EDITOR’S NOTE: Thanks for all the positive feedback regarding yesterday’s entry.  It’s nice to know I still can dial up the fastball every once in a while.

In the movie Up in the Air, Alex asks Ryan:

“What do you want?”

It’s a question I ask myself often.  It is very simple, but it isn’t really easy to answer.  My first thought is something along these lines:

She has to glow like Minka, smile like Rachel McAdams, sing and have a stage presence like Lea Michele, age like Annette Bening, and look like said person from yesterday.

But after thinking about it more, I came up with this:

She has to make me laugh, understand my twisted, repetitive-driven sense of humor, high-five me when Tom Brady throws a touchdown, love dogs, be tolerant of the many different types of people I care to associate myself with, cry with me at overly sappy movies, challenge me and also be able to call me on my bullsh*t – which is A) not easy and B) slung more often than I care to admit.

Finally after much thought, it comes to me.

I know what I want!

I want to find the connection, and I want it to come at the right time.

All of that stuff above is meaningless unless (and this is where the asterisk from yesterday’s entry comes into play), you have the connection and good timing. It probably hasn’t happened because it isn’t the right time.

Yet.

The connection is not easily defined by words.  It is more of a feeling, an unspoken yet tangible bond that bounds two similar souls.  It is an exchange of a look, a completed sentence or even a passing glance.  It lets you know that you are in lock step with each other.  Furthermore, it is either there or it is not.  Like Yoda says, there is do or do not, there is no try.  The same holds true for the connection.

I think you can have the connection with multiple people.  I don’t think it is limited to one particular person.  How do I know this?  I’ve had (and still have) it with a few people.  The problem with those connections is that the timing was bad.  You need both to make it work.  You need to connect and just as important, connect at the right time.

It is something we all should hope to achieve when trying to find “someone.”  Otherwise, what’s the point?  Believe me when I say this, any other scenario is a complete and total waste of your time.  If you have the connection and your timing is right, everything else will work itself out just fine.

The hope and promise of finding the connection is one of the things that keeps me going.

I think it is fitting to say that today, on New Year’s Eve.  It is a time or rebirth, renewal and fresh starts.  It is my sincere hope that 2010 is better than 2009, for all of us.  After the shitshow otherwise known as 2009, odds are very good that this will be the case.

Happy New Year, everyone!

A beautiful girl can make you dizzy, like you’ve been drinking Jack and Coke all morning. She can make you feel high full of the single greatest commodity known to man – promise. Promise of a better day. Promise of a greater hope. Promise of a new tomorrow. This particular aura can be found in the gait of a beautiful girl. In her smile, in her soul, the way she makes every rotten little thing about life seem like it’s going to be okay. The supermodels, Willy? That’s all they are. Bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels.

-Paul, from the movie “Beautiful Girls”

Walking into the cozy little urban bistro, you would have thought Helen of Troy was on my arm.  Literally, every eye on the place turned to her.  Girlfriends/wives glared at their companions as their heads turned our way.  I think I heard one of them say, “Why don’t you just walk over and give her your f*cking number?”

It was an eye-opener for me – for sure.  I’m never usually the one put in that position of “what the hell is she doing with him?”  She could be a model and as for me, well I’m just me.  Of course I played it up, with an extra spring in my strut and even adding some extra volume to my already boisterous laugh.

Our waiter practically fell over trying to serve her.  He made it seem like we were the only table he was responsible for.  The best look/reaction came from him when she put her arm on mine as she filled my wine glass.  It’s was a look of, “You’ve gotta be sh*tting me.”  I shot him a menacing wink and half-head nod which, in non-verbal male communicatory terms, said that she rides like an Aston Martin and would suck the chrome off the bumper if given enough bad chardonnay.

Yeah, we men are jerks.  Of course we are.

You know what I like best about her?  She never notices any of this (at least she doesn’t say or act like it).  This kind of behavior is probably “normal” to her and happens all the time.  To me, it is not normal and it is as evident as the day is long.  I am an avid people watcher.  It is what I do.  I love to watch people, hear their stories, and try to figure out their angle(s).  To her, everyone is just “really nice” at this particular restaurant.

I know she is sincere when she says that; we both have that sense of humility that is ingrained in you if you happen to be a high school “bandie” growing up.  You can never really achieve “cool” if you’ve ever worn a plumed polyester uniform during the most image-conscious time of your life.  It’s just not possible.

If the night was was a date, it probably wouldn’t have been a success (not by my standards, anyways).  It’s not that she was vapid and/or vacant, it was just that we didn’t have that connection*.  It wasn’t a date though, I don’t think so at least.  As a mid-thirty-something divorcee, the lines between dating and friendship have become about as clear as a stained-glass window.

You may be reading this and thinking to yourself, “Wow. Finally our blogging protagonist has finally fallen in love.  It’s about time.”  I can assure you this is not the case.  For as we learned in Beautiful Girls, beauty is only skin deep.  I need more.  As Billy Joel so aptly sings, I don’t need some pretty face to tell me pretty lies.

What else is there, you ask?

I’ll tell you tomorrow.

Go to 2:12 of this youtube. Stat.

Do not set artificial blog deadlines when you are at Mohegan all day and there is a great MNF game on – especially one that has fantasy football championship game implications.

Still thinking/working on it.  It has to be somewhat good now after I hyped it.  In exchange for the delay, I offer up this cool link (from a friend’s facebook page) that includes this quote:

Do what you love. That’s the message here. Don’t beat yourself up. Don’t listen to the naysayers. Find one person you trust. And no matter what, do not give up.

Click me!

My Chief Artistic Consultant thinks need new inspiration.

I’ve been working on an entry that is a little different than what I usually write.  It’s not exactly where I want it to be, so I am going to keep working on it.  With the much-anticipated new year approaching, I definitely want to get this one posted in 2009.

I’m wiped right now from the holiday festivites and a long day of watching football (heh), so I’m gonna pull a Jim Caldwell and take my foot off the gas.

Check back tomorrow.  I can assure you it will be worth a look.

Why I believe in fairy tales reason #6,489.

Have a great holiday, everyone!

for the vampire references in this blog entry.  I’ve been Netflixing the hell out of “True Blood” lately.

It only takes about 87 mentions to get me to write after a few day hiatus.  Thanks for checking back even though I haven’t been updating much lately.

There’s a reason for this.  It seems like every time I sit down to write, I either:

A) Can’t think of anything good to write

or

B) Think of something good, but all of my phrasing sounds eerily similar to something I have already posted.

Like Sookie Stackhouse’s blood, lately I feel like all of my creative juices have been sucked out of me.  I’ve said it a million times, but it is really hard to write on a daily basis.  Regarding point B above, I don’t ever want to sound like a broken record (like I did in the last sentence).

One thing that I can write about and that has bothered me lately is the death of Chris Henry.  I know what you are thinking, but bear with me here.  My only real connection with Chris Henry was that I watched him play football every Sunday and he was my sleeper pick for fantasy football this season.  I don’t know Chris Henry and it seems like he was a bad person.  I don’t care how many accounts I read about how he has turned it around – we will never know the truth about that or the true essence of the man.  Frankly, I really don’t care about that stuff.

What does bother me about his story is seeing a twenty-six year old athlete in the prime of his life, senselessly losing said life.  Chris Henry had the world at his fingertips and in a moment’s notice, everything was over.  When a young, known person dies it is a tangible reminder to all of us that life is fleeting and can be over in the blink of an eye.  It is different than the hundreds (maybe thousands) of deaths of people the same age that we never hear about.

Because I follow the Bengals, it hurt me to see the reaction of guys like Chad Ochocinco.  In a weird way, I grieved along with him because he is a part of what makes my fall/early winter each year.  Like a vampire only coming out at night, he’s only on my TV on Sundays yet all over my Twitter feed every other day.

Because of Chris Henry’s demise, I have done things this Christmas season I ordinarily probably wouldn’t have.  I think we need those constant reminders because it is such an important point.  I guess in that way, he’s left a bigger mark on me (or bite, if you will) than he would of had he lived.

Merry Christmas, everyone.  Please Ferris (stop and look around) the holiday and take some time to appreciate the good things we all have, enjoy and take for granted.

only has two things on it:

1) A Super Bowl win for the Patriots

2) A Tag Heuer watch

Realistically, I will probably not be getting either of those things.  I’m cool with that.  The Patriots are not championship caliber and those watches are pretty darn expensive.  Even though I won’t get either item and 2009 has been one of the worst years of my life, I still consider myself very lucky.  The reason I consider myself very lucky is because of the people in my life.

The first item on the list is self-explanatory.  The second one rounded out my list when a woman I never knew of until yesterday made a statement to the press.

Earlier Monday, Tag Heuer spokeswoman Mariam Sylla said the sponsorship is unchanged because Woods remains the world’s best golfer and Tag Heuer does not care about his private life.

“We will continue,” Sylla told The Associated Press. “He’s the best in his domain. We respect his performance in the sport,” she said, adding that Woods’ personal life is “not our business.”

I’m a big Tiger Woods fan and named my last dog after him.  Tiger’s martial transgressions are “not our business” at all.  Before I expand on this, let me make it clear that I do not condone his actions.  I lived in a loveless marriage for years and never once cheated on my ex-wife.  As Austin Powers says, it’s just not my bag baby.

Tag Heuer gets it.  I’ll take it a step further.  My opinion of Tiger Woods has not changed one bit over the past few weeks.  I stopped setting my moral compass by what celebrities do many moons ago.  I have been let down too many times.  I do not know or (probably never will) understand the lives they lead.  Furthermore, I’ve got enough of my own problems/issues to worry about rather than what some stranger I’ll never meet does with his/her spare time.

Charles Barkley had it right: Athletes (and celebrities, for that matter) are not role models.

To me Tiger Woods is a golfer, nothing more.  When all is said and done, he will probably be the best golfer to ever pick up a club.  No matter how many hoes TMZ interviews, I’ll still gladly pay money to watch Tiger swing a golf club.  I had the exact same reaction to Tom Brady and his baby out of wedlock and the report that Manny Pacquiao has some chick on the side.  I only need them to entertain me while doing what they do best.  Everything else is window dressing.

As for my Christmas list, I can wait for the Patriots to get it together and I can save up for a Tag.  Either way, I’ll still have the people I actually set my moral compass by: My friends and family.

No Christmas list could ever equal what those people mean to me.

Taken from my brother’s facebook wall, a post from our friend Mark:

I’m at the Bengals vs. Bears game and we’re up 31-3 at halftime and some random Bengal fan YELLS…..”SO THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE A PATRIOTS FAN!”

I love love love it.