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Love and Off-Roading

posted 12th April 2012    Written by: Rachel    CATEGORY: All Posts, Life Lesson, Love/Relationships, Rachel, Season 6

“O Julia, Julia, cook and nifty wench,

Whose unsurpassed quenelles and hot souffles,

Whose English, Norse and German, and whose French,

Are all beyond my piteous powers to praise –

Whose sweetly rounded bottom and whose legs,

Whose gracious face, whose nature temperate,

Are only equalled by her scrambled eggs:

Accept from me, your ever-loving mate,

This acclamation shaped in fourteen lines

Whose inner truth belies its outer sight;

For never were there foods, nor were there wines

Whose flavor equals yours for sheer delight.

O luscious dish! O gustatory pleasure!

You satisfy my taste buds beyond measure.”

~PAUL CHILD

 

My boyfriend, Mr. Paul Child*, should have come with a release form, like the ones you have to sign before you go sky diving or zip-lining. It would probably read something like this: Every barrier in your heart will be broken down like a Tonka truck smashing into a Lego wall. You will be loved unconditionally, supported no matter how bizarre and nutball-y the idea, and you will become best friends. Prepare to be challenged, in a good way, and ready to laugh constantly. You will have to learn to not be such a city girl, embracing camping and off-roading, plus figure out how to pee in the woods. 

He knew on the first date we would be amazing together. I apparently eat paste, because I was a whole hell of a lot slower in arriving at what he had known from date 1.  We worked through quite a bit of issues, especially the +3 hour distance between us. I personally, had to figure out a lot of things, and let go of a lot of drama in my life, before I was able to get on the same page as him. Mr. Paul Child was patient and understanding through it all.  At this point in our relationship, life feels like a perfectly happy storm of chaos (traveling back and forth with horrible gas prices, and balancing two careers plus my soon-to-be business…ahhh!). We’re both head-over-heels in love, and figuring out how to make us work.

We recently went up to Northern Arizona to celebrate his birthday. He tossed an off-roading trail guidebook in my lap and told me to pick a trail near where we were. Apparently my trail picking skills are amazing because we ended up on a snowy mountain trail, plowing through 1 foot of snow, sliding around, teetering closely to the edge of sheer drops. He was in heaven. I clamped my hand so tightly to the “oh shit” bar that I had to pry it off a finger at a time, when we reached the end of the trail.

I don’t do very well relinquishing control. Allowing someone else to ferry me down a dangerous trail on a snowy narrow road…that’s the ultimate surrender of control for me. As I was bouncing along, clutching the “oh shit” bar, and looking out over the muddy trail, clumped with snow, I realized that while I was afraid at certain points (hello, adrenaline rush), the fear I’d felt when relinquishing control, wasn’t as panicking as it has been in the past. It was almost like that trust test where you are supposed to fall backwards and allow someone to catch you, just believing that they will be there. Scary, but you have placed your trust in that person.

I always used to find it suspect when people would say, “my partner makes me a better version of myself…” In fact, Mr. Paul Child even said to me that he feels like I make him more active, because I’m always on the go, doing something, dreaming something up. For me, he makes me calmer. “Spaz” is an adjective that is sometimes tagged to my name, but with him, I just feel relaxed. His tranquil presence has mellowed me in all aspects of my life, which is something I’ve never really experienced before. I’ve let go of the need to always control a situation.

While I didn’t totally enjoy the ride that day, the next morning, we went to Sedona and rode all over the red rocks. Climbing and bouncing along, we traveled to spots with sweeping red vistas and amazing photographic moments, I never would have seen from the road or the overlook points. Mr. Paul Child smiled knowingly, and I ate crow, admitting how much I was enjoying the off- roading that day. 

Letting go, is my current experiment, which is why I’ve agreed to go camping and to go on more off-roading trips. Mr. Paul Child is already planning our next adventure, and I’m slowly coming around. I’ve even asked him to give me a lesson in off-road driving…oh, Lord, I may become outdoorsy! Coming to a camp site, and blog post soon!

 

*Pseudonym for my boyfriend. Based on Julia Child’s amazingly supportive and loving husband. I always have told my girlfriends that this is what I’m looking for in a guy, and I finally found him!

 

 

 

 

Religion: His and Hers

posted 9th April 2012    Written by: Arielle    CATEGORY: Arielle, Love/Relationships, Season 6, Spirituality

Everyone has that friend who knows exactly how to push your buttons and set you off to the brink of wanting to rip your hair out, strand by strand (Wait, do you not? What’s that like?). For me, this person is my best guy friend. Each time I hang out with him is a new adventure in testing the limits of my patience.

Recently, we were having dinner and somehow got on a subject we’ve talked about many times before: how I want to marry someone who, like me, is Jewish.

He looked at me and said, “That’s kind of racist, don’t you think?”

Enter my frantic ranting and a level of frustration that, if I were at a computer, would manifest itself as mashing my fingers on the keyboard.

I know that his use of such an extreme word was specifically meant to drive me crazy (mission: accomplished) but now that I’ve calmed down, I understand what he was getting at.

In theory, you should date someone with whom you have chemistry…right? Religion doesn’t play into natural attraction. If it did, I wouldn’t have gone 28 years without ever being remotely involved with a Jewish guy.

Despite the fact that it plays almost no role in my daily life, Judaism is obscenely important to me. In a Venn diagram of adjectives I use to describe myself, the “Jewish” circle wouldn’t just be slightly overlapping with some of the other circles; it would encompass all of them. Judaism is not a part of me, it is me.

Blame it on my parents, who still to this day show me the joy of partaking in the rich, cultural traditions of Jewish holidays. Blame it on the private school I went to for 8 years, which taught me the Hebrew language and the nuances of biblical texts. Blame it on the fact that my grandmother and late grandfather spent years in concentration camps, and while they survived and established happy lives for themselves after the Holocaust, they always carried with them the knowledge that so many of their family and friends didn’t make it. Because they were Jewish.

For all these reasons, and probably others, my religion is a badge I wear proudly.

But back to the dating thing. I admit that if I met someone who treated me well and made me happy yet happened to not be Jewish, I would be a fool to end things on those grounds alone. So I wouldn’t.

In this way, Judaism ranks as a really-nice-to-have on the list of qualities I would love in a future husband. You know, somewhere below a must-have like an awesome sense of humor, and above a must-not-have like being a smoker. I would even rank Judaism above just a regular nice-to-have, like someone having the same last name as me (you may laugh, but come on, how awesome and convenient would this be?).

Despite the fact that it prompted someone to call me racist (even if just in hyperbole), I’m not ashamed to admit that I hope to marry someone Jewish. Why shouldn’t I want someone who also sees Judaism as an important part of his identity?

This issue raises a few key questions for me:

1. How much of dating should be based on chemistry alone, and how much should be based on preferences? Some preferences, such as my stated minimum height requirement (5’10”, FYI), get thrown out the window pretty easily if I have feelings for someone who doesn’t measure up (pun intended, booyah). But this isn’t always the case. When do I just let go of the qualities I thought I wanted and when do I use those qualities to evaluate whether someone is truly right for me?

2. Am I really being small-minded by wanting to date within my religion? Do I have misguided notions about the tolerant person I thought I was?

3. As someone who loves cheeseburgers and participates in an annual debacle called Santacon, should I maybe stop focusing on the religion of my nonexistent boyfriend and start strengthening my own connection with Judaism?

Seeing as I haven’t even been on a date in a few years, I probably have more pressing things to worry about than the above questions. But I still wonder about them. Maybe I’ll know I’ve met the right person when someone is so amazing that I just don’t care about the answers anymore.

(Photo credit: This is my actual bedroom door. My roommate took the inside photo when we were in high school. I was reacting to a very strong mint).

Stratejoy Essay Contest – Finalist #12 – Deanna Ogle

posted 16th February 2012    Written by: Stratejoy    CATEGORY: All Posts, Guest Post Rockstar

*This post is an entry in the 1st Annual Stratejoy Essay Contest.  Each day throughout the month of February, we will be featuring one of the 20 finalists writing their answer to the question: How do you live life on your own terms? On February 29th, we will open the voting to YOU, our community, to select the winner of the $500 prize.*

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Deanna Ogle (@deannaogle) is a writer and web designer from the greater Detroit area where she works at a small software firm.

A few of her favorite things are carnations, hair dye, peanut butter, and bluegrass.

When she is not working she can usually be found curled up with her husband watching movies.

She blogs at Soul like a Spider and writes for Provoketive Magazine.

 

 

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*This post is an entry in the 1st Annual Stratejoy Essay Contest.  Each day throughout the month of February, we will be featuring one of the 20 finalists writing their answer to the question: How do you live life on your own terms? On February 29th, we will open the voting to YOU, our community, to select the winner of the $500 prize.*

Sex and the Zerbert Test

posted 19th January 2012    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Love/Relationships, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, Travel, Travel/Adventure

My friend Rebecca* and I decided that we’re going to implement a new test to determine whether we should be dating someone. The name of the test is still in the works, but that doesn’t matter. The point is that we think it’s going to be really useful.

It’s a simple test, really. All you have to do is give someone a zerbert (or raspberry – you know, where you put your mouth against their arm or belly and blow, and it makes a funny sound) and see how they react. Because let’s be honest: if someone can’t handle a zerbert, they’re not cut out for a long-term relationship, at least not one with Rebecca or me.

I haven’t decided at what point I will perform the test, though I suppose I’ll know when the situation arises. It doesn’t seem like first date material; however, I can’t remember the last time I had a typical first date, so maybe it could be. I could ask the basic questions – job (He should have one, and possibly like it.), last book he read (It needs to be something more recent than The Very Hungry Caterpillar, unless he spends a lot of time around two-year-olds.), favorite place he’s traveled (If he doesn’t travel, he gets the boot.), how often he calls his mom (Three times a day is not an acceptable answer.) – and follow them up with a zerbert.

…okay, maybe I should come up with an alternate plan.

I think the most practical application for me will be in bed. Now, naturally, I don’t want to have sex with someone before performing the zerbert test. If they can’t handle a zerbert, why would I want to go all the way with them? I’m thinking that perhaps the first time we find ourselves moving in that direction, I’ll lift up my date’s shirt and attack his belly. If he laughs, we can get it on. If he stares at me like I have three heads, I’ll have to hightail it out of that situation. Because if he thinks that’s weird, he probably won’t be able to cope with my penchant for having Spice Girls dance parties while I cook.

You see what I mean? It’s the perfect test.

This whole conversation started because over the course of my travels, I slept with someone new. Now, I tend to keep this sort of thing to myself – or at least a limited group of close friends, because let’s be honest, we all love talking about sex. I wanted to talk about this hookup in particular because, over the course of analyzing every detail, I realized something: I hadn’t enjoyed myself in bed that much since…2005? 2006?

Over years of worrying whether I look good enough naked, or being pushed away by my ex, or hooking up with inappropriate men, I forgot how much fun sex could be. I forgot what it was like to spend the day in bed wrapped up in each other. I forgot the electricity that can happen when a guy runs his fingers up my arms with fingertips barely grazing my skin. I forgot how good it can feel to get into a tickle war and shriek and laugh. I forgot that we can be silly in bed and that it doesn’t have to be so serious.

I think this guy would have passed the zerbert test.

Now, I do see one flaw with this new plan: someone could pass and still not be a good long-term partner for me. I’ll still have to ask those first (and second and third) date questions, think about whether he’d be a good father to our potential future children, know that he doesn’t hate my tattoos, and so on.

Chemistry and silliness – and the ability to appreciate the unexpected – are good steps in the right direction, though.

*Name has been changed!

[photo credit: me!]

I Left My Heart in Prague

posted 11th December 2011    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, Travel, Travel/Adventure

Nine years ago, I stepped off a train in Prague and proceeded to get scammed by a taxi driver. He charged me over three times what I should have paid – and I knew it – but there was nothing I could do at the time. I was a 21-year-old girl who didn’t speak a word of Czech, and I was trying to bargain with burly men who knew that. The alternative, though, was attempting to maneuver my large, unwieldy suitcase on an unfamiliar tram system, though, and that didn’t feel like much of an option.

I was already regretting my decision to spend four months living in this city. When I chose to go there, I didn’t really know anything about the city or the country. I only knew that it was in Eastern Europe, close to my family’s homeland of Poland. (And when I arrived, I found out that it was actually in Central Europe, so I hadn’t really known anything.) Colleagues from my internship who had been to Prague told me that it was incredibly beautiful, and that I would love my time there.

I arrived in Central Europe two weeks after devastating floods. I flew into Berlin with my ex-boyfriend, who was studying there for the semester, and then I took the train to Prague. After hours of riding in silence, the man sitting next to me told me that we were nearly there. I looked out the window and I wanted to cry. It was ugly. All I saw were tall, concrete apartment buildings – panelaks, built when the former Czechoslovakia was under Soviet rule – and I couldn’t believe it. Where was the beautiful architecture? Where were the charming cobblestone streets? What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

I don’t remember the drive through the city to my dormitory, which was up on top of the hill past the castle. Later, I would notice all of the incredible details on the buildings, the orange tile rooftops, the stunning towers and churches, and the cobblestone streets – things that would become fixtures of my daily commute to my university. Later, I would see all of the damage caused by the floods: the crumbled walls of buildings near the Vltava River, the piles of garbage by metro stations, the closed streets and trams running irregular routes. That afternoon, though, I didn’t process any of that. I arrived at Kolej Komenského, my home for the next four months, and wondered what I was going to do.

That night, I met all of my fellow students as we went to dinner a few blocks away at a Czech pub. I ate smažený sýr (fried cheese) and palačinky (Czech pancakes, which are like crepes) while having introductory conversations with the people I’d grow to know well over the next four months. When things started winding down, I left the restaurant with my roommate and two of our classmates. We walked to the top of the hill – a route we would grow to know well over the coming months – and when we got to the top, something caught our attention.

There was chanting. After a minute, we realized that it was coming from the monastery. It was entrancing. We walked around the building, trying to see where it was coming from, but we couldn’t see anyone inside. While we stood there, listening, I turned around and looked down the hill.

Prague was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.

As I gazed over the glowing city – especially the domes and spires of churches lit up at night – I was certain that by the end of the semester, I’d take that view for granted. I figured that once things became routine, the city wouldn’t feel so incredible anymore. That never happened. Prague’s beauty and magic stayed with me that semester, and my creativity soared during that time. Something about being there feels electric to me, inspiring and powerful. If you can fall in love with a city, I did so with Prague that night near the monastery.

* * * * * * * * * *

Three weeks ago, I stepped off a plane at Ruzyně airport in Prague, and I bought a transit pass. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and hopped on a bus to the metro. I listened to the announcements in Czech, catching a few words and phrases that I remembered. When I exited the metro, I easily navigated familiar streets and headed to a favorite cafe to meet some friends.

This was my fourth visit back, and it still – always – feels like home. Each time I’ve visited, I’ve returned with my roommate from that semester abroad, and we have a list of old favorites that we try to be sure to see. This time, we spent a day walking through Petřín Park, a place where I spent many hours wandering, reading, and writing nine years ago. As we exited the park near the top of the hill, we passed that same monastery that gave us pause our first night there. Dusk was settling over the city, and looking out over the church tops and orange tile roofs, I fell in love all over again. As my friends and I walked down the hill toward the restaurant where I spent my first night in Prague nine years ago, I knew that the magic of the city will stay with me.

Though this last visit was entirely too brief, I’m not worried; I know that I’ll keep going back. We may have started off on the wrong foot, but Prague and I, we’re connected.

Have you ever fallen in love with a city, or visited a place that took your breath away?

[photo credit: me!]

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