people go to dance. It's unbelievably crowded and hot and the music is loud. Most women go there to dance with their friends. Most men go there to dance with the women. Some of those men go there to pretend to dance with women, but really just want to rub up against them. You know - "dancing."

Good times.

Anyway, I (and everyone I was with) had been hit on by just about every guy around us. And just so we're clear, these guys don't actually say anything to you. They don't come up to you and say "Hey - want to dance?" They just come up behind you and start "dancing" with you. Classy.

I was tired of fighting off the "dancers" and needed a break, so I headed to the bar and got some water. Sitting by the bar is a young-looking guy (I later find out he's 24 - when did that become "young"?!?!). We make eye contact. He says something and smiles. I can't hear what he's said, so I look at him quizzically. He says, "Let me try that again. Hi, I'm Matt. What's your name?" I tell him my name.

"So, Phoebe, is it your birthday?" (I should interrupt my own story to tell you that a friend had been kind enough to purchase me a tiara and purple boa to wear, which kind of made me stand out in the crowd).

"Yes," I say "It is!"

"So how old are you, Phoebe?" asks Matt.

"29." I say.

*silence*

"No you're not," says Matt.

"Yeah, I actually am."

"Well, you're really hot for 29."


For that, I danced with him. Not "danced" but danced.



But his comment, and the comment from the girls in the bathroom got me thinking. I don't feel old. I'm not even afraid of 30 (yet). But their comments sort of implied that I should feel old.

In some ways I do feel old. Not "old" so much as "mature" (although even that word doesn't sound quite right). I feel really good about where I am in my life. I finally feel like I'm on the right career path, and I'm happy with who I am. So much of my mid-twenties were spent trying to figure all that out, and it feels really good to feel like I finally know who I am and what my priorities are.

But in other ways, I don't feel old at all. I am in a very similar place to where I was when I was 21, only I've made it through the awkwardness and learning experiences of my mid-twenties now. I still don't have a clue where I'll be in 5 years - or even 2 - but that's ok. There is a sense of mystery and, in a way, freedom in not having my whole life figured out yet, but instead of stressing about it like I did a few years ago, I can embrace it and just enjoy the ride.

So here's to 29. I enter into the year with no expectations - just the goal of embracing each day for what it is, avoiding stress as much as I can, and surrounding myself with as many good people as possible.

As promised...

So a while ago, I promised to share with you a tale of brunch and mermaids. Of course it is a dating story, and here it is:

My #1 rule of online dating is to meet the person as soon as possible. This keeps potential couples from falling into the classic "getting to know you over email" trap of thinking they know each other when they really have only gotten to know each other's email personalities.

So I was paired with this guy on eharmony.com (side note: I'm cancelling my subscription when it's up in a month not because the service is bad, but because they don't pair same-sex couples and have links to Focus on the Family and I can't stand the idea of any more of my money going to them.) (second side note: Yea! California!). We set up a date to meet up at MayFair in Harvard Square and walk around and have brunch.

So we meet up. Harvard Guy (he went there and has worked there for the past 12 years) and I met up in Harvard Square. MayFair hadn't really started yet and things were being set up. We decided to walk around Harvard Yard while we waited for the booths to be set up. However, on his way to meet me, HG had seen a painting he liked. He asked if I'd mind walking by the booth again to check it out, and I said that would be fine.

So we go to this booth. It has a lot of paintings. The paintings are all sizes - from 6"x6" to some as big as 2.5'x4.5'. He points to a painting that is 3'x3' and says, "That one. Isn't it incredible?"

I look to see a painting of a seascape. Only it's not really of a seascape. It's of a mermaid. Only it's not really of a mermaid. It's more of a mer-girl. And she is holding a starfish. A starfish with a smiley face. And there are more starfish with smiley faces sitting next to her.

"Wow!" I say, buying myself some time. "It's pretty incredible."

"Yeah," says HG, "I really like it. I'm just not sure where it could go in my house. I'm not sure it would match in my living room."

I'm wondering if I'm on Candid Camera, but I play along, while in my head thinking, "WHAT!? This painting is AWFUL. And even if it were a good painting, it would still be a good painting of a pre-pubescent mergirl with smiling starfish!"

We leave the booth to allow the wander around Harvard Yard, then go to brunch (where, at some point, he feels the need to give me one of his business cards), and then wander back through the fair, which is now going strong. We stop by the paintings booth again so he can ask how much said painting is ($350), and then he spends 10 minutes staring at the painting, trying to decide if he should buy it. We walk around the other booths, and he asks me again what I think about the painting.

At this point, I know there's not going to be a 2nd date, so I have nothing to lose. "Well, I love it - I really do," I say, "But you know how some of the other paintings are of mermaids? And this one is more of a mer-girl? I just think there's something a little pedophilic about having a pre-pubescent girl hanging on your wall."

"Yeah... I guess you're right... But I really like it!" he said.

The date ended soon thereafter.

More Tidbits

I fear I'm becoming more and more like The Burger every day I don't post, so I wanted to put something up so that I don't lose the 7 readers I have out there.

Thoughts on a rediculously hot and humid afternoon:

1. I'm not sure which is worse: a summer that is humid in a hot and disgusting "why bother to shower when I'm going to be sweaty in 5 seconds anway?" kind of way, or a summer that is humid in a "it's foggy and chilly and I haven't seen the sun in a week" kind of way? The jury is still out.

2. Mini-golf is awesome. I recently reconnected with a friend from college who is between jobs, and so we've been doing some daytime mini-golf. So far, we've hit both Billy McGolf Mini-Putt in Dedham, and Golf on the Village Green in Natick. I did significantly better in Natick, and though I like to think it is because I improved over the course of a week (never practicing between games, of course), more likely it is because of the good groundskeeping and lack of helicopters on the green, and the inspirational patriotic music being played all around the course (there's really nothing quite like putting while a rousing rendition of "Glory, Glory Hallelujah!" is playing in the background).

3. 30 Rock is hysterical. I was bored one night and browsing through my streaming video options online and I decided to watch a few episodes. It's great. (and so is the "The Disaster Show" episode of Studio 60 - recommended by LB).

All for now. I PROMISE (really!) that I'll write a post that is about just one topic and that has interesting photos in addition to links really, really soon (maybe even tomorrow!).