Wednesday, April 16, 2008

When One Door Opens, Another Door Closes

Don’t laugh, but a major event happened this evening. Well, a major and historic event between man and animal. Or, should I clarify further - between me and the cat. I have taken one giant step forward towards my innermost desire to relax, to be less particular, to be less fanatical, to be less … cat hair crazed! Tonight, I intentionally left my bathroom door open and went to the gym. I know this doesn’t sound like a big deal to you, but to me….this is a major milestone in my baby-step progression and whole-hearted efforts to be chill and accept Oreo for what he is...a hairy animal. I’m ok…and now you’re ok. Of course, my bedroom door is still shut behind me when I enter or when I leave. Hey, like I said…baby steps! At least now I only have to open and close one door on my way from the bathroom to the bedroom and vise versa. I realize this sounds silly to the average animal person, but the cat (even though he is the cutest thing ever) has been absolutely driving me nuts. I know now that I am the one who must change in order for my living situation to work. Oreo will never change. He’s curious…He likes me…He likes to torment me.

Before I walked out of the apartment, I stopped to watch him. He walked into my bathroom, stayed there for around 10 seconds, turned around and walked out. He proceeded slowly passed my closed bedroom door returning to the living room where he curled down, in his usual fashion, laying his big black and white body onto the black and white living room rug. With his typical non-emotional, holier than thou expression, he stared at me….saying nothing. I can’t help but wonder what that cat was thinking. This is my life. The score…Oreo 1, Tara 0.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

Wedding Bell Blues

How do I love thee, let me count…

How do I love thee, let me COUNT the ways…

I was recently asked to perform this cliché for an upcoming family wedding. I say perform because there is no way on earth I could read it seriously or somehow get through it without chuckling. Of all the people chosen to read the world’s most famous love sonnet written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I think it is strangely amusing that they chose me. Me - the one person who has never known love nor has been loved by anyone near close to what this sonnet impassions. How in the world will I pull this off? Sure, I could have a Cosmo or two prior to the ceremony. Or I could pretend I’m being graded for my college acting class. Or I could…

How do I love thee let me count the ways…I love thee to the DEPTH and BREADTH and HEIGHT my SOUL can reach….Wait a minute…wait a minute, my soul hasn’t reached for anything higher than the Go Lean cereal box on the top shelf at the Organic grocery store! Ok now Tara, be serious…I can do this.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints!---I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Everybody still awake?

Elizabeth Barrett was an invalid who stayed home confined to her room writing books and poetry. A wonderful man named Robert Browning fell in love with her after reading her writings, contacted her and the two fell in love and lived happily ever after.

Maybe this could happen to me? Maybe a wonderful man will someday read my blog, fall head over heals in love with me, contact me and tell me he loves me to the depth and breadth and height his soul can reach! Haha Tara, not in this century!

Bartender, this time make it an apple martini …Ok…here we go…I’ll try again…

How do I love thee, let me COUNT the ways….

Monday, April 07, 2008

The War at Apt. 2D

I have a problem…Oreo might possibly be trying to tell me something about myself and my relationship issues.

Oreo goes to my roommate for three things….She is (1) his food source…(2) his resource for affection and verbal admiration (received daily by that high squealing “hello my baby!” pick-up and snuggling-the-life-out-of-him routine of hers, and then finally, she is (3) his nightly sleeping partner. On the other side of the apartment, I fulfill his hard play needs. I’m his “all play” and mental torture buddy. You see, Oreo and I are at war. His ultimate goal in life is to not only get into my room, but also for me to see him sprawled out on top of my $275 bedspread! He is definitely making a game of being where he knows he’s forbidden. So, this is war, eh? Meanwhile he just stares at me while lounging on my bed. Slowly and quietly I enter my invaded sanctuary and calmly TURN ON MY VACUUM CLEANER AT HIGH NOISE LEVEL!!!! It’s as if bombs are exploding all around him. He flies out of my room like he has come within a split second of losing another life, but in the end…squeaks by uninjured. Little bastard! “I’ll get you next time, my pretty!” I think to myself. The reality…he likes it, actually he loves it! Typical male…loves the challenge, but I prevail.

Suddenly, I realize. Maybe that smart cat is trying to tell me something. Maybe Oreo is saying…. “How do you ever expect to get a man into your bedroom when you lock your door and don’t let a soul even sit on the damn bed!” Maybe I’m not only too particular about my room, but maybe I am too particular about men. Let’s face it; there are no perfect guys, just like there are no perfect animals. Wow, now there’s an analogy!

Maybe Oreo looks at my roommate and me and says, “No wonder you’re both single. My owner loves me too much, since sleeping with the cat will never bring a man home, and the other one won’t let anyone near her room!” Meanwhile Oreo’s complete needs are being met (kind of like most of the men in this area).

Oreo loves to play in the morning (If you know me, you know I’m not a morning person). I’ll be in the bathroom trying to do my makeup when suddenly he’s outside the door, turning the latch and wanting to come in. Sometimes I reciprocate by allowing him entrance. He knocks over my trash can in order to get my attention so that we start the monotonous “fetch the Q-tip” game. Yes, I throw the Q-tip down the hall, Oreo fetches it and runs back with it in his mouth (yes, this is a cat, I’m talking about). Sometimes he doesn’t want me to leave the room and he’ll wrap his paws around my leg. I wind up dragging him into the hall. Again, it fulfills his playtime needs though I wind up having a badly scratched leg and lame excuse for being late for work.

My fear is this … Like Oreo, males today are strictly only looking for play. NY Dating columnist, Maura Kelly calls it something like this: Men today suffer from “Relationship Bulimia”. Although they never appear sick, and look as healthy as oxen, men will characteristically binge on an unsuspecting female and then after a month or so, they dump them like the regurgitation of chopped liver. Relationship Phobias with a monthly bout of Chronic Relationship Bulimia – No thanks! Now you know why I lock my door, you overweight ball of fur! VACUUM…ON!…VROOOOOOM!!!

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

I Love Christian Bale and Now I Need Therapy

From the first time I saw Christian Bale in Treasure Island, (I think I was 7 years old) I have been madly in love with him. Well, that is in the movie star ga-ga sense. Then there came Newsies where he actually sang and then a year later, he made Swing Kids where we all witnessed his hot moves on the dance floor.

Now that Christian and I have both matured, it has been a thrill watching him develop into a phenomenal and well respected actor…all while sitting with a bag of popcorn on my lap. Batman Begins, American Psycho, The Prestige, and 3:10 to Yuma are just a few of my favorite Christian Bale films.

I could watch him and watch him and watch him all day (sigh)…

S T O P! Wait a minute! …He looks exactly like who??? No! Please….No! You too? You too think he looks like … Oh man! Everyone thinks the love of my life…my total lust….looks like….my brother? Oh no…I can’t lust after someone who looks like my brother! That’s sick!

After comparing around 20 pictures of both Christian Bale and my brother this week, with the fine help of my office coworkers, it has been decided that my brother and Christian Bale are look-alikes. I still have trouble seeing it because it kills me to accept it. My brother has blonde hair, Christian has dark brown hair. My brother has blue eyes and Christian has brown eyes. How can this be? I’m told….they have the same face.

Now, I’m worrying whether I have some deep rooted sick attraction to my own brother…no…no…no way! We’ve fought over the bathroom for too many years, He’s teased me a mega million times, and quite frankly the only thing we’ve mastered together growing up is the art of dating each other’s friends (which never worked out well by the way).

Maybe this whole attraction thing stems from the fact that girls seek to marry someone that reminds them of their dad. Maybe my brother, as an extension of my dad, is all apart of that familiar male thingy that girls go through. You know…who they are attracted to…Wait. What am I thinking? Just because my brother has grown over the years into looking somewhat like Christian Bale doesn’t mean I have some perversion to my brother. I liked Christian Bale way before my brother had to go and freaking look like him. I am just fine…There is nothing wrong with me. In fact, there are probably a million girls out there who love Christian Bale and even have hideous looking brothers.

Today, my brother stopped by my office to grab a cup of coffee with me. As we sat there together sipping our coffees out of nowhere, this girl approaches us, looks at my brother and says, “excuse me…but did anyone ever tell you that you look like, um, oh what’s his name…” My brother and I looked at each other, smiled and said in unison – “Christian Bale!”.

Here’s a little Christian for ya...