Love Actually
May 19th, 2009 § 2 Comments
Love problems are hardly ever public, or at least the truth of relationships aren’t. Only when you’re going through a break up, separation, argument or some other related turmoil, do people start dishing on their own issues.
When I was younger I was unaware that relationships required work. I assumed conflict meant the relationship was unsalvageable. If the relationship wasn’t happiness, laughter and love — it was over. I have come to find that no relationship is devoid of friction at some level. Relationships require constant work, cultivation and attention in order to flourish for longer then the 3 month honeymoon period. Who has that kind of time really? Between work, life in general, sleeping and eating, fitting anything in between is difficult at best. I’ve always considered myself someone who was better at being alone and was okay with knowing that my life was destined for solitude – as long as it was barring becoming a crazy cat lady.
But then love happens. That moment when you meet someone you want to work towards something meaningful with. That person who you can’t imagine your life without and who you imagine building a life with. In such a case, all bets of sanity are off and when those types of relationships are threatened, people become irrational.
Love makes us do some pretty stupid things. We drive around parking lots looking for their car hoping to “accidentally” run into them. We convince ourselves that every song on the radio is relevant to our current state of torment. We hold on to stupid little sayings with reckless abandon as if they are the words of some magic remedy. We torment our friends with our endless recounting of the situation. We read our horoscopes trying to find something to help decipher what tomorrow will bring. We check our phones to make sure it has reception, convinced that must be the reason why it isn’t ringing. We stop eating or we eat too much, we stop sleeping or can’t bring ourselves to get out of bed. We cyber stalk them scared of what we will discover but too scared not to investigate.
In a strange way when it comes to love, we are all equal.
Addiction
April 17th, 2009 § 1 Comment
Some people struggle with addiction. Mine happens to be with sugar, compulsive eating and the rush I get from purchasing an item and then returning it the very next day. None of my current addictions are sexy like a heroine problem or alcoholism, but nonetheless I have my vices.
Over the past few years, I did struggle with a more serious addiction, which took most of my paychecks to support, it cut into my productivity at work and when I didn’t use I would get the shakes. Even worse, if I waited too long into the day to use, I would have to wait in line behind everyone else before I could get my fix. My addiction was Starbucks.
I was not faithful to any particular Starbucks, any one would do. Some are slower than others, some baristas got closer to getting my venti green tea latte to my preferred temperature but, like a true addict, I cared not where the fix came from, rather how it made me feel.
If someone were to tally how much I spent on Starbucks in 2008, I would be so bold to say it was somewhere in the same ballpark as the adoption of a trendy Somalian newborn.
For the better part of last year, I worked in downtown Los Angeles which happens to be sick with Starbucks on every corner. At promptly 9:30 every morning I, along with my current NGLP (non-gay life partner) and former co-worker Ilya, would begin the trek to any one of the 6 local dealers. We would brave the homeless, the hurried and the oversexed downtown public all in the name of getting the black gold. In addition, I would also brave the embarrassment of charging mine on my credit card on days where my bank account was too taxed to support my addiction. Which meant my coffee not only came to me terribly over priced but also with finance charges.
Ilya would always order a Iced Venti Latte with lots of specifics (as a side note we happen to think Iced Venti latte with Lots of Specifics would make for an awesome band name). Had she ordered a Tall, there wouldn’t be enough real estate to fit the directions for her lofty order. Her order (from the best I can recall): A Venti iced latte, easy on the ice, with 2 shots 1/2 regular 1/2 decaf with 1/2 non fat milk and 1/2 regular.
Today, I am happy to say that I have cut back on my Starbucks visits and probably only drink it once or twice a month. After all, I have better things to spend my hard earned money on, like a Somalian baby.
