Last Sunday while waiting for my friend Daniel to finish work and take me out for a rather belated birthday dinner at Houston’s (standard fare, consistent food, fair prices), I popped into a bookstore even though I tried to fight it.

I’d done several laps around the Ferry Building, eyeing the bookstore at each passing. “No more. You have too many unread bookstore at home. You are not to go in.” One step, two step, inside store, glance up and down aisles, just looking, touching books, opening books, reading books. Purchase book.

I’m reading it when Daniel makes his way over to my car. I wave, toss the book in the back seat, and move toward him for a hug as he enters my car. I hadn’t seen him since the day I picked him and Chavonta up from the airport back from their honeymoon. Hug and release. He looks in the back seat, picks the book up, and quizzes, “Against Love? What’s this?”

In the twenty minutes since I’d purchased the book, I had become engrossed. I felt like I was back in school, fascinated by an academic critic and her research. The book was engaging, thought-provoking, witty. I was hooked. I’m only a quarter into it (by the way, did I mention I am super stressed out at work?), but the author Laura Kipnis, a Professor at Northwestern, is making me think and question and analyze.

Last night, I went out for drinks with my friend Joy and some of her guy friends. I mentioned the book and actually happened to have it in my purse (I always have to have reading material in my purse just in case). Shocked, Joy exclaimed, “What? I leave you for a few days, and you pick up stuff like this? What are you thinking? This is not good. Throw it away! Look at the author, she doesn’t look like a happy woman.”

Her guy friends agreed. But I pressed on…

What I’ve gathered so far from reading is that people agonize over relationships–monogamous, committed relationships. That we agonize over how we’re supposed to behave and commit to one another. What is the real definition of a good marriage, of a good relationship? That there’s no cheating? No lusting? And if we do cheat and lust, is that a breach of commitment? The basic premise is…if we are happy in our relationships, then we shouldn’t have to work at them. We would just be happy and at peace. We wouldn’t even consider what our other options are, flirting with the waitress, contemplating an affair. If you’re happy in a relationship, you don’t have to work at it. Just like if you’re happy with what you do for a living, it’s not work.

A passage from the book: “Here we come to the weak link in the security-state model of long-term coupledom: desire. It’s ineradicable. It’s roving and inchoate, we’re inherently desiring creatures, and sometimes desire just won’t take no for an answer, particularly when some beguiling and potentially available love-object hoves into your sight lines, making you feel what you’d forgotten how to feel, which is alive, even though you’re supposed to be channeling all such affective capacities into the “appropriate” venues, and everything (Social Stability! The National Fabric! Being a Good Person!) hingest on making sure that you do.”

Well, my happy hour friends were up-in-arms over such nonsense. But I think it’s fascinating to have an opinion that is so contrary to the rules of relationships. No cheating, no adultery. Shut up or ship out. They told me to move to Utah, but in the end, we agreed that it’s a great topic for debate and discussion. It makes you think…not just with your heart, but your head, too. Out of the box. Try it.

I’ve missed you, Chicago!

In Chicago for recruiting, my co-worker Greg and I decided on deep dish pizza for dinner before flying out. It wasn’t a consentual decision. He had never had deep dish pizza before so I relented. Giordano’s, the popular Chicago chain, was a few blocks from the hotel.

We ordered one small deep dish pepperoni and cheese, and another small thin crust Hawaiian (pineapple and ham). While waiting (it took a good hour for the pizzas to arrive), we became engrossed in the hit TV show ‘Dancing with the Stars’ as did everyone else. Operations practically came to a standstill as the employees parked themselves in front of the television and hooted along with the customers. The customer sitting at the next table over, an older business man in a suit and tie, surprised us by dishing out his own commentary–clearly an avid fan of a show I thought only women watched. People, this is why I don’t own a TV. I would be addicted!

My last night in Minneapolis, I was as happy as a gay guy at a Celine Dion concert while watching the marathon of ‘Project Runway’ in my hotel room. I didn’t even leave to get dinner, I was literally in bliss watching the show. I had room service deliver two pan-sized homemade chocolate chip cookies and nonfat milk.

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During the flight home from Minneapolis, the loquacious man seated next to me was dying to converse with someone. I sat by the window. He was in the middle. A business woman had the aisle seat. Before I sat down, I could tell the business woman looked irritated. I suspect he had talked her ear off and she didn’t want to encourage him any further. Every time he asked her a question, she nodded or shook her head, then promptly went back to reading her book, appropriately titled, “Finding Inner Peace.” I laughed when I saw that. When it was obvious that the cabin doors were going to close, she looked up and down the aisles, then told the guy, “I see a few vacant aisle seats if you want to move.” He didn’t.

After getting settled in my seat, he turned his attention on me. “So do you live in Minneapolis? Were you here for work? Do you live in San Francisco? What do you do?” He was lucky I was in an ok mood because I can’t stand talkative people. Why don’t they just shut up! Travelling is stressful as it is. I don’t need some stranger blabbering in my ear.

I answered his questions. He told me he was from Connecticut, going to San Francisco for the first time for a long weekend vacation. He didn’t have any set plans. Since I lived in the city, would I give him a few recommendations. I was happy to do it. I took out an 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper and filled it out front and back. Favorite restaurants, museums, bars, neighborhoods. I detailed the best times to go, streets and cross-streets, what not to miss. I had written down my favorite cheap eats, my favorite spots for sushi, mexican, thai… The most important part of vacation is the food!

I was pretty impressed with what I had put together. He was, too. He looked it over, making sure he could decipher my scribbles. Then he handed it back to me and asked, “Ummm, would you mind writing down your favorite pizza joint? I’m really into pizza.”

But of course, an East Coast construction worker isn’t going to care that we have some of the best sushi or tacos in the world!

Welcome to My Home

Kitchen (Lean Cuisine Storage)

Living Room / Library / Dining Room

Bedroom / Wine Bar

I hardly ever watch movies. I don’t have the time. The reviews have to be stellar to get me to the theater. The last movie I watched was ‘The Devil Wears Prada.’ I really enjoyed it, but probably would not have seen it, had it not been an organized movie night with some girlfriends. The movie before that? ‘Brokeback Mountain’ which I absolutely loved. Like I said, I don’t watch movies often.

I don’t know where I first heard about ‘The Last Kiss,’ but I ended up watching the trailer online and writing in my To Do List that I had to watch it. It centers around a 29-year-old guy going through a mid-life crisis who feels like his life has been so planned out. His girlfriend of three years is pregnant, she wants to get married, buy a house, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed and terrified. The trailer and his story resonated with me so fervently that I made a point to watch it with a friend this weekend–on a Saturday night.

I left the theater with dampened spirits. The movie was rather depressing.

My writing clearly depicts my angst in choosing between a committed relationship and staying single. This movie screams: STAY SINGLE! DON’T GET MARRIED! DON’T BE STUPID ENOUGH TO GET PREGNANT WHEN YOU’RE NOT MARRIED! I actually left the theater thinking, “Wow, I guess I do have it good. My life is great compared to these people.”

I was thinking about the movie today again and realized that I felt a connection not just to the main character, but to many of the other ones as well.

Michael, main character, mid-life crisis: I connect with Michael because I do feel like my whole life has been planned out. I’ve done everything I was supposed to do. Go to grad school, buy a house. And now I’m supposed to settle down, but I’m not sure if I want to. If I do, does that mean I’ll give up all the excitement of being young and spontaneous? He’s not able to go on a trip to South America with his buddies. If I settle down, I won’t be able to do the travel that I do now.

Jenna, Michael’s girlfriend, pregnant: Jenna kinda goes crazy in the movie. She finds out her boyfriend of three years lied and cheated on her. Yeah, I went ballistic too when I found out my boyfriend cheated on me and I didn’t have the hormonal swings of a pregnant woman.

Anna, Jenna’s mother, trying to salvage her marriage: Unhappy, Anna wants love and affection. “Flesh and blood,” she calls it. Which is what I wanted with Dave. I just wanted him to look at me with desire, to make me feel wanted. Anna has an affair. I found the attention I needed at Burning Man.

Kim, Michael’s young fling: You can’t help but feel sorry for this college musician. She falls for Michael, desperately tries to hold on to him, and is shocked when she finds out he’s going to be a father. Kim resonated with me the most. I saw myself in her during her last dialogue with Michael when he tells her he’s an asshole and it’s not about her. I’m paraphrasing, but she says something like, “Why does this always happen? There must be something wrong with me if guys keep leaving me. It must be about me.”

I thought back to two years ago when I was painfully in love with someone. I was 29, he was 38–the exact same age difference as Michael and Kim in the movie. It must have been love–the way he looked at me. But it was nothing but physical attraction and amusement and maybe I made him feel young again. I’m sure I did. But his heart was elsewhere. It took me a long time to recover from that heartache.

Kenny, the bartender: I want to be Kenny. Independent, gets what he wants, happy doing things others deem boring (fishing at the local river), loves his life. Ironic that he’s got the name of the South Park character who dies in every episode. Everyone else seems to be dying a slow, painful death in this movie except for him. Long live Kenny.

Celebrating My 31st Birthday

I’m stressed out. I’m on my way home (Frontier Airlines). I feel panicky. The sweep conversions are happening in two weeks. I spent the past two days in Denver, finalizing the details with my manager and our conversion project manager. I’ve got so much to do, it’s overwhelming. I haven’t even checked my voicemail. There are tons of messages. I’ve been focused on more important things, plus I’m too scared to check.

The golf tournament is on Thursday. I still have to write the vendor bios, gather the manager bios, follow-up with our speakers, and sort logistics out with the golf course’s tournament director. I’ll spend tomorrow stuffing, sorting, phone calling…on top of my conversion work. Did I mention that I’m freaking out?

Monday I go to Chicago. MBA recruiting at the GSB. I was going to take Wednesday off. I haven’t been back since I graduated the summer of 2004. I miss my school, I miss Chicago! But no. I fly directly to Minneapolis after the presentation. More conversion work with my manager before the conversions begin.

Then the conversions…commuting to Fremont. Stress, fatigue, anxiety. I need a good glass of wine.

By the way, this is my first time traveling since the liquid bomb threat. I checked my bag on the way to Denver because of my contact lens solution. Didn’t feel like checking my bag going back home to SF. I need to deplane, go to my car, and drive straight to the office PRONTO. I asked about my contact lens bottle and because it’s bigger than 4 ounces, they made me toss it. That’s fine. I was expecting that. Here’s the deal. I honestly think that if I didn’t mention it, they wouldn’t have detected it. I had a tube of toothpaste that made it through. I wanted to see if they would catch that. They didn’t. I don’t think they would’ve caught the lens solution either. Anyhow…remember 4 ounces. That’s the cutoff.

Addendum: lots of turbulence throughout the flight. I’m a scaredy-cat when it comes to flying.

My throat is hurting. I’m feeling feverish. Uh-oh.