Abacaxi Mamão

I can't really explain this current restless feeling. I even feel too restless to write at the moment, which is very unusual for me.

If I didn't have to be here at work for another 3+ hours, I would go for a long, brisk walk. (Don't feel too bad for me. I got to work late, too. I work funny hours.)

Alternatively, I feel like I need to either go running until I feel like my lungs are going to burst (shouldn't take long in my current state of athleticism or lack thereof) or be party to some kind of high drama. Preferably some kind of high drama directly involving me.

Do you know what? I'm in the mood for someone to fall head over heels in love with me, or me with them. Preferably, each of us with the other. I'm ready for someone to come along and sweep me off my feet in a stereotypically gendered way. Anyone want to audition for the role? I'm even prepared to swoon, should the occasion call for it.

Or maybe some unknown, long-long relative would appear and agree to finance me for a year so I could stop working and figure out what I really want to do with my life. That would be some high drama!

Or I could find a really cheap, centrally-located two-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side, available August 1, that doesn't have peeling paint or leaking walls. That would also be some unexpected high drama!

This is not such a usual occurence for me, this craving of emotional excitement in my life (a.k.a., "high drama"). Life often provides enough of its own, natural, organic high drama, and when it doesn't, I am usually happy to sail along on the calm seas until something exciting happens of its own accord. I'm certainly not one to purposely pick fights or manufacture high drama on my own.

At the moment, I'm sort of tired of writing to guys on Frumster, but my current undiagnosed itchiness for high drama won't let me stop. I'm corresponding with someone who told me that our goals in life don't match. But he seems so nice, thoughtful, and interesting that I wrote back anyway. It's extremely unlikely that anything will ever come of it, because he lives far away, both geographically and, I think, probably, also religiously/culturally. He keeps writing back too, though, which is neither here nor there, but definitely not an indicator that he is smitten with me.

What I'm trying to say is that I'm ready for some euphoria, and it doesn't look like anything that I have planned for the next few weeks (or months) is going to provide it. My to do list includes: do load of laundry, unpack from recent trip, organize papers from 2006 (and some last holdouts from 2005? ack!), do taxes, clean room, clean for Pesach, pack for Pesach, and other assorted non-euphoric activities. Work is providing the usual set of relentless tasks, except possibly in a more compressed time period than usual. That's not euphoria-inducing at all! To compound the lack of euphoria in my life, I had a depressing conversation on Saturday night with a (single female) friend of mine over the difficulties of finding a man when you're a smart woman. I'm in no mood at all to bitch and moan about this particular topic (perhaps another time), but the fact that a serious selling point of someone I once dated briefly was that he genuinely respected my intelligence does not bode well. I mean, shouldn't everyone I go out with respect my intelligence? Why is that a plus rather than a given?

In short, what I'm trying to say is, Does anyone have any euphoria to spare? And would someone please come along and sweep me off my feet?

Waiting (im)patiently,
ALG

Labels: dating, life