The dance of the dating world

What is it about beauty that paralyzes us, swirls around our head like a heady waft of laughing gas, makes us foolish?

And sometimes, if it's beauty in the same sex, makes our heart droop until its tingling uneasily in the acidic pit of our stomach...

It doesn't even make sense for me to feel that way, not really. I'm cute, I'm successful (or so people seem to think), I'm quite confident in who I am. But seeing the picture of a certain someone-that-I'm-interested-in's sister bent my confidence over like a punch in the gut. She's gorgeous, knock-'em-dead beautiful, model worthy.

And I can't help but think, yikes, there goes that crush out the window. I'm no beauty queen. I couldn't do all that preening even if someone taught me how.

Perhaps I'm wrong to assume a certain standard is set by one's family genes, but I don't think that's all that far out there.

Anyways, it's not really about the beauty or anything that vain, but instead the uncertainty of the dating world. There is so much room for uncertainty in the beginnings of a relationship. The courtship, if you can still call it that, is almost deliciously painful in its ups and downs.

And then there's the inadequate representations of your personality. Fit your profile in a 100-word text block. Impress upon someone in the span of a few hours the very nature of your life and get a sense of the compatibility of your personalities. Then, if you've got an inkling of a feeling, the dance of dating begins.

Perhaps I'd do well to follow in the footsteps of a Japanese proverb that says "We're fools whether or not we dance, so we might as well dance."

It's quite the workout, but at least I've always enjoyed dancing.

Ode to iPods and sounds of silence

I love the sound of silence, or rather to be more accurate, the sounds of life, of movement, of the moment. Unplugged, I listen to the droning of a lawnmower, the chirps of a swallow and her chick, the tap-tap of shoes on sidewalks as I walk home.

Recently, I purchased a cell phone, a leap for me considering I've shunned the technology for the past two years. So, when I made the decision to leap into the future, I decided to jump ahead of the pack and bought a swanky little toy with camera/video capabilities plus radio options and the ability to store 150 mp3s. I became obsessed with the latter, popping in my tiny earphone buds and listening to the eight uploaded songs over and over and over again. That, and radio too.

I found it (surprise) drained my battery hella quick, but also robbed me of my usual reflective walks.

Then, yesterday, hanging with the boys, one guy said to the group, "Hey, you guys have an iPod charger? Mine died on the way here. I actually had to listen to my thoughts."

One friend responded, "Fuck, you poor asshole." I'm not sure he was joking.

It made me wonder, (here comes the Carrie Bradshaw-esque mid-Sex & the City question): are we a generation of anti-thinkers too busy rushing through life or are we just desperately seeking privacy by tuning out the world?

A day after my friend's comment, I was walking home sans cell phone when the guy in front of me began belting out a tune. I could see the thin black wires trailing from his ears to his pocket.

Every few seconds, he'd sing the chorus, his sweet voice streaming down the street. I smiled, thinking sometimes there's nothing better to have a song you love throbbing in your ears and pumping through your veins. If tuning out translates to that quick rush, that hit of energy and happiness, then dammit hook me up.

But every once in awhile, I need to hear the hum of reality as my brain tosses and turns over the day's events, perhaps, as was the case today, trying to make sense of musical shots of happiness versus real-time reflections on reality.