It happens all the time, all over the globe, sometimes in the most extraordinary of circumstances; I expect it is going on right now…somewhere…people are falling in love. But I’m not interested in that love stuff (well I am, but only with the right woman), or all the mushy stuff that comes later, all the kissing, and exchange of fluids, the moaning and all the great fun two people can have together, I’m interested in what happened earlier, before someone’s paramour was deemed Blog worthy, I’m interested in how they met?

My parents met in of all places a bowling alley...it was the 60's, the whole era of hanging out, acting cool, and trying to be more grown up than you really were. (Not too different to today) My Dad was a fresh of the boat New Australian, Ireland was a distant memory and he had managed to avoid the draft for Vietnam thanks to a Hurling accident at school that had left him with glasses as thick as the bottom of coke bottles. He was 20.

Mum was 16, out with friends for the night with a 10 o'clock curfew, and an over protective Italian father.

The line for a lane was long.

My father's mates in the typical bravado that is the courage of young men grouped near girls the world over, dared my father to go and talk to my mother...he didn't...they bet him...he did. (Money is such a great male motivator ~grin~)

The bet, very bold for the time: Go and pull her pigtail.

So my father bolstered with the promise of some money, walked up to my mum, and losing all confidence with the said pigtail within arms reach stammered, stuttered, and in the end just asked her permission to pull the object of the bet, and thus win some money. My mother in, what she claims was a moment of brassiness, but after years of knowing her believe is her true self,

...smiled at my dad and said "Only if you pay for my games tonight"

And the rest...my two brothers, I, and 42 years of marriage is as they say, history.

So in this hyper-rush, more is good, "I am the center of the universe world", how, or maybe a better question is where, do people actually meet people of worth, substance and deserving of our time, where can you meet people whom you would wish to date? Where have you met people?

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Relationships, Meeting People

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 23 comment(s)

If they ever tell my story let them say that I walked with giants.
- Odysseus

I recall the sun, reflected off the stucco buildings, the long walk from the city winding around the plateau slowly gaining altitude and less shaded cover...I remember marble stairs worn by the tread of feet, sandal's, boots and now the teva's of a multitude of backpackers like myself...I remember looking down at my feet, and then up as the stairs rose between columns shrouded by the archaeologists frames and I could not help but marvel at the names remembered by history who had before me climbed these steps: Aristotle, Plato, Alexander, Caesar, all men of learning and some of war, had trod with deliberate measure under the same sun to look upon a marvel.

The temple of Athena is an edifice that bankrupted a city state, the foolish folly of men who believed they could rule forever, it is know a beacon of the old, visible from all over Athens, it casts it's shadow across a city that forever is so defined by the ancients who trod it's streets and who's names are now the stuff of textbooks.

To walk, following so much history, to tread in such shadows, to reach out and touch the icons that peppered ones schooling...can only be described as humbling...

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Photos, Greece, Temple of Athena

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 10 comment(s)

I think there was a time in my life, a time not so long ago if measured in years, and yet seemingly too far when measured in experiences and perspective when I truly looked at it all as one great adventure. It was a journey to be savoured and the destination was clearly secondary to the getting there...and somewhere along my journey this changed, I wanted more, or more correctly I wanted the something that comes with being with someone...I wanted the goal, I wanted the the destination and I lost sight of having fun on the journey, I lost sight of the "live in the now" mantra that makes each day more worthwhile, makes each dawn the reason for living right now...I stopped milking the marrow out of each moment be it significant or insignificant...

I simply let moments slip through my fingers like sand.

Even recently I have made decisions not based on a sense of journey but the possibility of outcome...and although this is one way to live...I can't really say that it sits well with me, or is the one that I am most comfortable in calling my own...it seems to me that as a way to live one's life: eye's cast towards the horizon is the way that makes it too easy to trip over the present moments and unfortunately put them also behind...

I think this idea has most manifested itself in my life with the concept of dating, I have sought the prize and not cherished the getting there, I have discounted, perhaps too quickly, those who would offer "friendship", since it did not tally with my goals. Rather I know now I should have experienced the offerings I am graced with, I should have enjoyed the moments of human interaction and let tomorrow take care of itself.

...and he said someday I hope you get the chance
to live like you were dying.
- Tim McGraw

And while Indiana is to the best of his knowledge not actually dying I still like the idea of living life a little more fully, to take each moment as the special thing it is, to not abandon my goals completely...but to realise that such moments count in numbers unknown and therefore deserved to be cherished more than they are when you still believe you have your whole life ahead of you.

There is a great line/idea in which the protaganist suggests that maybe it is time to stop dreaming of the people we wish we were and instead just start being them...and although I don't recall who or where it was said and am too lazy to Google it to my staisfaction...I do think it resonates in that there is a time for all things, to mourn, to reflect, to stay silent, to shout, to laugh, to cry, to sit still and of course there is a time to act...

...maybe it's time for me to cast the eyes not so horizon bound and instead look a little closer to now.

So what I am going to do...well for one thing, tonight I am having dinner with a very sexy Brazilian for no other reason than I enjoyed dancing with her, she liked me enough to give me her phone number, and she has the sexiest tattoo. ~grin~

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Wisdom, Journey or Destination

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 17 comment(s)

So I was a bit dubious when the boat didn't leave the Marina until after 10. But this is an island and I am aware that the smaller the island the less focused is the concept called time...But it has been a while since I got wet so I was ready to overlook the delay even for the promised 4m viz, I was also completely at ease when there were none of the usual liability forms and nobody actually asked me if I was certified, I just wanted to get wet. (I am such a dive whore ~grin~)

So when a colleague called me Saturday afternoon and asked if my plans for Sunday could be cancelled, I suddenly found myself planning to dive with none of my own gear in service...which meant I would be renting gear, never the best plan, and the forcast said rain...so yes, the viz sucked, yes the mask leaked, yes the first stage did not seal to the tank properly*, but I was back in the water, and sometimes you just need to indulge your passions to realise what you have missed. So indulge I did.

The gentle pull of the current sending me skimming over the rocky surface, gentle silt covering all and the low vizibility bringing sudden flashes of colour as tropical damsels and angels dart for cover, before I am moved on...Only fighting against the current when the anemone with it's clownfish catches my eye and I stop, my gentle kicks matching the current as I laugh at the protective darting of the female as she lounges from the tentecled protection to ward me off, while deep within that same protection the tiny form of a baby moves in the gentle sway and stays safe. Turning the current sends me flying on, shadowy shapes appear as ghosts, ethereal shapes take form and a pivot or a roll avoids the delicate corals as the rush of sights, missed for so long bring with them memories of dives past.

But I realised something about my underwater self, while my partner had her interest focused on the natural, the gentle sway of polyps and soft corals, mine was constantly searching for the straight lines that had no place in this setting and would offer the tell tale sign of the passage and tread of man. My focus was searching for the indelible mark of man, his changes, his passing, even the refuse of such a passage...a broken plate, a coral encrusted bottle, even scattered house bricks showed that while I may indeed be the first to skim over that piece of the planet at such a close elevation others have moved and lived briefly above.

So while I could say that I am a dive-whore...maybe I just like going down on old wrecks ~grin~

* Indy really should have aborted the dive with such horrendous hire gear, but since the max depth ended up being 4m he decided to violate every rule that his 800 + dives underwater had taught him and dive anyway...his advice to you: Don't be as stupid as him.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Diving, Going Down

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 12 comment(s)

I love them.

There I said it, hopefully now my stance has been made I can move on…I am not a breast man per se (I tend to first look at legs and bum), but still, I do love a woman's breasts…size is not a factor, I have seen and touched everything from A to F and real to shares in Dow Corning, and no the F's were real…I have known women who have had reductions, just as I know at least one woman who despite having the most perfect set of boobs I have ever seen is determined to get them enhanced, for reasons I cannot fathom.

But the biggest thing I ever learnt about them didn't happen until I was 30 ~grin~ and it had nothing to do with tracing, licking, sucking or even gently biting on nipples, nor using your fingers to trace the line along her lower curve, starting at the sides and dancing along the lower swell and tracing up her sternum, all while kissing her or her breasts…it had nothing to do with while going down reaching up…or with her on top, bending just so and teasing while she moves…

…it all has to do with sensation…

I love a women with sensitive breasts, size is irrelevant unless you desire cleavage, but I love sensitive breasts…I love that a woman responds to your touch, your stroke and your kisses, and I never realized it until I met a woman for whom breast stimulation ranked as less pleasurable then stroking her lower back…I really shouldn't say "met her" since I did date her for two years…

…and I admit this threw me. Two of the fun play areas that I had relied upon during foreplay were denied…and in truth it made sex harder…my game was off, so I had to re-learn to play, but it also opened up a whole smorgasbord of areas to touch, lick, stroke and kiss…Apparently a study conducted in the early nineties on the UCLA campus reported that 20% of women got no or little pleasure from breast stimulation.

So it was slightly strange when after so long of breast-less sex, I found myself single and while counting my luck she whispered in a husky voice "lick my nipples"…

Truthfully I felt a little scared…

I had forgotten about the breasts, well obviously I had not forgotten about them I mean they are a pretty obviously there, and they are beautiful, and cleavage inducing bras and clothing are the norm at the moment as a fashion trend, so I really couldn't forget about them, but I admit it I felt momentary panic…boobs!...ohh wow, you mean I can play with them…I used to know what to do…and like a kid in a candy shop I spent some time getting re-acquainted with them…fortunately one lovely set of very sensitive D's and a boob induced orgasm later I felt like I had re-discovered two lost friends.

But still I was and am left with that niggling 20% scenario…which means at least 1 women I have known lied to me…or I have been extremely lucky…and I wouldn't dare put money on that bet.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Sex, Breasts

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 23 comment(s)

Talking to a friend recently, she claimed that she’d had her “recovery shag, and was ready to cruise along and fall in love again”, I didn’t really have any need to know about her sex-life, and probably would rather have not known about her method of “starting over” but it did get me thinking about relationship recovery.

It is generally accepted, though I concur that all situations are unique, that with the failing of a relationship, the heart and self need a certain time to recover, rebalance and for a little bit be totally selfish. This internal time is needed to heal wounds and re-establish what it is we seek, as we come to grips with many of the parting shots that are often fired by your now X as the dying relationship is finally killed. And the time is different for everyone.

But it’s in those dying months that I think most of the damage is done, the damage from which the most recovery is needed. It is at this time that the quality, quantity and emotional value of sex also wanes…and in those dying months the act of sex often becomes one of selfish gratification rather than genuine feelings and sharing…so while we all acknowledge that you need time to recover from a failed relationship, do you also need time to recover from the failed sex? Or for that matter "bad" sex? (And is there really such a thing?)

It has been said that nothing gets you over the last relationship like the next “fuck”, is this really true? Or is it the excuse used to justify self gratification and the healing of ego? (Which if we are honest is what recovery sex is all about?) Recovery sex is all about pride and ego. And when the relationship fails, you have to learn to believe in yourself again, to believe you have value, to salve your pride and bruised ego and self-teach that you can actually pleasure another and receive pleasure from the same.

Now I whole-heartedly believe you can't have a recovery shag with somebody you have feelings for, that both defeats the purpose of the selfish act and further complicates the issue since it invariably creates the horrible dating situation of the "rebound partner". But is having sex with another the ultimate “marker” that denotes recovery from a failed relationship?

And if this is so what about those people who have affairs? Does the affair itself help them recover or rather further hinder the process?

NOTE: This is a completely hypothetical and postulating post.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Relationship, Recovery Sex

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 8 comment(s)

Punctuating my summer, moments at Wrigley were without a doubt the highlights

The dive bar in the neighborhood where the barman and I had some of my most interesting philosophical discussions of the summer while I waited for the game to begin with a beer or two before I moved onto...

The scalpers on Clark, trying to milk a little more cash from the eager, and the savvy waiting until the bottom of the 1st, top of the second to play the game...all it takes is a Hamilton. ~grin~

The Chicago Trixie's, if I could imagine a beer garden sprinkled with so many gorgeous women eagerly sunning themselves, Wrigley Field would far outstrip even my most vivid imagination.

And on that note, having the RBI rule explained to me for the 5th time of the summer by a cute girl, much to the annoyance of her boyfriend...but I swear I wasn't using the accent for anything other than being polite ~grin~

Realising that the beer effect at Wrigley is double that at a bar...which is to say 2-3 Old Styles while in the field boxes will generally get you far drunker than the same number of beers followed by whiskey shots at any of the neighborhoods bars.

The overpriced meat substitute products that pass for a hotdog these days...gone are the Hebrew Nationals from Wrigley and in their place is something that when smothered in Mustard and Ketchup is vaguely filling, will repeat on you later, but for the present allows you have another beer.

Waiting all summer for the Cubs to win...it took until my second last game. Which is not really true, in one game the Cubs were down 5-1 top of the eighth, and seriously who would believe they could come back, so I ducked out to get a jump on the crowds and get my favourite corner of the bar at the same dive I was at prior to the game...only to exit the ground, as the Cubs rallied. And the cheers of the fans signaled a Cubs victory. Fuck!

Night Games, my first...and while many who live in the area despise them, I had a great time, and have to wonder why you would by within a mile of the Park and then complain about the noise. It was hot, the cubs lost, I was on the upper deck way out on the third baseline and the thing I remember most is the 10 year old boy with the sign just in front of me, his lack of hair a sure sign of recent chemo, his placard reading "I beat Cancer surely the Cubs can beat the Astros"...sadly they didn't.

Maddox's last game as a Cub...he takes a sacrifice on a bunt and leaves Wrigley to a standing ovation, the Cubs go on to win the game...and I ended up with great photo's of both his last time on the mound and at bat for the Home team at Wrigley.

...and thus my summer in Chicago ended.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Photos, Chicago, Wrigley Field, The Cubs

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 9 comment(s)

There is something about the closeness of the work place, the proximity of the opposite sex, the easy banter, the knowing looks and the friendly smiles that leads to the wondering that is: "what-if" and "I wonder", the not so subtle interplay, that self delusion, that makes us believe is private, but rather that so public flirtation that is the office romance...or rather: shitting in one's own nest.

The loneliness of a new place, coupled with growing feelings of isolation and a sense of being apart adds to the likelihood that someone with whom you spend time will turn not only your head but especially your eye. Sadly this office infatuation too oft ends in sadness...the broken dream of hope and the ruination of belief in love that is the plague of many a reluctant single. The hope of an office affair, the titillation of someone with whom you already share much is both illicit, exciting and in many companies...forbidden.

I would like to say that I am a Jedi Master, immune to the allure of the fairer sex, above and beyond the seduction of the succubi, but sadly, I am not, and I have indulged a few times in the game that is: shitting in your own nest.

And it is shitting.

For the odds are against you, it will usually fail, and no matter what you do, what you have done, you will be the bad guy, and all other young doves in the nest will be forever off limits...you will be as the leper. Forever will the women you work with recall the affair, the failure and wonder what is wrong with you...sure it sometimes works out...but who are you kidding your no more special than the next guy, and it didn't work for him. But the heart is a fickle mistress, while you know not to play the game, you also know you will, and therein lies the danger, the peril that is crapping where you lay.

This is a peril knife edge to walk...a new place, a new face, sparkling eyes, brunnette framed visage, subtle curves, the cutest of smiles and the hint of an exoctic accent and the mind wanders down roads you thought you had bared from access. Maybe the lubrication of a few ales adds to the ease of backtracking, but still in the dark of night, and the first light of dawn you find yourself wondering...and I am still not sure if that is healthy or not?

They say you are most likely to meet your partner in college or where you work...what is scary is what if your work climate won't let you take advantage of that meeting? What if the fear of the past holds your heart in check and stops the setting free of ones shackles and the soaring that is love. Obviously I have made a mess of past work environments, and though I hold the plan to avoid such a mistake here, what if it is my nature, my karma, to walk not on eggshells - softly, but rather to yomp through the flowers crushing the petals, that those better would protect.

The problem is that one day it will all go to shit...I wish it didn't, but one only has history and self experience with which to judge the future...

...and you know what they say those you do not learn from the past, they are doomed to repeat it. ~grin~

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Relationships, Dating, Office Affairs

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 25 comment(s)

I used to write under another pseudonym, I would hide and put down these imperfect thoughts, and imperfect feelings about whatever crossed my radar. Often it was women and the trouble I was having understanding them, or the frikkin moronic things I would do once I was in a relationship…which is what I did, a lot of moronic things, that for some prideful reason I thought were important, but they weren’t, they weren’t then and they aren't now. Only now I can see with the benefit of hindsight, that remarkable eye opener that shows you how it should’ve been, not how you made it. But like most often the clarity of hindsight comes only after opportunity has left, very often with another…

I am not a good listener.

Or rather I think I am, but I multi-task while listening, so while I hear everything and can respond and even give feedback, support and advice (if required) I don’t actually appear to be listening and thus don’t appear to give my attention to the talker…this I can tell you, pisses women off to no end, the thought that you are not paying them enough close attention.
I also interrupt people when they are talking…often because I have a question about what they are saying, and often to interject my own 2 cents, which is worth less than that, when I should be listening to granting my full attention to the speaker…and while I interrupt sometimes to ask a question that I would forget if the other person keeps talking for too long, it is often because I am being a man, I am seeking to solve, rather than just listen, so I interrupt to get a clearer idea of the problem, so I can craft a perfect solution.

Again, this pisses women off to no end.

My constant inability to do this consistently, probably led me to more arguments with one of my past lovers than anything save maybe our prideful natures and inability to step back, take a breath and approach our differences rationally, sanely, and with the most important fact in mind: that we loved each other, and the other persons feelings, well-being and sense of value were as important to us as to them.

Sadly it’s a lesson I know today, she taught me this. And there are times I just wish I had gotten the chance to show her.

But the catch is that’s not the whole truth, the whole truth lies somewhere a little bit more central, because somewhere in the huge mess they call a relationship, my needs were also being forgotten. So as in all circles one behavior led to another and the cycle spun out of control, what should have been little compromises, tiny bending of established behavior and thought, grew into mountains capped not with snow but resentment, and anger fueled retorts…and then silent pride. So as one behavior beget another, things grew to where friendship made more sense, the passion had drifted off somewhere, lost and possibly too far away to find…and so we became friends, and great friends we remain…but I do wonder if given the chance to show her what I know now would she be able to show me that she too had learnt…and what possibilities lay beyond…what dreams we may have challenged and fulfilled together, rather than apart.

Wondering is great it lets the mind fly free of the shackles of past mistakes and though present reality is firmly linked too them, I still wish I had gotten the chance to show her, if for no other reason than she deserved a better me.

Which brings me to the present and the insightful revelations of the past month, so what have I learnt...that I still need to work on the listening, but mostly I learnt:

I’m not perfect,
I make mistakes,
Some of them I repeat…
Some often.

But I bet you do exactly the same.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Relationship, Wisdom

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 17 comment(s)

NOTE: I am going to take a hiatus from Blogging, I need a break, I need to unplug, I need time to put some recent revelations into perspective, I need some joy and I need time to find the person I have lost…me. I am not leaving for good, I don’t have Blog Commitment Issues, I will still haunt many of your halls and the plan is to return…but since I no longer trust my ability to plan, anything is possible.

------

“That girl made me trust myself, man. I was walking around feeling satisfied. Can you imagine that?”

- Lloyd Dobler
Say Anything

You think it’s going to be ok and for the most part it is, you separate your rational side from your emotional one, you box up feelings and unanswered questions that will slowly over time become irrelevant and then be replaced by someone else, you smile in the mirror, you want to hope, but that ship has sailed, so you just plod through the motions.

We have all been there; we all know it gets better in time. How much time is varied and based on things so intangible that I would not even dare to list them…but it does get easier…we all know it.

Here is a guy secret, some of you already suspect it, some of you will deny it, some of you reading will not want to believe it, hoping that men are better…sadly we are not. After the usual denial, the wondering “what did I do?” and “Can I stop this from happening? And/Or do I really want it too?”, one of the first fears that goes through a guy’s mind when you tell him, however you do it, that he is not the one for you, is this: “Am I ever going to have sex again?” and “Is she breaking up with me because I suck in bed?”

We know that the answer to the first one is “yes” though we of course want to know “when?”

It is the second question that eats at us…we believe you were satisfied, we have been complimented in the past, but that was the past and being the goal, achievement orientated gender we are, we measure our success only in the most recent. So we doubt…we pretend we don’t, we act all confident, since we know the answer to the first question is “yes”…but until the “when” we are beset by doubts and plagued by insecurities.

For no matter how much you choose to wish it isn’t so, and that we were deeper…so much of our identity is made up by sexually satisfying you…our ability to make a woman scream in pleasure is what allows the geeks, the jocks, the nerds and any male sub-culture you can think of too compete…it doesn’t require that we be 6’10”, or weigh 240 Ibs of muscle, or even provide for the table…it simply requires that we can move in tune with you, that we can speak to not only your head but your heart, and it allows us to connect to you on a level and in a way that is without peer. It makes us the equal of any man, it makes us want to move the world for you, not the woman next to you, not the woman with the huge rack serving us our morning coffee…YOU.

And when it all ends…we are left questioning our ability, our manhood. We are left wondering if we are any good, if we are worth while, if we have meaning and value.

I’m not proud that I think this way, every guy I have ever known close enough to discuss this with is embarrassed by the same…but we all go through it, and it eats at us, like cancer. And you have no-one you can ask about it, no-one you can seek confirmation from. I know many will doubt this and will think: “you’re a freak, guys do not think like that”…trust me they do…you just don’t know any of them well enough, nor do they trust you enough for them to reveal this insecurity.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Male Revelations

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 25 comment(s)

Ever get the feeling that the world you see in the mirror is not quite as it appears on our side...I've always wondered if just beyond the reflection I can see is the world in there somehow...different. What if? Just beyond my sight, my life is something else: similar, but at the same time more promising, more fulfilling, more what I dream it to be. It doesn't matter how close I get to the mirror, or what angle I look into it, I can't help but wonder if just around the corner, just out of my sight, life couldn't be different...somehow better.

I suppose I got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning, and thus the feelings of ~blah~, but maybe it's more than that, for a while I've been feeling dissatisfied with things in my life, wondering if I should make a change. But what would make me happy? Am I simply too "high maintenance" as my friend N suggests, or is it something more, or something less? On some basic level are my needs not getting met in the life I have.

Will changing the later help me with the former?

To that end I wonder whether I should look beyond the island on which I now reside, it's a pretty great city and yet I still don't really know if it will offer me any of the things that I crave, so I do wonder if it's time to continue my "life as ex-pat" and seek somewhere...else...somewhere "away".

And yet I do wonder if I look elsewhere, should I release the "Indiana Jones" inside me and seek places a little bit more exotic and promising of adventure. I wonder whats in the mirror that I can't see? What possibilities lie in the new dawn?

Are possibilities not infinite? Are they rather of an unknown number and we bumble through life not aware that this time, this chance, this opportunity may be the last? Are possibilities like time, limited and of a length unknown?

There is a line in the movie Dune in which the young witch Aliya tells her brother "fear is the mind killer", all in all it was a really crap movie unless you'd read the book then it was slightly better, but not much. However that line has stuck with me for so long, but I wonder is fear the mind killer or does the mind manufacture fear. Is the sum total of our negative experiences when coupled with our imagination the material that gives our mind the building-blocks to create fear?

Imagination is the greatest gift of the mind, yet Audey Murphy wrote that:

"Bravery is the absence of imagination."

So does it take a mind without imagination to be brave? To have no fear. And since I love my imagination, from its negative self-deluding to it's realistic reaching for goals, can it be harnessed to conquer fear and therefore ultimately not kill the mind.

I ponder this as I sit on the edge of tomorrow, the future is the valley below me as I sit staring across it's fog shrouded vista. Alone on a ledge not completely of my own making, with only my fears and my imagination for company and solace.

And yet even as I ponder possibilities, there comes realisation and clarity, change comes easily, what is done is done, and there are in fact somethings that are truly beyond our control and therefore are not worthy of the dwelling.

...in fact change is welcomed as yesterday is left in a sunset and tomorrow begins with a new dawn.

And for the first time, in what seems selfishly forever, I have found a measure of much needed peace.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Wisdom, Tomorrow

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 5 comment(s)

Years ago, and I mean years, I was hunting for a new wallet. Now scoff if you like but this is no easy task, it had to meet my exacting standards and be of a quality high enough to satisfy me…which is to say it had to be large enough to carry all the plastic bits, enough of the “redders” and a few scraps with phone numbers I had picked up along the way if I managed to ever get lucky.

Now I have owned this particular wallet for at least 4 years, since I am going to plead ignorance to the exact purchase date, which is really immaterial to this story…anyway when I moved from the peninsula to this island I did the wallet clean out…and there buried in the back…you know that slot which is buried in the fold was a zip-lock bag, and inside…

...no it wasn't drugs...

…was the PWC (Personal Water Craft) license for a guy I have never met, a guy from a neighboring town to where I purchased the wallet, but someone I have never run across or for the life of me I can figure ever having met…

…which means…

…that’s right! Either I am a sleep walking Klepto or my wallet is…USED!

I feel so cheap. ~grin~

But I do wonder at what the look on his face would be if I mailed it to him, since his name and address are clearly printed on it, along with his mug shot (and seriously the guy looks so guilty)

If this had remained hidden in my wallet, something I would be confident in saying that I touch and utilise daily for the past years, how much is able to remain hidden between people? How many secrets are kept, ignored or just tucked into a fold and out of sight? You would think that I would know my wallet...but if I can't even know it's secrets, what hope do I, or for that matter does anyone, have of ever really knowing someone else?

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Other Stuff, Used Wallet, Secrets

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 8 comment(s)

When is a date, a date? And when is it just friends for coffee or dinner? When does it become dating? And what in fact defines a couple as dating?

Becoming a dating couple, at least in the USA, often involves a talk, in which the couple decides to be exclusive; this is obviously a very politically correct way of doing it and far from what I am used to, however it does allow for a clearing of the air, and the intentions of each party to be made clear. (Which may not be a bad thing?) Back when I lived in the country I hail from, this was not the done thing, you went on a first date, and then a second, soon a third, then more and then you were/are an item. If the second or third date never happened, then you never progressed to the stages of being a couple.

But still what does dating mean? When does it become dating?

I think the concept of parallel dating, is a misnomer since you are not actually dating anybody, rather you are going on dates with a view to explore mutual interests. At this stage I believe you are just acquaintances whom have coffee/dinner/a movie, you have some sort of physical attraction, what you are looking for is the intellectual and emotional spark, which would warrant the effort of a third or forth date.

Now many women, especially from home, seem to be willing to do this serially (as does Mia), but isn’t parallel the same thing. Instead of going on a date with a different “potential” every Friday, until you find someone who warrants a breakfast date (or a third or forth date), the parallel dater has a different date on Tues, Wed, Thurs and Friday, and does in one week what it takes the serial dater a month to do…and lets face it we all aren’t getting any younger.

But even that defense of parallel dating doesn’t address what dating is, and maybe more importantly what it is for me?

For me to consider myself out of the game, off-limits and beholden to one heart, for me to consider myself ‘dating” I need to feel it. It is something you just know…it is going to sleep thinking about them with a grin on your face, it is wanting to call/text them when something funny/sad/surprising happens in your life, it is imagining spending holidays with them, and desiring to know about them and of them, it is wanting to share, it is wanting to continue to impress, and most of all it is just knowing.

It is just a funny feeling that makes everything wrong and everything right at the same time.

So for me going on “a date”, even if it is one night after another, each one of them a first date, is not “dating”. Rather “dating” is the exclusivity that comes with seeing a single woman (whom is also single) and her alone, until such time that she decides she hates your guts and dumps you, or she doesn’t in which case you decide that she’s ok (probably mad for not dumping you) and you ask her to marry you.

But how do I know if I'm part of a dating couple?

I know when I can’t imagine being with anyone else, when a gorgeous woman walks by and I look (God’s work should be admired) not with lust and thoughts of “wonder if she is single” but rather because with so much ugliness in the world beauty should be appreciated. ~grin~ (that’s my story and I am sticking too it)

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Wisdom

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 10 comment(s)

One of the things that goes along with any amount of holiday time spent in the USA is the associated driving time, you can't avoid it, distances are too great and if you are there for any amount of appreciated time you will spend some of it in a car, and this is where "punch-buggy" (or slug-bug) comes in. This childish game was the focus of some intense drive times when I was reminded of it with an unexpected shout of "slug-bug" and the accompanying punch before my holiday had even left the airport.

What ensured was a debate about the rules of this game which was effectively ended with that effective yet frustrating debate ending statement: “My car, my rules”, closely followed by a cry of "slug-bug" and the accompanying punch.

Me being me, I of course could never let it end in such finality, so I did what any geek worth his broadband would do...I googled it, to see what others have said about this global driving game. So while I know there are many variations, this game is designed to be fun and therefore the rules reflect a simple, fun, summer attitude and are not mired in excessive restrictions open to the type of "rules lawyers" who probably would better serve mankind by being burnt at the stake.

So presented here are the rules that were agreed upon (see above statement on finality) this summer.

Punch Buggy/Slug-Bug Rules

1. This is a car game, one or both vehicles can be stationary, parked at a petrol (gas) station but the engine of your vehicle must still be running along with the "slug-bug" being claimed. If this rule is too complex for you to grasp then just play when you’re driving, and the beetle being claimed is also being driven, NOT PARKED.
   
2. Any style or age of Beetle is able to be claimed as punch worthy, this means that the plethora of new styled Beetles just means you get to hit each other more often.
3. You claim the beetle by calling out "slug-bug" (or "punch-buggy") and punching the other person. Some sets of rules say that you have to claim the color and say "no-returns" to avoid getting hit-back on the same vehicle. But let's face it if you are playing with people so low on the evolutionary scale that they can't get the concept "One Bug, One Punch" then maybe it's time you let a better level of friends in your car.
4. The driver initiates the game. For safety there are times that playing the game can get dangerous, the driver is allowed to call "game-off" until such dangers* are passed. Now some unscrupulous drivers may do this to avoid getting hit, and then restart the game with a "slug-bug"(punch), this is considered bad-form and if you find yourself in the car with such a driver I suggest you start rethinking your friends and think along the lines of trains and buses.
5. VW Dealerships are off limits...see Rule 1.
6. If you call falsely, the punch recipient may return the favour (I think they should get too do it twice). If this happens repeatedly then see Rule 2. about the class of Neanderthal that you're allowing into your car, or you're trusting to drive you somewhere safely.
7. All rule variations must be agreed upon; however the driver has final say, even if the driver is not the owner of the car.

Variations

• "Cruiser-bruiser" was also accepted as an excuse to punch each other.
• The "convertible kiss" was introduced as a means to curb my natural "horn-dog", the name say's it all. But it should be noted that when the convertible being claimed was also a beetle, you get to punch then kiss...it's like having mini make-up sex without the tantrum, the shouting and the throwing of household objects that you only have to replace later. If you can't work this variation out, hint: They are called girls and they are great fun to get close to...nope closer than that...and they are even more fun to kiss. ~grin~
• Upon seeing a Humvee all occupants in the car call out "FUCKER", since there really isn't any need for the gas guzzling behemoth outside of the Military and Forestry/Farming type occupations and arenas...there is especially NO need for them on the streets of a big city.

* Most dangers can be attributed to simple fuckers on the road, usually the free-way.
How do you know if you are a fucker on the road? Well if you are asking yourself the question...you are! But other dangers include: rain, snow, ice, or trying to navigate to or from a professional sporting event…when fuckers on the road only seem to multiply.

See also Wikipedia, Punch Buggy Rules

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Punch Buggy, Slug Bug

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 7 comment(s)