Tag Archives: life

(Not) Lost in translation

278790E3-7D3A-4AE8-9C22-6CA27AF25C5CAt work last night I saw something new – a rare occurrence when you’ve been a server for 35+ years. A couple, an Asian woman and white man who were dining, had a novel way of communicating with one another – an electronic universal translator. It really seemed to come in handy as they made modifications to dishes and ordered their meals, but I didn’t notice that they used it very much for actually speaking to one another. It made me wonder about how men and women might be able to utilize such a device when they speak the same “official” language, yet lack a common emotional language.

One of the biggest challenges in a romantic relationship is communication. Even though we live in a world with a dizzying array of means to communicate, it still seems as if males and females approach this exercise in very different ways. It might be unfair to generalize and assign characteristics by gender, but, in my 51  years on earth, I’ve learned a couple of things.

In my experience, men don’t often initiate conversations about topics which might be difficult to discuss. It’s kind of the way I am about household repairs – I try to ignore suspected problems (the dishwasher not cleaning plates thoroughly, for example) until they became too big of an issue to avoid any longer. It’s almost as if those fellas (and I) are hoping that the problem will somehow resolve itself without any attention. Of course, it doesn’t really work that way and instead of the glitch rectifying itself, the malfunction generally grows larger and results in an even greater problem. Ignoring a problem doesn’t make it nonexistent, it just allows it to morph into something even more expensive to repair. My machine will help to prevent these kind of situations from occurring or , at the least, escalating..

If I were able to invent a male-female translator I would be sure to include a feature that measured levels of honesty. A relationship that lacks such a fundamental function will never provide a truly satisfying and healthy coupling. We all are guilty of lies of omission, I suppose, but a romantic connection between two should always include a sense of security when it comes to talking about tough subjects. More honesty eventually means more opportunities for creating a relationship that can provide a couple with the strength to stand up to the everyday challenges of life as a unit. Honesty can be scary, but lack of direct honesty is far more scary.

My prototype for a male-female translator would also come loaded with a function that demands that communication comes at regular intervals, i.e. there should be mandatory limits on allowing texts/emails/vms to go unanswered. Lines of communication corrode when they go unused and a lack of time devoted to one another will kill relationships faster than an iPhone battery dies. It isn’t realistic to expect a complete accord when it comes to communication styles, but leaving your loved one hanging for too long will create an unnecessarily adverse situation. My translator will be equipped with an electrical shock function that grows progressively more painful when one party fails to respond after a particular length of time or in the case of an accumulation of unanswered messages.

What have I failed to include? Additional features you’d like to add to my prototype?

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Filed under love, musings, Observations, relationships, Uncategorized

Two timing

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When you consider that I didn’t really own a car* until I was close to 30 years-old, the fact that I now own two cars seems kind of funny. While my initial plan had been to trade my Volvo in, I’m really glad that I was able to keep it. I’ve achieved a balance between the two vehicles, in terms of purpose, with the Mini being my commuter and road trip car and the Volvo being my errands, parking downtown and dog vehicle. It’s kind of cool – especially when owning two cars earns one the title of “baller”in the DelSo!

Switching between two vehicles, though, doesn’t come without challenges. For instance, the steering wheel controls for cruise control and the radio functions are on opposite sides of the steering wheel in my cars. This means I really need to check in mentally (probably not a bad idea when I’m driving, right?) when I’m looking to adjust volume or my speed. There’s also the perennial issue of my left foot looking for the clutch when I’m driving, which, I suppose, is better than not looking for the clutch. It’s all good.

It occurred to me last night that having two cars must be similar to dating more than one person. You have to stay on your toes to remember which companion likes Asian food and which prefers Italian. Who went to state school and who attended private university. Which one vacations at the beach and which one heads to the mountains to get away or any of the other infinite characteristics that define one person as being different from another.

To me, that’s way harder than becoming familiar with two cars. Which is why, I suppose, I’ve never been a good dater. How do folks casually date numerous people? I’m seriously not criticizing the practice at all, just curious. If you’re a serial dater, how do you do it? What are the positives? Do different companions serve different purposes? Help me out, friends. Maybe share your experiences about being in the driver’s seat when it comes to dating more than one person?

*I did purchase a used Volkswagen wagon in the late 80s for $200. It might have taken me 200 miles before dying on the side of Route 17. I don’t think that really counts.

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This indecision’s (done) bugging me

Sometimes decisions come: easy – eggs poached rather than scrambled, black boots instead of brown, while at other times the choices are far more challenging – like naming a child or choosing where to make your home. The really hard decisions, though, are the ones we don’t want to make, the ones we avoid because we don’t like the available options and are holding out for additional choices. Those, well those are the decisions that can haunt a person.

Recently I had to make one of those decisions.

It definitely was one of those really hard choices and more than anything I wanted the universe to tell me what to do. I had already given myself deadlines and conditions to be met and had created mental lists tallying the pluses and minuses of the situation. I was in turns optimistic, hopeful, sad and angry until I finally accepted that the position I was in unsustainable  because…

  • if you accept less than you want, then you get what you deserve
  • when you hold onto something that does not satisfy, your hands are full but your soul remains empty
  • it doesn’t matter how much you want something or how hard you work towards a goal if your efforts are not equally met
  • life is short and I can’t justify spending anymore of it being less than happy

Last night as I filled the tub with hot water, I reached for a bath bomb given to me by a friend. I couldn’t help but smile as I read the tag: Happiness.

Thanks, universe. I’ll take it.

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Filed under aging, friends, love, musings, relationships, stress

Pride

3071A35B-1508-45DC-ADC8-171657F43FBDFifty years ago this very evening, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee. I can’t help but wonder what he would think about the current state of race relations in our country. Would he have found his efforts to end racial discrimination and segregation to have been a worthy investment?

When Barack Obama was elected President I was filled with pride and optimism about our country’s future. He led the United States with an intelligence and dignity that made me believe that we had indeed made gains in reaching the Promised Land. Maybe our country had truly healed and was prepared and committed to move forward in a unified fashion. I was thrilled by the thought that black children in our country would at last see a reflection of themselves in our country’s highest office and with our first family. It was about time, don’t you think?

Today, though, I am ashamed of our country in its current state – and it isn’t because I’m a libtard snowflake sore loser either. Our elected officials are failing us and seem to be more motivated by their own personal gain than in improving the lives of their constituents. The president of our country damages our international reputation and imperils our national security daily with his unfiltered Tweets, juvenile bickering and outrageous lies and seems intent upon eliminating independent media outlets and environmental protection.

Martin Luther King, Jr., and all of the civil rights activists in our country’s history, worked so hard and sacrificed so much – and for what gain? Black men still lose their lives at a rate the defies any explanation other than inherent and persistent racism. The discrepancies in rates of incarceration when it comes to blacks and whites continue to be outrageously out of balance. Opportunities continue to not be offered equally. We live in a time when differences hold more weight than similarities when it comes to measuring importance and it doesn’t feel like its changing.

The few with genuine power are calling too many of the shots and we, as a citizenship, need to begin expressing our opinions and becoming more involved in the process. More participation, I think, builds pride. Working together often results in change. Let’s do it in the name of love.

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Filed under Events, Music, musings, Observations, politics, Uncategorized, Wine, winter, zaftig

Get Happy

451D325D-8917-4814-B3FC-ABDA81880233Happy hap·py

adjective. feeling or showing pleasure or contentment.

synonyms:

cheerful, cheery, merry, joyful, jovial, jolly, jocular, gleeful, carefree, untroubled, delighted, smiling, beaming, grinning, in good spirits, in a good mood, lighthearted, pleased, contented, content, satisfied, gratified, buoyant, radiant, sunny, blithe, joyous, beatific; thrilled, elated, exhilarated, ecstatic, blissful, euphoric, overjoyed, exultant, rapturous, in seventh heaven, on cloud nine, walking on air, jumping for joy, jubilant;

Do you see how many synonyms there are for “Happy?” It’s almost like the Inuits and the number of words they have for “snow!” If there are so many words to describe the state of being happy, why are so many people unable to find their way there? Is happy simply unachievable for some? I just don’t know.

Here’s what I do know – being happy should be a fundamental life goal. Intention, decisions, actions…all of these should be predicated upon an outcome of being happy. Understanding that we only have “one precious life” and accepting that we are completely responsible for our own happiness, in my opinion, should be the foundation for all we do. While this may sound incredibly self-serving, it really isn’t. Our own individual happiness isn’t necessarily achieved independently, but that doesn’t mean it comes at another’s expense. Actually, positively impacting another’s happiness can be a major source of our own personal happiness, don’t you think?

But, don’t you dare sacrifice your own internal happiness for another’s. Read that again. Don’t do it. Why not? Because it is impossible to make someone happy. That’s on them, my friends. No matter how much you care for someone, how consistently you support them, how frequently you model positivity and radiate joy…none of it makes a bit of difference unless they’re committed to figuring out how to achieve their own happiness. Trust me.

So, focus on whatever brings you joy, live your life with honesty, celebrate the positive, let go of what does not serve you and be grateful for each day you’ve been given. And, if that isn’t enough to cultivate happiness in your heart and soul, reach out for help from any and all resources available.  Life is just too damn short to not be happy

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Filed under aging, love, musings, Observations, relationships

Steps

In Italy, there are more steps than you can imagine. They’re everywhere. I remember my first trip to Italy, when I visited Liguria. I was so impressed with the beauty of the women – strong-looking women, with great legs from all of the walking they did, seemingly from terrace to terrace, probably with a glass of Pigato in hand. If there weren’t steps, there were hills and sidewalks to walk. The pace was comfortable, never rushed, and somehow life felt like something to be savored. It spoke to me.

I saw and felt a similar vibe when I visited Rome. There were steps everywhere and my legs got a workout carrying me all day as I explored the city. Again, there were steps too plentiful to count, and sturdy and attractive women. The pace was ideal and I found it easy to breathe there.

I thought about how steps in Italy actually took you somewhere. Your feet carried you from place to place and you felt, I imagine, strong from it. It wasn’t important, though, to measure or count those steps. I mean, what would a number measure? How many times you moved your feet? Who cares about that anyway? Do people really positively evaluate their lives on the basis of the number of steps they take in a single day? That’s just weird.

In Italy, everyone walks and navigates steps all around the country. The steps are what connect places to one another, city to city, town to town, village to village. Steps are how you get somewhere.

In America, people don’t walk regularly but they do talk about how many steps they have taken on a particular day. They wear devices to collect data about how far and fast they walked during a specific time period. People set goals and are encouraged and held accountable by their devices. It’s all about achieving a number, regardless of how you do it. A step is a step whether your eyes are open or closed. It doesn’t matter what you see along the way, the importance comes from a number.

I’m sincerely sorry if I sound judgmental. It isn’t my intent. We all take our motivation where we find it and I respect that truly. I was just so struck in the difference between the connotations of a simple word like “steps” in two different cultures. Maybe it’s time to stop counting and start going.

 

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Filed under Europe, favorites, Italy, musings, Observations, travel, Uncategorized

Thoughts inspired by dinner at Enzo29

img_4217-1Americans are always the loudest. They want everyone to hear them but they don’t know how to listen. I want to softly tell the table of 6-Got-SUNY-semester-abroad written all over them, (unfortunately not in invisible ink), that I adore their enthusiasm and excitement but couldn’t they enjoy themselves just as much if they spoke in more quiet voices?

Waiting for a seat in a restaurant that I saved my cacio e pepe cherry for. Sorry if that sounds vulgar. It wasn’t my intent.

The crew here is outstanding. The door guy, smoothly and with a discreet disdain that even Paul McCullough could learn from, was impressive. The servers all served smiles.

This restaurant is at the end of a street named Salumi… Come on.

If I knew how to say it I’d say “I’m so sorry I don’t speak Italian because it is such a beautiful language.,” to every Italian I was lucky enough to encounter.

I just said “no bread.” I had the bread last night and it was delicious. I didn’t need it again, though.

It’s ok cool to be recognized with smiles when you frequent the same trattoria two nights in a row.

There’s a man wearing a lavender, I assume cashmere, turtleneck seated directly in front of me. He isn’t even trying to be ironic.

img_4221-1Holy shit. This cacio e pepe is the best pasta I’ve ever had. Ever. Period. The sautéed chicory on the side is a spicy green vegetable nirvana. Contrasted, yet companionable, to the pasta it all creates something which can only be described as sublime.

img_4222-1This meal is one of those that can be described as “final meal request” material.

I ate my full leaving enough on my plate(s) to prompt a couple of queries to confirm that I had found everything molto bene. Si! I just wanted to save room for dolce.

The tiramisu was worthy of service in this very, very fine trattoria. Bene. Molte bene!

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Filed under Dinner, drinking, Eating, Europe, favorites, Food, Italy, Observations, Random, Recommendations, Restaurants, travel, vacation