Simple Susan: The Perfect 10

A wise woman once told me she was terribly relieved when she finally realized it was acceptable to be average. So when a friendly old lady asked me on the train the other day, "Why does your generation get divorced so quickly? " I told her it was because we can't handle mediocrity. It's for the same reason that the thirty-somethings of today can't commit to any career path. You were told from day one that you could be a ballerina, a pilot, or even President, but that the main requirement was to be happy. As if that were the simplest requirement. So you seek the perfect happiness in everything you do. You will accept nothing short of excellence. And you don't perceive love any differently. Oh the ignorant bliss we miss with the forever desire to achieve perfection! But even aware it, we will still wander. As for me, I'm still haunted by the impending realization that I might actually be just a simple Susan. Would you dare to be just normal? 

Being Deliberate

The difference between being powerless and being powerful is a short leap that starts with taking regular, deliberate risks.

Opposite Genres Actually One in the Same (Porn vs Romantic Comedy)

The obvious argument: porn and romantic comedy have nothing to do with one another. One appeals to the physical craving, and the other, to the emotional. The first is for one seeking to increase visual stimulation, and the second, is meant to please the affect. But peer deeper, and you find that the two genres actually tickle many of the same desires for fantasy common to us all.

Both genres depict two people coming together to share something very human. Not always only two people you may argue. In porn, you also sometimes see the solo, or the gang. But careful now, the same goes for romantic comedy: the sex-starved spinster who finally recognizes she's happiest alone, or the ever-common love triangle.

So generally-speaking, you've got two people coming together to share something human, committing loving acts and often, in both, nasty ones as well. In both genres you've created completely fantastical situations because fantasy fulfills the desire to experience the kind of pleasure not accessible at every moment. This way so easily attainable - at the flick of your remote.

Let's define these fantasies a bit, starting with the characters. I'm going to stick to classical stereotypes in both genres to simplify my argument, obviously not exhaustive -- I welcome your debate.

In our classical notion of porn, women often have invented personas: the pining maid with her feather duster, the tempestuous cop with her baton, or the punishing teacher and her ruler. These are fantasy generators: these characters give the mind fodder for the actual sex life, further animating it above the real experience. Conversely, the same is true for romantic comedy. You have the male persona that doesn't exist: the single super dad, the stud hiding behind geeky glasses, or the military man turned widower. These too are fantasy generators, you meet them once and the fantasy comes alive, further animating your perceptions of romance in real life.

Beyond the image of the character, their actions are often absurdly fantastical, completely invented to provide viewer gratification. In porn, aside from the obvious exaggerated remarks about size or performance and varying degrees of creative noise making, there is also the lady's request for a particular kind of facial that in reality she couldn't possibly enjoy.
Sorry gentlemen!

The same goes for the opposite genre where we experience the kind of loving monologues and incredible patience from the imaginary man indulging the impossible woman who just won't shut up...sorry ladies. See a clip from The Holiday with Jude Law and Cameron Diaz.

The denouement of both genres is physical sex. In porn, it's actually the climax, understood. In romantic comedy it can be as simple as getting that kiss. However, we all know where that kiss is leading, and that pleases us. Goal attained. After all, who doesn't like a happy ending?

Stay a while (3/3)

Why not try the opposite approach – settle in somewhere for a bit, and force yourself to slow down. Of course, most people with solid jobs can’t afford the luxury of six months spent away from their normal lives. But even if you only have two weeks, choose a country, or even better, choose a region within a country that intrigues you, and stay put. Explore it. Rent a room by the week. Find out where the tourists go, and walk in the other direction.

Meet the locals. You’ll be surprised to find how many people are proud to share their stories and local foods. And the curiosity is mutual. People all over the world are obsessed with U.S. culture and want to know equally as much about you.

It’s when you learn bits of the native language that you actually tap into the culture. It’s when the kids in the street drag you home to grandma who winds up teaching you how to make tortillas and demands you stay for dinner. It's when you force yourself to eat a lard sandwich just because it pleases your host so much to feed you. It’s when you realize that you really aren't in a hurry to go anywhere maybe for the first time in your life. It's when you stay for just one more drink because, once you’ve agreed, the look of satisfaction on the old guy’s face is priceless.

Language barriers can definitely make communication challenging, but the less pressure you put on yourself to hurry through, the more you'll enjoy the ride. If you're truly looking for an exotic travel adventure, take off your coat and stay a while. That's how you'll find it.

Around the world in 14 days (2/3)

This year, you want to do things differently. You would like to believe you’re still young and reckless so you decide to go to an exotic country. You’re prepared for unbridled adventure. You're going to live it up, do it right. Get feral. Who knows, you may even go skinny dipping if the opportunity presents itself. You’re going to be totally carefree...except for, well, a couple of considerations.

You have a budget to stick to, time constraints to follow, safety precautions to think of, vaccinations to plan for, medications to remember, water quality to take into account, and your travel partner’s interests to cater to. On top of all that, you have the pressure to actually have a good time. In the end, if the trip turns crap, you’re a grand poorer at the very least and your only vacation time this year was spent being sick, miserable or both. Despite the logistics, you're determined to make it happen.

Ready, here comes the villain in disguise. You only have two weeks; how much can you fit in? You probably won’t choose Western Europe next year, so you've just got to see as much as possible. This is a problem we’ve all come across. Raise your hand if you've ever found yourself thinking something like, “It would be a shame to go to Italy and not hit Venice on the way out.” Or maybe, “Couldn’t we stop by Paris, just for the weekend?” But wait, London-Amsterdam-Paris-Rome-Madrid and then home in two weeks? How many times have you heard someone say he'd done Europe, when he actually spent less than a month traveling there? Do you suppose he remembers any one city from another?

Don’t get mad at me now, you promised! But what is the point? Did you do it just to say you did? And how shallow is that? Come on, wake up and smell the spotted dick-gouda-baguette-spaghetti-paella, how could you possibly swallow all that in just a couple weeks and come home to say you’ve officially done Europe? Instead you're more likely to say something like, “What was that sad singing they did again, Fazo...Fabo...? Where did we see that?” You can’t remember. For shame! As tempted as you were to stop at that restaurant where you heard the lady singing, you didn't. Instead, you were running to hop back on the Eurail to Seville to catch a glimpse of flamenco dress before jumping on a plane to the next place....

One metropolitan city is the same as the next when you only have a day or two to see it, not to mention the sheer stress of high-velocity travel in a country where you speak little or none of the native language. The anxiety is enough to force you to drink Starbucks, eat at McDonalds, and get your souvenir T-shirt at Zara just because you know it’s safe. In the end, you’ve missed out on what’s unique about the food, and when you think back, you realize you met more tourists than locals.

To be continued...

Consciously Seeking Mindlessness

NPR is underrated. It's soothing to have a nice voice telling you about what's going on in the world. And there's nothing you have to say, really no obligation from you at all. Turn it on, turn it off. Radio can fulfill the same desire as does TV - you gain insight about the wide world outside of your life in a way that is undemanding of you. However, many people would agree that TV nowadays is mindless, and you can argue that NPR is certainly not. But does this mean that people are actually consciously seeking mindlessness? Why not just stare at the ceiling for an hour? You’d get the same result, and it’d probably be more relaxing.

New York City Strangers

He's a seven-foot tall black man, skin like the 80% cocoa chocolate bar. He's sitting behind a chess board at Union Square, chin resting on a propped up arm. He's waiting patiently for his next opponent. In passing hesitation, I wink, but only to allow him, or me, the momentary fantasy that he had met his match.

Strangers on the Subway

79-year old white man, worked for The New Yorker for 30 years as a copy editor. He slouches over the book he’s reading, some nobody’s biography. As the Alzheimer’s progresses, he begins to find more and more mistakes on the printed page. He thinks he's getting sharper. What he doesn’t recognize is that he’s filling in all the os and bridging the gap between the double ts.

42-year old Peruvian fellow, studying a 1950s Dick-and-Jane type English learning book with a sort of dreamy zeal. He’s dying to practice his English, and keeps looking up at the friendly-looking girl next to him. Maybe she’d like to talk? She notices and tries to strike up a conversation. He begins to look frantic, the train stops, and he says “Bye Bye.” But instead of getting off, he moves to the other end of the train.

46-year old black man with a neatly trimmed and graying beard, wearing thick shoe laces because he pays attention to what's in style these days. He has a considerably wide space between his eyes. He’s a god-loving, good man that lives his life the best he can despite his mental retardation, a gift from his mother before he was born. She drank every day of her pregnancy to celebrate how happy she was to be having a baby.

Take off your coat and stay a while (1/3)

World travel, for me, means setting up camp in one country until I can make enough cash to move on to the next. Trying to find a reason to justify that method, maybe a reason slightly more romantic than admitting I can’t afford it any other way, I started thinking about what differentiates the experiences of poor travelers from those of the rich, and why it is that people choose to travel to exotic countries in the first place.

Traveling to an exotic country means going where you don’t speak the language: you’ve practiced donde esta el baño one hundred times, but your heart still pounds out of your chest to ask. The climate is like none you’ve ever known: your coffee gets cold in two minutes and you’re wearing flip flops in the rain. Everyone looks at you funny: you’ve started dressing according to custom, even dyed your hair, and somehow you still can’t hide.

Just a sample of the torture inevitably linked to exotic travel explains that your desire to experience it can’t be for vacation. Not the relaxing sort anyway, unless you are planning to remain within the confines of the resort, where the locals serve all the comforts of home, not to exclude your whole wheat bagel and latte, oversized towels in your private bathroom, plush linens, and a fresh copy of the New York Times. So tell me again, why was it that you chose to travel to the Mexico Hyatt instead of the Manhattan Hyatt?

Before I make you feel too guilty, or you begin to write me off as overly pretentious, let me assure you that I’m not innocent either. I never have and never will turn down an invitation to a fancy hotel in any country, just for the sake of traveling the right way. I may be stubborn, but I’m not stupid. But just humor me for a bit.

To be continued...