Old Familiar Faces

So, many who read this will probably figure out who I am talking about, but, whatever.

This weekend I had dinner with a former beau (we will call him Beau #1) who I haven't seen in probably 6 or 7 years.  While our relationship may have ended in college, for me there was always something special about our time together.  What was that something? I don't know. It was just a connection between us. Our conversation was natural and fun.  We reminisced, caught up on the goings of the last few years, happenings of family and friends, and future plans.  He remembered things about me, little things, things that seem silly, but in reality demonstrate our past connection (even though that connection was 8 years ago).  Like he laughed and didn't seemed surprised that I quote "Tombstone" a few times a week at work (I was still quoting movies back then), because, even back then, it was one of my fave flicks. While that may seem silly, it was selfishly reassuring.  I laughed with #1 about something that was "typical" Becca, or something that was "totally" #1 (or not), but I don't think that would happen with some subsequent beaus.  While we are only mere acquaintances now, our relationship then was important, special and fun; that no matter that so many years have past, we remember the wonderful fun times we had. We had some bad times, lots of rough patches, but we chose to discuss the good ones. Isn't that what really matters?

I started thinking about what other relationships are like that.  They are few and far between.  And I thought about the fact that Beau #1 may really know more about the person I am today than some people who are currently in my life. I think those moments with some other beaus would not include laughter but a rolling of my eyes.  That falls a bit on me.  I don't know if I wasn't open to having those moments; maybe I am in a bad spot without the luxury of hindsight (and it hasn't kicked in yet).

I think he knows what defines who I am more than subsequent beaus that I had spent significantly more time with, or it could just be the luxury of time.  If it's the former, what does that say about me? More importantly, I think, what does that say about my relationship with these beaus?  Did I not share that information?  Was Beau #1 just more receptive? Did he care more?  Did I care more? Was understanding people in his life more important than the others? Was I not as open or receptive to being "read" or understood because of my history with Beau #1 (and other men folk)? Was it just the fact that it was "young love"?

I don't think I intentionally kept little things about me secret, but maybe as I have become older and more cynical I have done so subconsciously.  Or was I blind to the fact that later beaus just didn't "get it" or that this type of "loyalty" wasn't as important to them.

So where is the difference? I think that loyalty is a big part of relationships (I am not talking about loyalty that, say, soldiers have on the battlefield, but strictly personal relationships) - whether it is to a romantic partner, friend, coworker, etc - and to be loyal you must have compassion, sympathy, empathy and understanding.  You can't be loyal to someone without knowing them .  You know what makes them tick, what to say that will always make the laugh, and what will make them see red with rage.  You have to be able to tell them you are sorry and put yourself in their shoes and feel their pain.  You have to have these pieces to have a real relationship with someone - whether romantic or friendship.  Its in your gut. That is what fosters loyalty and unless you are willing to find all of these things, you can never truly be a loyal friend or lover.  

I take pride in my loyalty to others, and my friends' loyalty to me; we all share each piece of the puzzle.  We surround ourselves with people like us, and if you yourself cannot appreciate these traits, you probably surround yourself with people with similar approaches to relationships, and as such they would probably not covet such traits.  And while you may be floating along believing you have a deep circle of trust, I would disagree.  Without loyalty, compassion, empathy and understanding, how can you ever truly trust or put yourself all in?  Would your friends call you if they need something? If not, then how can you be so sure that your circle of relationships is a real and healthy one?  And, in my opinion, these people are not necessarily ones that are "true" friends. Ergo, they would not be people I would want to surround myself with.

We can all find people that share pieces of the puzzle - those values of compassion, empathy, understanding and ultimately loyalty - and epitomize what we want in a partner (or friend).  If we allow ourselves to find it.

Doc: Sure you do. Say goodbye to me. Go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that beauty from it, don't look back. Live every second. Live right on to the end. Live Wyatt. Live for me. Wyatt, if you were ever my friend - if ya ever had even the slightest of feelin' for me, leave now. Leave now... Please.

Wyatt : Thanks for always being there, Doc.

Superbowl XLVI - Deja Vu All Over Again

I sat through this once before.  No, I am not speaking of a Giants/Pats Superbowl (while we all did), I am talking about a heart-wrenching Championship series/match-up between the "big brother" from New York and they arch enemy (yes, ARCH enemy).  It was the Phillies/Yankees World Series. 

As a die hard Mets fan, the Phillies were the d-bag division rivals whose fans have a propensity to be jerkoffs (generally - and when I say generally, I mean it, I am not trying to brand all Phillies fans as anything, I am merely going on observation.... I will say that at each game there were ALWAYS pockets of fans who were fun, good natured, and decent people); the Yankees were the big-headed boys up the block.  I related it to having to choose to root for the neighborhood bully, or that jerkface cousin down the (Jersey) 'pike who we had to see a few times a year who would always walk up to you and poke you in the eye.  For no reason at all.

I said there was no way I could root for either team in the Series.  There was too much bad blood (like hatred for a bigger, more successful, older family member who you want to throw the turkey at over Thanksgiving dinner) with the Yanks; the Phils were bona fide enemies - no way in hell that was happening.  Short of wishing an asteroid would hit the field and destroy 'em both, there was nothing much I could do but just watch.  And enjoy the game of baseball.

Now, there are those people who say, "you are from New York, you should root for the New York team." No.  I'm sorry.  It doesn't work that way for Mets/Jets/Bills fans or fans of a team in a particular area with more than one regional team in any sport (Chicago, or Florida, or California).  If we want to root for a New York team other than the Mets, we would root for the Dodgers or the Giants before the Yankees (yes, our California defectors are both in the National League, and the Yanks are American League, but you get my point).  You shouldn't dislike a team because of where they are from, and you shouldn't like a team solely because where they are from.  I am from Long Island; I am an Islanders fan.  Just because NYC is the love of my life and I lived in Newark, doesn't mean I should like the Rangers or Devils, respectively, because of their location.

Now, specifically back to the event at hand:

While the Giants have not held on to the "big brother" or "neighborhood bully" title continuously for decades like their baseball kin, I am starting to feel that way.  It only came on this season, really. A bit burned and jealous about my Jets? Sure.  But it was more than that.  At the Christmas Eve game, there were ALOT of nasty hate-filled Giants fan.  One tried to throw down with me as we were leaving the stadium.  Really?  Please.  I sat next to a few Giants fans who I had only met that day - we had fun, ribbed each other for crappy plays, etc. All in good fun - just like when I go to Mets/Yankees games.  But, there was just something DIFFERENT this time around.  

Anyway.  As with the Phillies, there is no way in hell I could root for the Patriots.  They are that jerkface cousin down the (Mass) 'pike who like to spit in your Cheerios just because they can.  Not to mention, they are led by the devil who doesn't own a complete shirt with original sleeves.

And, it is so hard to deal with a team that is not your own, owning your sport in your own backyard.  Heartwrenching.  Something I have gotten used to over these many a years.

So, after all that.  I am merely looking forward to a good football game.  It will be high scoring - 2 QBs playing at their best, playing indoors, a Pats team with a horrible secondary - so I look forward to some fun plays.  I am going to enjoy the game -- I won't high five when a particular team scores (or doesn't).  I will celebrate great plays.  I will enjoy the game of football.

Permanent Renter?

My homeowner coworkers discussed their septic tank, snow clearing and other home-related issues.  I pronounced that I think I will be a permanent renter.

So why a permanent renter?  I don't know if I ever want to establish roots.  Or more so, I don't know how to.  The longest I lived in a home was 4 years (8th grade through first half of 12th grade) - been to 7 different elementary or middle schools before staying put in high school.  I am not angry or damaged by it (some may disagree with that), that is just the reality.  And things like that impact someone - one way or another.   

I am just me - Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with them.  As Cullen Bohannon said: always have one eye on the door.  For now.

I then continued to say that if I marry someone, we may eventually determine to establish our stronghold somewhere permanently, but maybe not.  They might be a nomad like me.  Or, I would just marry someone rich and famous (not necessarily famous, but rich), and we could buy a house... just because we could; and up and go as we wanted.  Wouldn't that be somethin'? (I am centered in reality - but a girl can dream). 

Not to mention, I am allergic to grass and pollen, so mowing lawns is a no go.  I don't need sprawling spaces every day - just maybe a plot of land or a balcony to read my book and listen to my Metsies on the radio.  Of course, I do need my fix of bonfires and fields and farms - in doses.  While I may be handy with a hammer, nails and a wrench - handling all that on my own is not my bag. 

In response: "well, when you are rich (or marry someone rich) you can pay someone to take care of the lawn and various chores."  Touche, my friend.  Touche.

Of course, since I dropped the M-bomb in a hypothetical ("if") scenario, the focus turned to the "when" instead of the "if." Yes, I did made a promise to myself that I wouldn't even think of marriage or kids or any other established commitment until 30.  I made that promise to myself - something I had to do for me based on the things that went down in my childhood and wayward thoughts I had on commitment in college.  And here comes 30. Just because the promise sunsets come November 7th, doesn't mean the hunt is on (well, unless you are Anson Mount, Bradley Cooper, or Kenny Chesney); it does mean that I am ushering into a new phase, and maybe the provision will ultimately be extended.  Husband hunting season doesn't necessarily open when the sun rises on 30.

For now, I am content in my one bedroom apartment solo.  I always have one eye on the door and a hold on my own heart.  Until someone gets me to let go of it (and proves they are worthy of it) or some place proves they deserve me to establish myself in one spot, I am a non-permanent resident of here, but a permanent resident of me.  Running wild on a one-woman journey until I maybe find someone to be free and wild with me.

Tentative Schedule of Bad Ass Adventures (so far)

2012 marks year 30, so I am scheduling my year of bad ass adventures leading up to November.  Open to suggestions and co-conspirators. Here's what we got coming (will update as new adventures are scheduled):

January:

February:

March: St. Pats in Boston

April:Mets 50th Anny Conference at Hofstra

May: Paramotor Tour
June: VEGAS!

July: Zipline down Hunter Mountain

August: Double dose of Kenny and Tim; and SKYDIVING

September: Madonna

October: IRELAND!

November:

12 Days of Christmas - Bex Style

January 6th is Epiphany (the 12th day of Christmas), so I came up with my own 12 Days of Christmas.  It is a pseudo take on the "Wish List" that got me in trouble in college.

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love (me) gave to me: 

Twelve badass adventures leadin' up to the big 3-0;

Eleven winnin' the Chase;

Ten times more fun;

Nine Willem Dafoes Riverdancin';

Eight glasses of RonRon Juice;

Seven nights a week with a hot (and smart) man (Anson Mount for serious at the top of the list - but I am also down with Bradley Cooper, Jeremy Renner, David Wright, John Cusack, Ike Davis, Chris O'Dowd, Colin Firth, Colin Farrell, Kenny Chesney or a dude with a fabulous accent);

Six points that were robbed in the Sugar Bowl;

Five goooooold rings (one each for my Hokies, Mets, Jets, Isles, and Knicks);

Four awesome nights in VEGAS;

Three healthy babies for those in my life;

Two kick-ass Kenny and Tim (and Jake Owen and Grace Potter) concerts;

And a Becca-fabulous year!

Dirty 30 and Bucket Lists

2012 ushers in my 30th year on the planet, and come November 7th, I will no longer be "twenty-something."  There are still tons of things that I have always wanted to do, but never got there for whatever reason.  I think this milestone birthday is a good instigator.  One of my very best gf's had the same thought and booked a trip to Vegas; she also decided that in each of the 6 months leading up to her 30th birthday in June, she will do something "bad ass."  I will do the same.  So, here's the list:

• Skydiving
• Bungee jumping
• See a game at Wrigley Field
• See a game at Fenway Park
• Attend a Madonna concert
• Go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras
• Go to Disney World (this is tentatively my 30th bday trip)
• See Niagara Falls
• Go to Savannah, GA for St. Patrick's Day
• Take an overnight train trip (a la North by Northwest)
• Visit Haight Ashbury in San Francisco
• Go to Nashville and the Grand Ol' Opry
• Visit the Motherlands: Ireland and England
• Learn to Irish Jig

Childish v Childlike

As I sit here in my Fraggle Rock t-shirt and there is a load of laundry going full off Muppets and cartoon shirts, I think about the difference between being childish and being child like (or young at heart). Lots of things have gone down over the past year that have called such definitions into question - based on all of that, I have come to the (semi) conclusion that being childlike is more about a state of mind or approach to life, and being childish is the action of reverting back to that less competent, immature state we found ourselves in many moons ago.

But where do we draw the line? When does it become applicable to tell someone to grow up? Do we mean grow up in the sense of stop watching the Muppet Movie and Thundercats, or is it restricted to our approach to the rest of the world? Can we be a man of a Muppet and still be functional "adults"?

The way I see it, being childlike or young at heart is an approach to life and it may reflect our approach to life as children - do what you love, think what you want, and just be. Nothing in the world to worry about but catching up on cartoons, reading whatever books you felt like (well, maybe that was just me), and being home in time for dinner after your mom hollared down the block.

When "Interview with the Vampire" came out nearly 20 years ago (hello, young Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt AND Christian Slater), I wanted to read the book first. So I did - not because I felt obligated to, but because I wanted to. These days, I feel like I should or must read books before the films to be a part of that "conversation," whether it is "Harry Potter" or whatever. As a child, I didn't feel that pressure or obligation. I did it because I simply wanted to.

I love watching cartoons from my childhood (thanks Hulu), and sometimes cartoons of today (thanks "Phineas and Ferb"), partly because of nostalgia, partly because I want to escape (and they are actually funny and put a smile on my face). I watch Disney movies on a regular basis, maybe because I remember seeing them in the movies, but also because they remain relevant even 50 years later.

So, again - childish v. young at heart. When we consider someone's thought process or actions as "childish" I think we correlate such things to the negative aspects of a child's approach to life. Maybe overly simplistic. Maybe not logical. Maybe selfish. Maybe just total nonsense. We did or thought such simple, illogical, selfish things because we didn't know any better. Usually, as we grow older we learn from such decisions, actions or approaches, and learn that they are silly and simplistic and selfish. But, when we don't care to absorb and learn those things, or simply refuse to acknowledge it, we continue in a cycle of selfish, illogical, overly simplified decisions and actions. Growing up really means embracing the mistakes we made, whether thoughts, actions, words or experiences. We learn from them, we mature, and we become stable, contributing human beings. We become adults in deeds, thoughts and actions; how we treat others. How we embrace them, and ourselves.

So, keep being a (wo)man of a Muppet - learn and grow. Mahna Mahna.