What is an errand, really?

Per conversation earlier today: What is an errand, really?

I wish I had the exact quote from my friend about errands. How we got to talking about my list of hidden "to-do's" escapes me. Nonetheless, they rose to the surface of our conversation. Oh, right, they came from a discussion about purchasing art. I asked for advice about buying a photograph I found that I like.

I've never purchased art before. I don't know if you can negotiate the price or not. My purchase will be a Christmas gift to me. What that means, however, is that my $500 will not be spending cash but a 30 inches by 30 inches black and white, sepia toned old fashioned type writer with a piece of paper and the words, "The End."

The image of the typewriter caught my attention. The words, "The End," melted my heart. I decided instantly, some may say impulsively, to buy it. I haven't bought it, yet, though and have the opportunity to ask advice on the price and if I should go through with it.

In discussing this with my grounded, efficient and practical friend, he suggested I look at more art, photography in particular, if that's my interest. "There are sites online and it's fun!" he said cheerily only to be met with the look of despair on my face. Internally, I knew that I couldn't or wouldn't ever purchase art that way. It has a heaviness to it.

"I'm not a researcher," I replied. He wasn't understanding me at all. In fact, I could see frustration building at the wall that went up in front of him when I was the one asking for advice, guidance, suggestions. I just couldn't see me "getting around to it." I could see me burning out by the labor of exploring all that's out there in the world of art.

There is so much logic behind his enthusiasm and halting me from buying a piece for close to $500 when I don't know what all else I could be buying that I may like better.

This led to the discussion of errands. What else is there on my list that seems overwhelming? I brought up my need to go to the dry cleaners. I also have items to take to Goodwill. Oh, and there's that old year 2000 Dell desktop that needs a good blowing out and recycling or donating. I need to sort papers that are littering my coffee table and desk. I have shelves that need to be assembled and books stacked. (I didn't mention this one to him).

I brought up wanting to have a singing lesson that I've never had. I've had that on the list for years. "My writing partner teaches singing lessons!" he exclaimed as if saying, "See, it isn't so hard." Then he got to work trying to understand what was behind my resistance.

His response was that the word "errand" was incomplete.

We started by making a list of all the items, slash errands I have not gotten to. With each one we broke them down into smaller chunks, if necessary. All right then. I told him that for the number 1, which was having my computer cleaned out, that I'd gone so far to put in my car for days and drive it to work...that's where I will be able to clean it. Now, it's sitting in the garage collecting more dust.

He said that he has a client who would love my old computer. Okay. He gave me the guys name. He thought that would help me. Sure. It does help to know that this is for somebody. That is is for a purpose other than simply getting rid of something old.

Then we talked about the other items on my list, such as finding a tailor. He had given me the name of the tailor weeks before. I believe my response was, "I'll probably get to that in 8 to 10 years." The sad part is the convenience of the name of the tailor he gave me. She will come to me!

So then he began to ask me questions about why I had these errands on my list to begin with.

What do I value? These reflect what I value. What is this bringing up for me?

Copyright by Rachel Drews, 2011. All rights reserved. Any excerpts reproduced from this article should include links to the original.

Cafe Conversations

"The place it's coming from. If it's coming from a wholesome place. They're coming from in their heart. You know, it wouldn't be such a huge deal if he was sleeping around. I trust him. It would be purer, you know? It's different," says the blond girl with sleepy blue eyes.

"What are you saying? I shouldn't mind letting somebody fuck her in front of me," he says from across the table, adjusting his dark framed glasses.

"I think it's awesome," says the other guy at the table before taking a sip of his fresh squeezed OJ.

"If they're gonna do it, they're gonna do it," says the girl.

"No. I'd take offense to it," says the first guy.

Nobody says anything for a minute.

"Weird silence," adds the girl fidgeting with the cheese in her eggs.

"No. No. That wouldn't work for me. It's different. But she was saying she wouldn't do it," insists the first guy.

"But..." starts number three, "I flew my ex-fiance to Venice. We're both really jet lagged. So, I asked her if she wanted to get a massage. There was one right there by the airport. So, the masseusse she was massaging me and asks, 'You want special massage? You want special massage?'" He adjusts the hat he's wearing and continues, "And Michelle was next door."

"Did you tell her?" asks the other guy.

"No. I got a special massage. And I felt guilty."

Copyright by Rachel Drews, 2011. All rights reserved. Any excerpts reproduced from this article should include links to the original.

Inspired by Margaret Cho

Margaret Cho is a new favorite of mine. I'm slow, I realize, to just now be getting into Margaret Cho. (only figuratively, of course) She's brilliant. She's inspired me.

Gay Rights. Gay and transgendered. I'm not completely familiar with all of the politics except that I lived through a "Vote Yes" on Prop 8 in the state of California where gay marriage was made illegal. It struck me as disappointing, in a way where I saw that even in a state considered quite liberal, the social conservative still reigned strong. What hope do other states have then? That was my own reaction, as I interpreted it... until I got to work.

I was heading out to lunch from work and headed out the back parking lot to my car. I passed by the picnic tables near the building where most people were sitting, chatting loudly, fairly jovial. Then I headed up the deck to the adjoining parking lot and passed by a second set of tables, where some of my other coworkers were sitting in a quiet lull, sullen. It was a group of gay men, whom I work with. Normally, they are a lively bunch, quick witted and funny. That afternoon, there was a completely different personna governing their lunch break.

"Hi!" I called out to them. "What are y'all doing for lunch? Why are you sitting off over here?"

"We don't really feel like being around too many other people today," one of the group responded.

And it hit me. Hard. Oh. The look on their faces made my heart break as I realized what I was witnessing. "I understand," I replied, as I headed on towards my car. I felt as if I was bearing witness to something I considered to be a part of history, not contemporary society: socially acceptable human inequality.

Here were my colleagues, my friends, my fellows and in one day, parts of their own community deemed them NOT EQUAL. Their sexuality was judged as "not socially acceptable" and it was VOTED ON! Their humanness was voted on and deemed "less-than." Our society allowed us to question and JUDGE out-right another person's very nature as being WRONG.

I'm dumbfounded even as I write the words. What's wrong with people? Who do you think you are to judge another person as less than? What is so scary about another person's sexuality that you have to make them feel less than to feel safe? What disillusionment of self are you trapped under?

So, when I started watching Margaret Cho's stand-up, Beautiful, and her voice for those who are bi, gay, and transgendered, I was inspired. You go, Margaret, I want to shout! You tell them!

However, something doesn't feel right. When I hear those who are Christian, or fundamentally religious being called, "Stupid," and "Stupid" and "Stupid" for their beliefs, I don't quite feel relief for my friends. I feel as though nobody is being helped. I feel as though those that are "victims" are remaining victims. If I insist I am right and you are wrong, then how different am I than you when you say that I am wrong and you are right?

No matter what my conviction, if I only see my half, then I am no better off than I was. I am no better than those I call, "Stupid." If I can see what the "other half" is afraid of, then I am empowered.

How are Gay Rights different than Race Rights? Most people are afraid of that that is different from them. That is why there are racial prejudices. I judge that as different than me, so I am afraid of it. People act to protect that which they know. There is great fear in the perceived unknown.

What is different in the equality of race, is that we are talking about outward differences. We are talking about the color of one's skin. One is not afraid of the black person within them. That is not where race prejudice comes from.

With the idea of Gay Rights, however, we are talking about a fear from within. We are talking about sexual orientation. We are talking about sexuality. What is the most difficult conversation our society has? Sexuality. Sex. What is the most difficult conversation you could have with parents, spouse, lover, best friends, strangers, etc? Sex! What are our greatest secrets about? Sex!

When we talk about Gay Rights and when we condemn the Conservatives, the religious, the Christian fundamentalists, what we are missing is seeing the fear and what we are asking them to confront within themselves.

We are asking these people to confront the greatest fear within a human being. It has nothing to do with you, if you are gay or transgendered. It has to do with them. It has to do with their own sexuality and fears around it, whether they are gay or potentially gay or not.

If you are gay and are out, then you have confronted those fears already. You have had to have great courage to acknowledge the very nature of who you are separate from society (not because of it) and acknowledge how that nature makes you vulnerable. As sexual beings, we have dishonored our own sexuality out of fear of being vulnerable. Our society does not honor sexuality. It uses it. It perverses it. It abhors itself for it.

As a Gay or Transgendered person you are the courageous one. I believe the key to obtaining, manifesting Gay Rights in our society will not be to condemn those that hate or are afraid of you. I believe Gay Rights will come from great compassion for the fear people have surrounding their own sexual nature.

Self Dating - What Is It and How'd I Get Here?

Dilemma: A good boyfriend who hates traffic and dislikes too many people in a concentrated area. ie Is destined to part and stay in South Carolina. A non-categorizable woman, transplanted to Los Angeles where the dating life takes her for a spin. One that leaves her dry, empty, bored and questioning her sexuality. No. Not whether she's a lesbian. More like whether she's even visible as a woman. At first it was easy. Quick. He showed up in less than 2 months of her moving to Venice, CA. A commercial editor, young and charming. Flirty and shortly claiming he's falling in love. That lasted 8 months. The dry spell began.

To fill the dusty landscape with mirages of water was a mirage in the form of a man. He was tall, tattooed along sexy forearms, smart and oozing vibes of "take me into that forbidden room" and let's DO THINGS. Never happened. Married. Oh. Lessoned learned. Nothing did happen. Relief. Sort of.

Too many delayed nights leaving work, turned to transfixing Whole Foods into a bar of wishful thinking and dreams of connecting to someone as sophisticated mixed with easy wear as the engaged couples wandering the store purchasing their wine and prosciutto wrapped dates. Spending too much for food, gluten free pizza, sure. The lonely walk from the light to the darkened interior of my car knowing that "just me" is heading back to my single space apartment in "the big city." I guess learning to knit while listening to mediation music is not sad when you're in your Jesus Year, never married?

Meeting LA Boyfriend, Number 2, a year and a half after LA boyfriend Number 1, triggers underlying wonderings of worth, attractiveness, and straight out, "Is there something wrong with me?" However, much is quickly forgotten when a young, freshly 28 years old, 6 foot 3 dark haired, sweet lipped man is fascinated by your Southern twang and curvy hips. Chemistry propels one out of dark internal ponderings of self-worth. Not much lasting value, however.

Two months of no communicating is adequate time-off from needing to share every blip of thought passing in a day with LA Boyfriend Number 2. Then with a secure sense of independence and out of love, looking for someone Marriage Marriage material I was sure that I did not want to "try again." Low and behold, following a profound spiritual experience with an Indian guru known as The Hugging Saint, all I wanted to do was rush over to LA Boyfriend Number 2's apartment, throw my arms around him and kiss him as if he had changed and done all the work on himself he'd been promising the last few months of being "friends."

I was assured through a dear friend, that after my spiritual experience I was just in love with everyone and to not act on it with Ex. I was able to maintain that for limited time only. Back to LA Boyfriend Number2 I went. Following our last night together where we lay awkwardly exposed in the realization that nothing had changed and distance was the closest thing between us, I wrote a poem called, Perineal Flowers, blooming every Spring and dying every Autumn.

Major surgery followed that break-up, in the literal sense, and the dryest of the dry spells began. Online dating was suggested by loved ones, including a Mother who recently remarried from an online match testifying to the success of such endeavors. In a previous spell, I'd tried it. First, Match.com followed by Plenty of Fish and Chemistry.com.

Initially, it's exciting. Before long it's terrifyingly tedious, like applying for a job. Is LOVE or relationship supposed to be so inauthentically synthetically generated? It's like the genetically modified version of dating. Yuck. Give me the home-grown on the vine tomato LOVE, please.

I'm trying to recount if I've even been asked out on a date in the last year? I'm going to say the answer is No. That's the back-story. The answer is No. If I've ever questioned my sanity before, well, girlfriend, I'm questioning it now.

Here's what I've tried: Online dating, holding eye contact and smiling, not being the first to say hello (though terrible at this one), standing tall, wearing heels, buying and wearing skirts/dresses, asking the man "What do you think?" while I say what I "feel" via the Pat Allen method of "Getting to I Do." I've read her book. I've turned my attention to activities I enjoy such as running, spending time with friends, writing my novel, attending Artist Way workshops, going to the beach with friends, hanging with guy friends and getting out more. I've had crushes on unemotionally available men. I've tried flirting with people at work. I've tried flirting. Period. I've tried giving up. I've tried daydreaming. I've written lists as to the Ideal Partner. I've cried. I've sobbed. I've been in despair. I've felt unwanted in the deepest, loneliest way. I've been jealous and ashamed. I've considered turning my life over to God and living in a convent or some kind of holy compound.

And fight as I might to rid myself of this plague of my longing, I have a dedicated hope for someone attractive and roundedly available to reflect back to me one thing: Interest. In leu of all this, how does one proceed?

Suggestion:

"Want a suggestion?" asks my spiritual mentor. "Okay," I say sighing thinking that nothing else is possible to help me in this area of my life, yet, I'm giving up to the point that I'll listen. "Start taking yourself out on a date once a week," he says. I suck in air, muted by the idea of putting this suggestion in motion so much that he asks where I went. My mind starts trying to figure out the WHEN and the WHAT of such an idea.

He outlines a program of action for me:

1. Plan the date and time in advance

2. Stick to it, as if it was a real date and I had committed to another person

3. Plan to get dressed for my date, including something that looks good. Put on make up, fix my hair, etc.

4. Do this once a week

Inside I'm moaning, "Ugh..." He asks me if I think I can do it. I tell him I'll try, but I'm doubting it. For weeks, I can't do it. The reason for my hesitation? Resistance.

Resistance:

Interestingly, resistance is strongly present. It was present before I started going on Self dates. It is present after I went on a few successful Self dates. What is this resistance? In another conversation with my mentor, after I've brought up the romance problem in my life, the one area of my life that seems to be empty/blank/void, he suggested that I try going on Self dates again. Once a week.

I had given Self dating a try at the end of July and early August. I had success. Then I stopped. I met the love of my life, a married man where nothing happened or was anywhere near inappropriate, but meeting him shifted that need in me. He made me feel that somebody would show up and that there wasn't anything I needed to "do" any longer. I just needed to "be me" and enjoy being me as much as I could.

I was enjoying being me as much as I could, and still am, except for the occasional moments like when I'm leaving yoga class and feel amazing and open and know that I won't be sharing my openness with anyone. Or there's the moment when it's just before Christmas and I receive cards from friends with pictures of their husbands and themselves with big smiles on their faces and loving children in their arms. There's also the moment, when I'm at work and there's a sexy guy whom I'd like to get to know, he seems funny and charmed by me but nothing happens. He makes no indication that he'd like to see me outside of the brief passing in the halls. Those are the moments when I realize I'm missing something I want. I'm missing the companionship, the sharing of Self, the human touch that is so integral to health and a sense of well-being. There are so many moments, actually, where it's apparent to me that a partner would be wonderful and that I miss having one.

So, when I mention my longing to my spiritual mentor, and he suggests I start by taking myself on dates once a week, and I don't jump at the idea, he wonders out loud what my resistance is. I do, too. "What are you willing to do to get a boyfriend?" is one of his direct questions. My immediate reaction is, "Not much," quite honestly. I realize that I find it inconvenient to make an effort to meet someone. Then he asks me, "How important is this for you?" I start to think about it and realize, too, that I'm not sure it is that important to me.

The resistance about going on Self Dates isn't because I don't want to spend time by myself or that I'm afraid to sit in a movie theater or restaurant by myself. I'm not. Yes, I spend enough time by myself that I'd prefer to be with friends but that isn't it. It comes down to the fact that my life is full of people and activities I enjoy. I enjoy the friends, men and women, in my life to such an extent I feel filled by the laughter and support we share. I enjoy the activities I'm committed to, such as my spiritual development, yoga for exercise and the writing of my novel. I love the time I have to go where I want when I want. I rarely have to consider another person for any decision I make concerning my home and my time. I don't have to do the dishes until I want. I don't have to remember to flush the toilet, if I don't. I don't have to ask someone what they'd like to do for dinner or what show they'd like to watch on TV. I share myself with people when it's convenient for me and never when it's not.

Participants:

Date One:

Date Two:

Copyright by Rachel Drews, 2011. All rights reserved. Any excerpts reproduced from this article should include links to the original.

loving you deeply and scared
to be next to you
scared to follow the plain list you've given me
as if it is a tight jacket
zipped tall across my neck
squeezing my throat

when that isn't what you want for me

soaring is more like it
jumping to the next me
bouncing off moon rock
but even lighter as if
dew is a downpour

and you are a practical you
sitting too close to my Mother
who only gave me the best love

I'm rebelling anyway
it's what I was born to do

Copyright by Rachel Drews, 2011. All rights reserved. Any excerpts reproduced from this article should include links to the original.