Notes from the Red Bird House

A friend told me this week that she envies my life. In all honesty, I hear that quite a bit. Usually it's from people who lack the freedom I have because they are either married, have kids, hate their job, find themselves landlocked in debt, or (e) all of the above. Most are not unhappy, per se. They just aren't as free. They see me and my carefree, easy, peaceful, happy, do-whatever-I-want-when-I-want (amid financial constraints, of course) life and wish they could have what I have. I don't doubt their envy. If I wasn't me, I'd envy me, too. Which is probably why I am who I am today. I've always envied and respected 'free' people. Let me reassure you, as I did my friend, this life isn't for everyone. Every choice has a benefit, but it also has a cost. The cost of being free? Loneliness, no spouse/partner/girlfriend/significant other, no ready-made 'Plus 1', no 'First Call', no financial back-up, minimal connection, and lots of addr

Some day I hope to maybe need my 'Exceptions List'. You see, at this point they aren't 'exceptions'. I'm single and therefore I can (feasibly) sleep with anyone I want without fear of reprisal. The Exceptions List, in its purest form, is intended to be a 'get out of jail free' card for those who are married, partnered, or at the very least committed. When the expectation is monogamy, an Exceptions List is crucial. Sure, the chances of ever meeting anyone on that list are slim but what if? Seriously, what if? You're in LA at a boring conference for work and you and a couple of your more fun co-workers decide to hit a few bars. While waiting at the bar for the bartender to get your drinks, ___________________ (fill in the blank) slides up next to you. You begin to chat, laugh, and find yourselves otherwise attracted. You ask him/her to join you and your co-workers but you find that they have left. Now it's just the two of you (his or her friends

I think it's time that I acknowledged that it's not 2002 and it's not Norton Pines Athletic Club. Those were the days. I was motivated. I went straight to the gym after work every night and both days on the weekend. My routine was her routine. Or her routine was my routine. The answer to that one got blurred one night over drinks in May 2002, but it sure explains why I saw her almost every day for nearly eight months. When I say I 'saw' her, that's exactly what I mean. 'Saw'. She did what she did and I did what I did. We never spoke to each other or interacted in any way (until we did). From my vantage point on the stair climber or from almost any station in the weight room, I could see her. So I watched. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen and my motivation. I loved going to the gym. Loved it. Even if my workout sucked, I still had her. At a distance. That was then. This is most definitely now. Beautiful women are few and far between

I decided recently that I like Now. Yes, Now with a capital 'N' (as opposed to now with a little 'n'). I think it's some kind of Buddhist thing, but for me it's more about sanity and patience than religion. Being in the Now is supposed to be a good thing. It means living in the moment, rather than worrying about what comes next and next and next and next. Which is what I used to do. A lot. I mentally sped through the day, always fearing that I wouldn't get everything done. I'd be doing one thing all the while ruminating about everything else I still had to do. I was constantly stressed and unable to enjoy even the most enjoyable things in my life. Then I discovered Now. I'm still not perfect at it. From what the Zen people say, it takes years to master and I've only been at it a month or so. Still, though, my level of mastery has made a profound impact on my life. I'm running better, hitting better, reading better, and relaxing better. To s

There is always hope. If I want there to be. And I do. Now. I'm not sure about last week or last month or last year. All I know is today. And today I want hope. For a change. I guess I'd gotten tired of hoping, so tired that I took a break for awhile. Not that I became hopeless because I know that I wasn't. Never have been. Apathetic? Yes. Hopeless? No. Never. It's just that sustaining hope in the face of what most people would deem 'hopeless' isn't easy. Even the most steadfast need to rest, lay down the cross. So I did. Was it a year? Two? It might have three. Maybe more. I honestly don't know. One day it was there and the next and the next and the next it wasn't. After awhile it didn't matter anymore. Life was peaceful and often perfect, as peaceful and perfect as a life without hope can be. Now though, today...tonight...in the darkness here, I want hope. I want it back. At least for now. Assuredly, I will grow tired again. Hope unfette