A Thanksgiving for Friends giving

As the year end looms near, a ritual to account for our blessings is a practice of many. Where would we be without friends who give unwittingly? Specially during those moments of game changing experiences, when even the most solid among your circle confides I do not know where you get the strength to cope with all that has been on your plate.

Quietly recounting the past year, allowing for the opportunity to remember who helped me through it. Recalling how a conversation on the phone, an unplanned visit, a walk, an invitation to make dinner together made an impression. How grateful I felt for the brief levity provided.

I honor friends as the grist which makes life more satisfying. Friendship borne of patience, traversed over time, standing by you again and again, encouraging your every effort at doing good or doing the right thing.

In making me laugh through a difficult situation by recalling an unlikely incident (when both were younger), the gesture was auspicious and timely. It reminded me how I can grow.

An uncalled-for praise of a long forgotten achievement was given. The achievement at the time seemingly unattainable, because of lack of experience and gentleness towards self was not yet developed. Praise following praise for growth.

Others taught by example. How courage and joy for living combined, life can be faced head on. Upon recently hearing of a friend entering a facility for those living with Alzheimer's disease, I felt a mix of being crestfallen, yet assured. Sensing it was challenging, knowing you cannot attend to their need for constant attention, a husband’s choice to give safe haven gave my spirit lift.

Some served as witness and reminded you, the kind soul you are nurturing in yourself.

A few responded to a request, without hesitation, to be at your aid.

Acts of selflessness abound in my life, gifts from friends. A few not seen in decades, surfaced and offered words of reassurance.

The end of year is near.

Caring, love, and comfort are felt throughout.

Hail to our friendship.

Just moved and need to clean house

Whew, downsizing from a 1,000 foot sqr studio conversion, from a 1,000 sqr one bedroom condo, to a 680 sqr feet one bedroom.

To update the new abode, and pack out of the studio has been the chore for the past 6 weeks. Its been a sprint, between painting, floor layer, bathroom redux, and living in one space, while supervising the work at another...working and trying to have a semblance of normalcy...

What happened? Mom and stepfather decided to retire part time in the Philippines. Leaving me with the Porto Bello condo, one which I acquired for them back in '99, the good ole days. To maintain my "studio" rental and their one bedroom was not an option.

Have given and will continue to give away more stuff to the Goodwill and St. Vincent De Paul, left my 2 fellow warehouse tenant/friends with dividers partitions/closets (pics in earlier post when I moved in 2 years ago) and selling stuff on Craigslist. My hands are full.

http://sfbay.craigslist.org/eby/fuo/2725052046.html
http://sfbay.craigslist.org/eby/fuo/2725072814.html


Meanwhile as I started to arrange the furniture in the new home, everything is out of scale....now liquidating old stuff to go towards smallish sectional for seating, rethink dining area (most social of spaces), and reconsider the work space allocation again. Pics included.

Dealing with construction dust, finding limited storage spaces for non-priority boxes to be unpacked.... ahhh condo ownership, downsizing and moving....

I am thankful for having these challenges in our time of hardship for many.

A Flower

A Flower

Blossom
an ode to perfection
A note beat in the rhythm of time
Every beginning
each breath and reach for life
in harmony with nature’s force
Shimmering under the brutal light of sunshine
Unflagging in the pouring rain
Quietly it calls
look at me
see
inhale
linger
embrace
drink
partake
set forth
to all and sundry
couple
allowing me to be
a part of the next me
Petals fluttering
eyelash to its cosmos
Standing here with you
till
placed in a vase
pressed onto a page
pictured in someone’s memory store
or decay
and joined
with you
again
mother earth.

dedicated to kevin w



image from Kevin W Autumn
©dt11.1.11

Creative Output

Dear Reader,


Since reengaging with the blog spot, I noted my creative output (post labeled prose) have been a more prominent component of these chronicles. Links are provided with each title (when scanning with your mouse).

The ode to Orange seems to have struck interests --highest ranking page view of all the “original” material.

The Hair Issue ranks second among the most viewed, irony strikes if many of you may recall the time when I had waist length hair and the devolution to the “shortening” of the coif.

Crossed Paths was a piece about youthful recollections. Perhaps, the arrival into middle age has given me time to remember memories that were created.

Regret, the most recent post, is one that I am perhaps most keenly in the midst of… Triple convergence of life events, swept me down and under, warranted its airing.

I am extending my appreciation to my readers who’ve brought me to over 1600 page views. It’s heartwarming knowing one has readers.

The SINGLE MAN TIPS the HAIR issue prose

the hair issue


beards and staches
are appearing in many forms
from the regular guys at the ball park
to bikers
and pedal pushers
trimmed or not
shadow
waxed handlebars
a manly do?

haircuts
social marker
men reverting to boys
past trends
Ceasar
Faux hawk
Crew or Flat top
Shag
Razor unkemped
Short appeal to harken back to eras gone by
Do we really want to go back to the 50’s?
Apple pie, Chevrolet and
Nostalgia for boomers approaching golden age

expressing yourself
conformity
style
fashion trend
or a flair for savoir faire
elan
fashion victim?

appeal
head turner
second look
regular Joe
boy next door wholesome
sophisticate
trendy’s
the poufs,
and what happened to Metro Sexual

Hair
Mane
the moon was in the Seventh House
Did peace guide the planets
And love
steer the stars
The Age of Aquarius
we still await

TRAVEL FLOTSAM

Bear in mind from the 4th of July through the 20th of Aug, I have flown to NOLA, Kansas City and Atlanta.

Business and leisure travel is no longer what I remember. The routine of preparation seems to take longer, contradicting the efficiency that was to come with technology. Have we piled on more task in our “to do” list?

With our American penchant for doing it ourselves (DIY), I am expected to confirm flights, hotels, ground transportation because of the “ease” that comes with the internet. Further, you can opt to check in on-line, that includes your luggage, so as to arrive at the terminal to be greeted by the pre-printed destination tag. Yet one stands around the baggage carousel waiting for the suitcase to come full circle, even with the priority tag attached to your luggage.

At the carrier’s website, you are presented with options: paper vs. e copy version of your boarding pass or “sent,” e-mailed to your smart phone for scanning at the security and gate.

WORK prep time involves, copying files onto thumb drives or storing into the cloud, email vacation responses to be created and saved, and a glance at the meeting agenda and meeting scheduler made available on line. Printing out papers/articles you want to work on, while on transit, because it is likely one of the few times when the phone and desktop is not commandeering your attention.

Luggage fees are taken, food purchase is available on flight, and on-board entertainment can be charged to your debit or credit card. To ask for a blanket, a pillow and a headset adds additional cost. Why not simply add these to the ticket’s cost at time of purchase. This is not my idea of a good deal. I feel nickeled and dime’d, and it adds that extra harrumph to the cumbersome trek across country. I digress.

An exercise in patience when dealing with the tediousness of TSA “security” check; do you stand in the line with an infant in tow, the elderly couple on their way to see other family members, or the efficient looking under 30 something whose appearance suggest they slept in their clothes in order to get to the airport on time.

Hotels do not fare better in contributing to the list of things to do, example, double check the amenities, is there free Wi-Fi at the lobby? Is there a gym, indoor/outdoor pool, dry/wet sauna, or on site spa? Have you wondered why we have a hard time speaking about our notions of social class? Hotel choice can really divide the business (leisure) class, vs. those of the motel/lodge/inn frequenter (proletarian); or to consider a boutique hotel vs. corporate monikers, for those exercising a liberal bourgeois orientation.

One can almost opt to stay home, if that was truly an option for itinerant professional white collar workers.

Part of the hassle of business/leisure travel is not “just” about the going, getting and returning. Seeing the surlier side of human nature at its ebb confounds it. What happened to customer service, courteous passengers, helpful flight attendant’s and ground crew?

Or is it, are we collectively experiencing the hassle of doing/producing more with less? Then there is the preoccupation of placing our immediate discomfort and anxiety, ahead of considering what others may be undergoing?

My fellow travelers, we share the same cramped quarters of a flying tube made of steel, plastic and rubber, catapulting us hundreds of miles, defying gravity, and relying on thrust, can we make an effort at equanimity?

Discourtesy seems rampant in the service industry, from hotel desk staff to the restaurant host obligated to seat you at your reserved table. It seems that I am a disgruntled frequent flyer. Yes, I am and I try to also treat others along the way with courtesy, if not an occasional smile.

Do you have travel notions you wish to share?

Crossed Paths (Travel Tales circa 1980's) - PROSE

Friends made and lost

Twenty something
non-American citizen
back-packing in Europe
recollections relegated to flashes of memory
a few names remembered, most long forgotten
images captured in notes and slide photos
or held in grey matter

recently graduated law students from Denver and Bologna
spoke of the uncertainty of what's next

the helpful ferry conductor in Bruges
who lived in San Francisco
made being detained at the frontier
more than passable

a retiree met at the front of the church of our lady
Michelangelo's Madonna
sole sculpture outside of Italy
can be found and spoken of
with so few words

a young dentist from Bern encountered in Madrid
Puerto Rican writer on the train
sharing Fundador, speaking on the promise of America
two boys from Porto met in Carcasonne
along with Gerd of Hamburg and Pascal from Paris
breaking bread and sharing my first screw top bottle of wine
it seemed newly minted men from University were on the road

an office worker from Tokyo
a soldier from Israel happened upon on the Grand Canal
while we walk spoke of the Doge, the Piazza
Byzantine architecture and their rule
Julian of Johannesburg
in Munich, the Olympiad and Dachau became our destination

Near the Vatican, a Filipino family touring with their daughter
who lived in Zurich
during my visit enroute to kin in W Germany
words on paper prose for a tree
written while sitting in her kitchen

travel memories seep in
uninvited and welcomed
stoking heart memories

©det

KC MO (Travel Tales)

New to me and notable: Did you know Hallmark the purveyor of greeting cards is based in Kansas City MO (KC MO)? Complete with its Museum housing all the TV commercials hawking its products, a city’s tourist destination. Coming into Downtown, the trains lined up pointing in the direction of the central business district (perhaps to off load/on load the State’s agricultural products including cattle) with the train tracks running parallel to a major traffic artery, an interstate along the Missouri River is distinct. Then one passes the Folgers Coffee roasting facility, and Garmin’s headquarters are footnotes. A newly opened Opera building, contemporary in design, looks like a giant electric turbine (harnessing the water’s energy, akin to WPA projects of past) is striking across the horizon. Such is the cityscape.

Looking at a US map, it appears KC MO is the center or “middle” of the country. The metropolitan area is populated with 2 million people. This place is noted for Kansas style BBQ (wrongly attributed to other side of the river) and jazz as its major contribution to American life. Though after a few days visit one still does not feel there is a there “there.”

Locals with whom I’ve struck conversations say life is easy, affordable, and KC suffers from an inferiority complex. Locals speak of the giant cow, the city’s mascot, signaling it still is a cow town. On exit, one cannot fail to notice the Hereford Association building, trumpeting cattle is raised here.

The newest proposed urban redevelopment project will be the conversion of the one-time Hyatt Regency into a Sheraton, and another of its property the Westin at the end of the “Link” will be rehabbed and upgraded. Both are showing their age and wear. 70’s architecture of concrete, glass and steel made to look like Eastern European proletarian structures. Why not tear it down and start over again?

The Hyatt Regency is noted for the internal collapse of its walk way/passage spanning the residential tower and its meeting/convention space. The fourth floor “gang plank” dropped onto the 2nd and down onto the ground floor. It is said this was the most tragic incident in KC MO history. http://ethics.tamu.edu/ethics/hyatt/hyatt1.htm

The reader might ask, what were you doing in KC MO? I was a speaker at a conference in mid July on Gambling Addiction and Substance Abuse, allowing me to stop in on this American city.

A Filipino in New Orleans

During my most recent visit to NOLA and strolling in the Quarters (French Market, Bourbon St), on numerous occasions I ran across the Philippine flag's color as backdrop to the recognizable 3 Fleur de Lis emblem of New Orleans. These flags/banners were flown by merchants in the fronts of their businesses. I wondered if these sightings are associated to comments made in past visits when people whom I met and chatted with, upon learning I am Filipino warmly volunteered “someone in my family” is Filipino (by marriage).

Reflecting on these incidences potential meaning, I read up on Filipinos in New Orleans. There is a written reference in Harper's Weekly during late 1800's (cited in Wikipedia) discussing the Manilamen along the shores. I remembered a librarian from the University of New Orleans giving a talk (during my undergraduate years) on the same topic Manilamen and their settlements near and around the Orleans Parish. These were Filipino men who off-boarded from the Spanish galleon fleet, near what we now recognize as New Orleans. My fellow countrymen settled in St. Malo, Jefferson, St. Bernard, and Plaquemines Parishes.

What does this mean for me? Beyond, I feel comfortable here. A contributing source to these feeling can be attributed to A, a dear and old friend who resettled here, and fostered my many discoveries. My first memory of New Orleans centers in waiting for her and the U-Haul’s arrival, the year before Katrina. I volunteered to drive down from Boston with her, and we agreed instead I would help her unload her belongings into her home (previously her grandmother’s) in the seventh ward. New Orleans struck me as welcoming and vaguely familiar.

Back in my stroll, I begin to wonder if the range of skin tones contributed to feelings of somehow belonging, or whether others related to my facial features, marking me as a possible inhabitant/resident past or current. Musings of a traveler who experience a sense of place like nowhere else I’ve been. Having been in many cities in the US and abroad, I find myself drawn to this place, a most ‘not American city” in the country.

Separately, I observe the relative ease in how people live their lives. Whether during the heat of summer, the temperate fall and early winter and during the holidays I’ve found myself celebrating with A, often I see families with young children and elders together. And it is not uncommon for folks to greet one another in the streets, or stores, pulling over their car and inquiring about family and kin.

On this recent trip, A and I visited many of her local haunts, including shrimp and crab palaces/shacks below the Interstate; Bullits a local dive bar where neighborhood “Creole men” can often be found; Bywater (near the Industrial Canal and old Miss river) where many local migrants resettled since it was not affected by the floods of Katrina. Changes in the immediate neighborhoods of the 7th ward are becoming apparent, more people, more street lights are lit, and roads are being repaved.

Among my cherished memories in this last visit is the taste of “Creole Tamale,” where the vendor instead of corn husk used parchment paper. Throughout my food adventures the subtle but richly spiced New Orleans style was front and center in my palate. Spicy different from hot, associated to the pepper heat, familiar to us who enjoy Mexican, Vietnamese, Indian or sometimes Thai food. Nawhlins cooking is a richly blended flavor giving the food both complexity and heat. A case in point, on the 4th, on our way to the airport, we stopped at a coworker and friend of Ginger’s for a BBQ. We sat outside, had a pile of “memorable” bbq’d chicken and pork. It was savory, sweetened by the tomato based sauce, managing to taste smoky and peppery. I chowed down as A described, noting my finger licking action, the mound of red beans and rice, and potato salad which complimented the meal.

As a traveler, I find ways to better understand inchoate impressions adding to my sense of the place. Of all the cities in the US I've seen through work and wanderings, Nawhlins stands out. Is the magic special to this place, its notable practice of Voodoo, entered my conscientiousness?

Single and the Dating Life: More Tips for the Dating again Set

A (mental) list maker, thought to expand an earlier Dating (again) Tips.

Grooming habits for the man who does not see himself as “metro sexual” (personal hygiene, manscaping or man-tainance); a bath seems to be something men rarely do. Missing out on the restorative value of a bath with Epsom salt (magnesium sulfate), known amongst many as a curative and a relaxant. Being relaxed at a first date is essential. The meeting is already laden with anticipation, unspoken expectations, and a pull to simply have a good time. Why not start out in a calm state. Go for it, draw a warm bath, add Epsom salt, bubbles and bring your rubber ducky –let it be fun.

During the prep phase, consider exfoliating by use of salt scrub, face scrub or mask. Gently get rid of the old skin, you will achieve a natural glow. You will be surprise how black heads and other "face" related concerns can be soothed away. The intention is to feel your best and you will look your best. Secondarily, help yourself maintain a more youthful look.

I do not mean for grooming to be a compulsive habit, but a practice that gives you an added boost of self-confidence. It also marks for you, a date's importance in your social life.

A friend commented after reading an earlier post; speak to "how do you get into the dating pool." For those reticent to simply dive in head first, what can you do after exhausting your friend and family network?

For some, signing on to OKcupid and match dot com are their first inclination, online dating services are just one of a few options for a busy working person.

There are many greet and meet whilst participating in favored activities sponsored by various organizations i.e. scrabble and board game players, tennis and other sports, hiking and walking groups, wine and dine. Give a call, sign up for an activity, and meet new people.

Another is the classic "water dispense/coffee maker" chat among other singles or recently married coworkers. They are not necessarily your friend per se, but they may have ideas on what to do, and where to go meet other singles. Those recalling/ relishing their more recent memories of single-hood may have places that come to mind faster than your roommate.

Something about dating rules, are in order. In the age of post sexual revolution, information age, transitory work/home life, what are good standards to abide by? When both sexes can asks someone out, going Dutch (paying your own way) is a real option, who calls and who plans? It doesn't matter. If the other person does not know you are interested, there will be no next step.

Be first, ask. Let the other person know of your interest in getting to know them etc... If it’s coffee or Happy Hour (HH), no harm done in making a move and getting it started. Can I call you again? I sense anxiety among readers rising, avoiding rejection, temper it with the pluses. You had the courage of your conviction; if the answer is yes, you have an opportunity to explore the infatuation you have held or the spark of interest which caught your attention at the start. As they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained. In our mid-years, no is simply a no. Try not to pile on your baggage.

Before I close, another friend commented on text-ing to ask someone out. She considered it cowardly, though you may not agree; your voice comes across as a human being interested in meeting another person. You may think yourself clever with a one-liner on a device, but its chicken poop.

Stay tuned for another edition of dating (again) tips.

Where is Daniel? NOLA for the 4th

Need I say, I heart Nawhlins... It is humid with triple digit temperatures in the day time. The vibe easy and life is --slower. In Porgy and Bess, "summertime, when the livin is easy" obliquely refers to Southern hemisphere summers, where all effort is about exerting as little effort as necessary. I digress.

ESSENCE the biggest "Black" festival is happening in the most Not-American City in the US. There are many family reunions, celebrations, and folk coming to town and enjoy the newly minted traditional weekend. The 17th Essence Festival, music in the Superdome main stage and in the super lounge, the workshops and vendors in the Convention Center, and people along the river. The lead up was apparent at LAX, while having a pizza and Caesar’s much chatter about the Fest can be overheard. The flight to Louis Armstrong Airport was full, not surprisingly the majority are African Americans.

The Quarters (Vieux Carré) and Bourbon Street are ready associations with NOLA; more recently the lower 9th ward and Katrina; among food and jazz enthusiast the Crescent City probably have few challengers; and for Freshman's what may bring them is the open bottle "poured into a cup" policy in the Quarters.

NOLA has many neighborhoods, the (French) Quarters, Garden District, Bywater or Marigny, Uptown, and small enclaves within the wards. I favor the 7th, the dividing line and a major road is Esplanade stretching from City Park to the River. Tree lined, Creole mansions and homes stand attending to the street more gracious than the better publicize Garden District. The 6th and 7th Ward has no trolley cars, popularized by Tennessee Williams play, which served the Garden District and the French Quarters. Elysian Field however, is a familiar track, since I travel this way from my friend’s home one block from the 3rd pump house.

Fortier Park (Esplanade, Grande Rue St. John and Mystery), where the 6th and 7th ward converge, is a shady patch of grass. On Thursday's at 6pm a drumming class for local kids and adults are given. I got to experience it on Friday, since my friends who teach the class had a pre-Essence gig in the Quarters. After the drumming, we sipped wine at our once often frequented local wine bar and chatted with others in our tribe. Earlier that afternoon, A and I drove into City Park, learning many of the old Oak Trees I wanted to visit were taken down after the last Hurricane season. The park more manicured, lost the fabled "old plantation" grounds feel to the place.

Change is coming slowly into New Orleans neighborhoods, with exceptions for the insured areas in the city. The rest still hold lingering reminders of Katrina’s devastation.

June and PRIDE 2011

June 2011 is a peculiar month. It began with marking the 30th year of HIV/AIDS being in our midst and will end with Pride Festivals and Parade in NYC, SF, NOLA, Minneapolis, Chi town, SEA, OKC, Wichita, and Harlem. The convergence of both markers in my in American life is queer (pun intended). The 4th Sunday of June is most often attributed to the Stonewall Protest/Riot, when a group of drag queens along with other same sex loving people launched the present day gay movement in the US. Pride became a celebration of an uprising, to be no longer subject to police brutality, being treated as an outcast or social pariah.

I recall attending NYC Pride in ‘94 when many in the LGBT community marked 25 years post Stonewall, and coinciding with the anniversary was the Gay Games. What struck me, as the march snaked through Mid-town --the mass of participants appeared like a walking Gap Ad. Most wore the uniform of khaki shorts, faded T’s, baseball caps and not surprisingly made up mainly of mainstream/dominant culture homosexuals and their friends. Though I walked with the Filipino contingent, made up largely of New Yorkers and their visitors, a handful in Drag; the absence of transvestites, transsexuals, Drag Queens and “fringe” members of the broader gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community was noticeable. Most stark was the closing ceremony of the Games, held at Yankee Stadium, as attendees packed trains in the Subway ride to the Bronx, the irony of a ballpark filled with affluent white men did not escape me.

A few years later at Toronto Pride, I was less surprised and anticipated the majority of celebrants being members of the dominant culture/class. Canadians do not strike me as having a conflicted identity around privilege. Different in that encounter was how wide the range of self-expression that were being cultivated. Punks, walked with leather men, mixed with fairies, bears, and transvestites. Float contingents were gender mixed, as well as the pedestrian only areas off Church Street. I capped this trip with a 4th of July celebration with a friend’s family in Jamestown, NY. She and I ventured to Toronto, mainly not wanting to be in San Francisco for Pride festivities, and secondly visit with her parents for the American holiday.

Peculiar and mix are the sentiments I have about this month. Odd in having lived and worked in ground zero of the US side of the Global pandemic; yet still observing the integrative challenges of a movement largely defined by moneyed and powerful men; and perceiving race, class, gender, nationality, in an increasingly divided society will never cease to be the fly in the ointment. HIV and AIDS can be characterized as a disease of disparity.

Wondering aloud, if there is reason for Pride festivals? Do we celebrate our inordinate self-importance, achievements, and advantages when many others are denied their dignity? If however, we mark the 4th Sunday of this month as a community of people who value in ourselves and others self-respect and esteem, use it as building blocks towards a less divided nation, then I can see my mixed feelings as merely passing.

The color Orange

It's summer in our hemisphere.

The light of day lasts through 8:30 in the evening of late
Skies greyed by morning fog and auto fumes,
less an ocean breeze
blows it inland
Sunset drama play

The fruit orange
(Clementine, Mandarin, Tangerine, Satsumas, Kumquats, Tangelos, Bergamot, Oranges, Persimmon)
evoke eternal summer and signaling fall.

The flower orange
California poppy, Nasturtium, Sunflower, Asiatic Lilies
all-presence, gentle invaders
in our ecozone

Color of fall and harvest
pumpkins, gourds

Its combination of red's energy and the happiness of yellow,
the sun's color in our mind
signaling joy and balmy tropics.

Orange as a color
identified with visibility
safety
midpoint between yellow and red

Red-orange hot ember
conjures passion, pleasure and thirst for action.

Saffron robe and alms-giving.
Sacred dress for Hindus and Buddhist

Amber, burning stone
musky resin
preservative

Gold, precious metal
pliable at twenty-four,
ever present as fourteen,
gilded Vermeil.
©det
Do you have other associations to the color Orange?

Tips for the First Date

For a lighter read on these gray days in the Bay Area, thought to add tips as subject matter. As many of you know, back in the dating world, roaming and ranging.

Imbedded will be more than one tip in this blurb. Tip(s) for first time (again) daters.

Groom to your hoped for standard. It's time. Have you noticed the secondary gender/sex characteristics making its appearance? Hair where none grew before! or more hair where none are needed (clue: ear hair, Einstein eyebrows, or free roaming beard hair). Shape via professional or trim judiciously (in the comfort of your home). Some of us refer to it as part of manscaping, I much prefer man-tainance.

It is said, a standard for not showing your age is the lack of wrinkles in your face, translated to liberal use of well blended sunscreen. But, have you considered the condition of your hands? For me, a tell-tale sign of aging and somewhat little regard for the importance of a hand shake as part of a first impression. A manicure maybe in order!

Glean your wardrobe, combine casual comfort and “in season” style. A positive impression can be made, by not looking like a much needed redux from an earlier non-vintage ensemble. In San Francisco, irony is expressed in many ways.

If you feel good, you look great. Do what is needed for you. Remember celebrities and the well-heeled have stylist and assistant’s, many of us do not --so plan ahead and put it together. It will be noticed.

Conundrum

Tis a puzzlement. A grown man, in middle age, who has a history of achievement respective to his career; having multiple love interest throughout his life; a few long term relationships which ended amicably with one maintained as a close friend, now finds himself stepping into the dating world.

First, naively, one doesn't conceive of being unattached again at this age. Second, to participate in the rituals of courtship, referenced and informed by an earlier time, feels arcane. Third, is there a point?

Naive by way of Mr. Wells oft paraphrase “we live alone and we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.” Romantic love seems momentary in the larger scheme of one's life, and there are times when the desire for love is based on an illusion. To befriend someone, as lifelong commitment, may or may not materialize.

Dating in the information age, how do you connect? Online dating sites abound, each championing a formula for finding the "perfect" match, while others limit themselves as hook up venues. Social circles are now peopled by married, partnered, co-parenting, or defining loving and committed relationships and have few single friends to whom you can be introduced. Family takes a pass in keeping an eye out for you, since you are no longer in the market, so to speak. What options do you have for meeting others with whom one can find the illusive spark of possibility?

Is there a point? Can one truly be honest with one self to say, you fear the possibility of growing old alone. What does the fear embody?

Age old questions about selves as evolving creatures. One question or an experience can give rise to more questions, not out of uncertainty, mostly a drive to "know."

Midlle Age - A man's new venture

Middle-age for many suggests a settling into a life course. For some, it is their first experience with solitude possibly resulting from divorce or the end of a long romantic involvement dating back to High School or College days.

While others anticipate and navigate it with aplomb, throwing parties involving people from the decades lived, taking a sabbatical to delve into a question long held their fascination, or plumb inner selves.

Carved paths include: raising a family, coming to full stride in their small family business, climbing within the corporate hierarchy, or retreating to memories of what was their youth. Experiences and emotions run the gamut.

What if you skewed these well-worn paths? How do you measure your accomplishments? How do you speak of your worth? Recalling early ruminations on what will be my legacy (prose written and read on this very topic).

Trite sayings, marching to a different drummer; literary reference taking the road less traveled were mantras of earlier generations. It is a new chapter, moving towards s'aging with grace.

Context - being single

As the introductory post to the re-booted blog, the salient points of single hood for a middle aged, unattached, achieving and self-propelled among us maybe of interest to the reader.

The day to day of single-dom is unlike how it is conceived by many friends who are partnered, with children, or those responsible for their aging parents or other family members.

Primarily, they envision all the pluses: solitude, social and cultural life peopled by "interesting" habitué, dining and enjoying what the city offers, determined by a time going beyond the mere 24 hour day, and lack of tether. Bound only by how far you wish to exercise a sense of freedom.

The un-single perhaps may not grasp, flying solo also means: meals for one, which by all accounts implies plenty of reheated leftovers or cereal and oatmeal constituting sustenance. Or when waking in the dead of night, from a bad dream, in screaming out, and there is no one there to hear your cry or to shake you back to your senses. Then there are those times, when one is casting about your apartment (puttering) trying to figure out where something is, and no one yelling "you left it at that drawer by the sink." Such are some of the actualities for a single man.

The blog is not to recast notions of what single life is, simply to expand how it is dreamed of.

BLOG REBOOT

I've been considering re-engaging with the chronicle. Something along the lines of less frequency in posting, yet, articulates learning, insights and the joy and challenges of living.

In my head, I hear:
-- write about something you know about
-- allow for a range of feelings to come across
-- use the medium as a creative outlet
-- mirror/reflect on what is around you and affects your day

Mid May 2011

Months have passed since I last visited with my blog spot.

An eventful year so far: took on a full time work gig as Project Director of 2 five year prevention grants back in February; writing articles for peer reviewed journals from project data collected prior to September 2010; the end of a three year relationship; and accept the inevitable change likely to happen with my current housing which can mean another relocation.

Transitions seem constant, change manifesting itself, the principal plot in life's narrative.

The current iteration of my home, in place for the November apres Turkey dinner, is the most aesthetically suited to my current sensibility. The studio is open and also discreetly private. The artifacts, stories revolving around past friends, lovers, and folks who have an intimate sense of the evolving me.