My cognitive dissonance vs DJ Thirsty Monk (remix)

or: My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

I am continuing to enjoy my blogging efforts, even though it is, I fear, becoming weirder as it sits in an isolated cold-bath of cyberspace. I guess I've made a best-efforts approach to imposing some reductive structure to this, but I seem to constantly thwart it. It seems that the same unconscious cognitive dissonance that thwarts my feeble efforts at making/sticking to a budget is undermining my attempts to establish blog boundaries.

Ok, well more on that point, since it has been on my mind a lot. In fact, while doing my meditation yesterday (and yes I have taken it up, and yes it was at first in a funny 70's/EST/Me Generation /wife-swapping/pasta maker/Adidas tracksuit sorta way), I found it occupying my thoughts. And I've come to the conclusion that saying "my blog is ___" is a doomed exercise, because I don't have the restraint nor frankly the inclination to adhere to a cut-out format. So feeding off of that, I kept coming back to my initial thought of the blog as proof-positive of the Heisenberg Uncertainty principle. Simply put, if anything in word-whoring writing style can be simple or economical, my blog is influenced by my life which involves the readers of this blog. I can write something in the blog that will spark a conversation/exchange with a friend who reads this blog; that interaction may lead to actions that impact the narrative thrust of the blog, which in turn will become part of the big-M Me that is writing the blog...hence a circle that is bound to repeat ad infinitum.

Case in point, I have shared the link to this blog with MAB with whom I spent the majority of this weekend. If I write about our date/weekend, he may read it; and it is the thought thereof that causes me to self-censure. Further, writing about someone that I am dating would by necessity be a project with a short shelf-life; if things became serious with that person, I would not want to continue to share personal matters. Hmm, I think this is coming across terribly, but hopeful the germ of the idea is apparent.

Also, along the lines of having M read this, I have been writing this blog as something for myself, and for those of my friends that care to read it. I have not been editing it for someone I am/will/might/can date to read. Clearly, in a social interaction, I try to put my best foot forward in terms of my friendliness, manners, polite conversation, and so forth. This blog sets that entire worldview aside, because the audience of my friends does not need that buffer. So you might ask why I thought I should share the blog link with someone I am interested in, romantically. Basically, the blog is a very good way to understand who I am, how I think, and how I approach life and living. From that perspective, it is a great way to learn more about me.

Ok, so to bring this painfully-executed thought to a conclusion, I am going to continue to write about dates and so forth, but with the understanding that I may choose to curtail that at whim if things become serious with a guy, to the point that writing about dates becomes inappropriate.

So yes, I spent the weekend with M. He and I chatted a bit on g.com initially; I IM'd had at first because I was so taken with his profile and the genuineness that I felt from reading it. Basically, to borrow a phrase from investment banking, I felt that he "got the game." In i-banking, this is used to refer to someone who understands the mechanics of a particular type of security, including the nuances of its construction, and what impacts its value in the marketplace. In g.com parlance, it means, to me, someone who is bright, who understands the inherent failings of the meeting-someone-online trope, who is funny & clever, who brings a certain ironic detachment to the whole thing, and lastly who is not simply looking for sex in the immediacy that online chatting can clearly provide. On top of that, he is also quite attractive. That said, we went to a house party in Wicker Park, which was tremendous for its boho earnestness, and I enjoyed meeting some of his friends and coworkers. So what began as a date on Friday night turned into one of those wonderful and rare dates that goes on all weekend long, when you can't bear to separate yourself from the other person, because you are having too great a time in getting to know them, and where you don't want to challenge the as-yet fragile rapport that is being built. I just found myself really taken by his cute smile and very sunny personality...well and a few other things that discretion will preclude me mentioning ;)

So I've made a consultation with my plastic surgeon for Thursday afternoon; I am going to decide once and for all, yea or nay, to go ahead with getting my cheeks done. I am also mildly interested in preventative botox, but that's not foremost on my cosmetic surgery to-do list. At this point, the only factor holding me back is the absolute horror with which my beloved Mother would greet the news. I realize that is a weak reason to hold-off, but it is still, presently, a valid one. And no, I’m not playing my mother as rhetorical straw man (straw-woman?)

Lastly, shipping stuff overseas is a huge pain. What’s the deal with that anyway? I sent my girl Rachel a pretty-pink iPod, because she is a classy broad who needs an appropriately-colored iPod; I’ve become a huge buyer of the iPod, now that I managed to figure out my music/photo iPod, and I no longer suffer from iPod-envy on the el in the mornings. But I had to fill out like 3 forms at Fedex in order to send the damn things to her, including estimating the VAT or some crap. I thought we were living in the free market, not frickin communist bloody China here…since when should I be hassled by The Man when trying to send a gift to a friend? Did we lose a war or something? Well, aside from the war in the world court of public opinion (replete with the army of burning Uncle Sam effigies.) Also, is it weird that I dream of someday achieving a level of notoriety/infamy that would cause me to be burned in effigy? Hmmm.

Fair enough, I have indulged in this sufficiently for now.

-PBS

Post Script: M called while I was writing this to wish me a happy Monday; what a cutie