At Least I Will Eat Well, This Week

I no longer eat gluten. My migraines occur less frequently, my skin is improved (or, at least, it is improved between the days when I have dates, but always seems to unleash its full fury the day of a date; I think my skin wants me to stay single), and I lost 10 lbs. without changing my exercise regime a single solitary bit.

Awesome, right?

Yes, in most ways. And now, I'm going to sound like the world's whiniest person.

Because I have very little to wear in the way of "Date Clothes."

I didn't date for about two years, and now that I'm dating again, I'm rapidly discovering that the clothes I wore pre-gluten-free-diet are, for the most part, too big.

I know: P.O.O.R. B.A.B.Y. (and then you make a gagging motion when I turn my back. It's cool, I understand).

(Also, with my broad, square shoulders, some of the things I used to wear when I was bigger now make me look like a freaking Greenbay linebacker).

For the date with Mr. Ihavenoideawheremylifeisgoing, I bought a shirt from Banana Republic to wear that goes with my limited color palette wardrobe rule/theory, wore it with my great-grandmother's gorgeous gold pocket-watch/necklace, and felt fabulous.

Too bad the fabulousness was sort of wasted...

But I can't go out and buy something new to wear every time I have a date. I'm a grad student. I don't have that kind of cash.

So I'm trying to figure out what to wear for the two first-blind-dates I have this week (one of which will take place with the Man of My Dreams. Pardon me while I run around the apartment shrieking at the top of my lungs for a moment. Okay. I'm better, now). I want to look like I tried, but not like I tried too hard.

Complicating matters is Houston's weather: it was in the 50s a few days ago, and now it's in the 80s... during the day. The temperature drops to borderline-chilliness in the evenings. Do I wear winter/fall clothes, or do I chuck the Southern Lady conventions and wear whatever the heck the outside temperature suggests?

I DON'T KNOW!!!!!

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a panic attack in my closet, for the next 3 hours.

Lessons in Love

I've written up a few helpful hints for all the fellas, out there, who are looking to spiff up their profiles on dating sites. Here's a few of them:

1. If you want to impress "the ladies," you should definitely post on your profile about how much you LOVE LOVE LOVE flying your airplane, and how you do it every weekend. Every waking minute that you are not at work, you are flying your plane. This will cull all the girls who actually want to spend time with their potential boyfriend, leaving only those who will give you time with your one true love: the airplane.

2. Post pictures of yourself skydiving, preferably while strapped to someone else. This will impress the ladies with how much of a manly dare-devil you are, while also letting them know that you're not too obsessed with keeping up a manly visage to allow yourself to be strapped to some other dude like an overgrown kangaroo that can't give up mom, just yet. Also, it will let girls know that, after they've taken out a life insurance policy on you, it will be fairly easy to get some cash.

3. Say that you don't have kids at home, but then include your son(s)/daughter(s) in every picture you post and include them in the "Things I Can't Live Without". Because, you know, they're not always at your house (wink wink).

4. If a girl decides, post-first-date, that you're not really her type, be sure to send her a passive aggressive email letting her know that, really, you couldn't care less, even though you had already planned the activities for your next date and sent them to her. Also let her know that you are, however, offended that she doesn't want to hang out and be friends.

5. If the lady with whom you are communicating, or attempting to communicate, does not respond favorably (or at all), and you decide to send her a message letting her know how terribly terribly disappointed you are, do not punctuate or even spell out the words. After all, you don't want to seem desperate, do you?

Trials and Tribulations of Dating

In particular, this is The Trials and Tribulations of Dating (and Rejecting).

I had my second eHarmony sponsored date this past Thursday evening. I was nervous, as is to be expected, because there were a few things about which I was curious. For instance, my date had multiple images of him in Iraq, but I didn't know if he'd been in the Army reserves, or if, for instance, he'd been in the military for the past 20 years (I knew he'd been "out" for a couple of years, however).

I also couldn't tell what, exactly, he looked like, although in his pictures he appeared to be in rather good condition.

All the images were, apparently, from when he was in the military, as he was in considerably worse condition, now, than he was in his images.

I'm not saying he was outright fat, and I know it makes me sound incredibly superficial, but the fellow was a bit short, compared to me: 5'9" to my 5'7 3/4". I have a requirement if you're only 2" taller than I am: you have to be able to physically pick me up and carry me 20 feet.

I know, it sounds silly, but it makes me feel less enormously toweringly tall (which I'm really not) in comparison to whoever I'm dating. And for the record, the longest relationship I've ever been in was with a man an inch shorter than me, but he was, as I like to say, "an impressive specimen."

So, now that I sound really superficial and arbitrary...

(Did I mention the fellow from Thursday also had a bad goatee? No? Well, he did.)

And then I found out about the military stint: he'd been working for his father, but he and his dad had a huge row, so at the age of 33, he found himself without a job, and he decided to join the army for 4 years.

Hmmm...

And now he's working for his dad again, and they're not getting along... again...

So, not much stability, poor relationship with parents, and now he's getting a degree in engineering, but he's not sure which branch he really wants to be in, so he might change his degree...

It was just all so fly-by-night and unsettled. Quite frankly, with my health situation, I have enough instability in my life, so I've decided not to go out with this particular fellow again.

Except, on Thursday, he committed a cardinal sin of first blind dates: he asked if I wanted to see him again to my face (after I'd had a couple of glasses of wine).

How do you tell a fellow who is a good conversationalist and who has just paid for two glasses of wine and assorted meats/cheeses that, yeah, you had a good time, but you have no intention of dating him?

You don't. You say, "Um, sure!" with a distinctive lack of enthusiasm, and then go home kicking yourself because you feel guilty because you let him pay, knowing full well you didn't want to see him romantically.

And then you decide to break one of your own rules of dating (since he broke one - this way you're even) and email him to explain that you enjoyed his company, but that you can't see yourself dating him and back out of the date he's already proposed for Friday (and which you're dreading).

No, I haven't actually emailed him, yet. Because he has a test, this evening, and I don't want to upset his equilibrium beforehand. But you can bet your bippy he'll receive an email around 9 p.m. explaining the above situation in as nice a way as is possible.

And I won't feel guilty for emailing it, either. Because he communicates solely via text message.

Public Self-Mockery

I'm getting ready to indulge in a bit of self-humiliation, potentially, so bear with me.

Hopefully, it will prove entertaining to you, Dear Reader.

Until this past Saturday, I hadn't been on a proper date in 18 months. It didn't particularly bother me - I didn't lie awake in bed at night wondering why boys don't like me, or anything - but it's kind of nice to have a man other than your father take you to lunch/dinner occasionally, and if I want to get married before I turn 50, I decided I'd have to make a change in my current MO, dating-wise.

Mind you, until recently, my current MO, dating-wise, was to ogle good looking men out of the corner of my eye while buying almond crackers in the "Special Diets" area of Whole Foods.

A friend had mooted the idea of joining eHarmony, a while back, and I decided I'd do it.

So, I'm now swimming in the murky waters of internet dating.

I didn't realize it would be quite so complicated.

First of all, I've thought myself to be fairly open-minded about appearances, lately. I'd see some decent-looking fellow - but by no means "a looker" - on the street and think, "Hm. Yeah, I could date that."

That attitude doesn't really work in internet dating, though, because then you will end up doing nothing but responding to the not-too-impressive-looking and rather shrimpy fellows and wasting time communicating with them when, in reality, you'd rather chuck them for the ridiculously good-looking professor who just emailed you. As it is, I spend 1-2 hours per day culling the herd, so to speak, so I can devote more time to the 4-5 "most promising" gentlemen with whom I'm corresponding.

So, my superficial tendencies - which I was so proud of myself for supposedly overcoming! - are back in full swing.

Then, too, there's the eHarmony concept of "guided communication," in which there is a carefully choreographed set of moves and steps you take before you send someone an email. You can, if desired, override this method and just send someone an email, too.

I've found, by and large, that most of the gentlemen on eHarm get to about step two (out of 4 steps, the 4th being email) and say, "Oh, to hell with this. Here's my email address. I can't stand any more of the guided insanity. I think you're gorgeous and intelligent. Respond if you'd like to."

Sometimes I respond. Other times, however, I go along with the guided communication , even though it can be tedious, particularly if you're already prepared to marry one of your matches, as I currently am, although I have yet to meet him, or even speak to him on the telephone, or even exchange an email.

I kid. (sort of - he is, quite literally, a long-standing and highly unlikely fantasy of mine come true).

I've already had one date, and it went well (I think?) and have another one, this Thursday. The amount of time I spend preoccupied with my wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear, has increased in tandem with the volume of emails in my eHarm inbox.

Hopefully, I won't end up with a case of "first date fatigue."

Grad School: Semester II

It's been a helter skelter kind of semester, this time around. Not as deadline driven (last semester, we had a project due every two weeks for the first six weeks), but still busy.

Part of the problem is that there aren't as many hard and fast deadlines, I think. There isn't the sense of immediacy I felt, last semester, that kept me working working working all the time.

I am, however, more satisfied at this point in the semester. The prospect of spending the rest of the semester on this one project - a museum of new media - is definitely a bright one, for me.

My other classes are also going well - I'm taking a Writing, Architecture, and the City course, and a Community Development Workshop class, and a Technology course (structures, environmental control systems, etc.). Last semester, the tech course was awful. We shared it with about 100 undergrads (in theory, at any rate, as most of them never showed up) and the course was geared towards where they were in their semester, with little or no correlation to our projects.

This semester, the grad students have a Tech course all to ourselves, and we're pretty much creating the class as it goes along, telling the professor where we are and what we need. It's a tech course as tech courses should be taught for designers, easily applicable to our studio projects.

Regardless, the semester work is keeping me quite busy. So busy that I'm hardly able to blog, what with the writing for my Writing class, creative writing, studio work, and community workshop work. Lots to do...

Last Round of Reading (for fun) For a While

I'm currently steamrolling my way through The Collected Sherlock Holmes, Vol. II.

Vol. I is history, already.

I read an interesting study of Arthur Conan Doyle's relationship with Harry Houdini (the two were, at one time, very good friends and regular correspondents), and it roused my interest in good old Sherlock Holmes. The last SH story I read was probably in middle school, and it was The Adventure of the Speckled Band. It was a good read at the time, and thinking back on it, I decided to explore some of the World's Only Consulting Detective's work.

I duly went to Barnes & Noble and bought Vols. I and II of their in-house published Collected Sherlock Holmes. Two volumes, over 1600 pages, for $16. Not bad. And not as horribly proofread or copy-edited as I'd expected (except I have a hunch that that one "sonic" should have been "some", and their scanner messed up).

I'm thoroughly enjoying good old Sherlock's adventures. I'd forgotten that they were told from Dr. Watson's point of view.

I'm also remembering some of the kerfuffle that sprang up when the first Guy Ritchie Sherlock Holmes movie came out a couple of years back. Some people were up in arms because Robert Downey Jr's Sherlock is a bit more rough and tumble than that of Basil Rathbone. Downey/Holmes is a more flawed, more frenetic character than that of suave, sophisticated, cool and calm Mr. Rathbone.

The thing is, the Sherlock Holmes in the stories is not so much a gentlemanly guy. He's essentially incapable of normal human relationships because of his genius (one of the reasons he clings to Watson so desperately). He boxes for fun, and with fellows who aren't of his social caste. He shoots up cocaine because he's bored. And Watson describes him as going into something of a frenzy when he's on the scent.

It's interesting, because I found Downey's version of Holmes much more interesting then Rathbone's. Good to know that Mr. Ritchie brings out the ferociousness of Holmes better than his predecessors.

All this being said, I enjoyed the first volume more than Doyle's later stories. It's understandable, I guess, since ACD was sick and tired of writing Sherlock Holmes mysteries - which he viewed as literary trash - and went so far as to kill off Holmes in one story, hoping that his publisher would quit hounding him for more stories. He eventually brought Holmes back to life, but the stories afterwards lack the joie de vivre of the earlier works, before ACD grew completely disgusted with the monster he'd created.

The best thing about the Sherlock Holmes stories? They're interesting, but not too interesting. They hold my attention enough that I'm not throwing the book across the room in disgust, but they're not so compelling that I stay up past "the point of no return," sleep-wise. I don't try to soldier through my exhaustion (as I so often do), but instead take a more "ho-hum. I'll see if Holmes survives, tomorrow" approach.

Excellent bedtime reading.

Music to My Ears

A few weeks ago, I was telling my sister about listening to some of the Oldies but Goodies in my music collection. I can't remember exactly what started the conversation, but I got to talking about songs by Sam Cooke, The Temptations, The Four Tops, Frankie Valli, Aretha Franklin: the music we listened to growing up. My dad mostly introduced us to the glories of music from the 60s while on car trips.

She asked me if I would make a mix CD of songs for her and my niece, and I've been working on it ever since.

My niece is now somewhere in the neighborhood of 18 months old, and she loves dancing (particularly to Tejano music, with its polka beats and rockin' accordions). I decided I would make two CDs: one for my sister with all those fabulous old love songs, and one so my niece could have a rollicking good dance party.

I just finished the two CDs, and I have to say that the one for my sister was much easier.

Why was the CD for my niece so difficult? Because I listen to songs' lyrics.

I had initially included several songs by Diana Ross and The Supremes on the CD, but when I went back and listened, their lyrics were not the light-hearted love songs I remembered them to be.

Diana Ross repeatedly sings about giving up all of her friends and making her family sad so she can be with some guy who doesn't care about her, who has broken up with her, in fact, and who she's pining away for.

That is not the message I want my niece to hear, even if music is, at present, just something to bop to while she eats eggs and ham at Goode Company Taqueria. (You should see her "Ham Dance": it's adorable!)

I've been pretty lyric-aware since high school, when I realized that my mother was paying attention to what the people in my music were singing (even if I wasn't). She was open-minded about Metallica, but not so much about Rob Zombie, which was completely understandable. It's kind of strange to be on the other side of that situation: paying attention to lyrics so that my niece - the love of my life - doesn't grow up thinking that she should be an emotional slave to any man.

Strange how a baby can change your perspective on things, even when the baby isn't yours.