made a map
Today has been a really nice day. The weather is gorgeous even though I wish it were more like autumn. I’ll accept the almost too hot temperatures and sunshine because I like having my windows and a nice breeze. In a couple of months, I’ll be sick of all the cold and snow and the biting wind.
I went to have breakfast at Skillet today, which was really nice. I like working in the evenings on the weekends so I can go have brunch. I’ve spent so may weekends serving people orange juice, pancakes, and eggs that by the time it comes time to eat, I want anything but that. I love breakfast though. It’s my favorite meal of the day. I went to eat by myself, and I spent about half an hour waiting for a table, which ended up being a small one person table. It was perfect for me though. It was strange though, that when the table was ready for me that they announced that I was a party of one. I don’t really care because if I did care, I wouldn’t have gone to eat by myself, but I thought it was strange that they announced it to everyone waiting, parties of 2, 3, or 5. “Sara, party of one.”
I found another poem I liked a lot when I was doing readings for class. I read all the wrong poems, but it’s okay.
I was thinking the other day about what I want in a relationship and characteristics of someone I want to be with because I seem to be wandering aimlessly. In the Vows section on New York Times that I read today, and the bride had once written a list of characteristics she wanted in a man. Yes, I read the Vows most Sundays. Yes, I’m a hopeless romantic. I think I established that already quite well even though I didn’t really realize until like August.
Even though in my mind I’m a hopeless romantic, I always try to be very realistic about things in practice. One thing that I always think about most things in life is that I can want everything, but I should expect nothing. No expectations. It’s helpful because I might want outrageous things like for a date to go well, but if I don’t expect it and everything turns out perfectly, then it’s an unexpected surprise. This applies to so many things, and it keeps me from being overly disappointed.
I’ve always been relatively open minded about the people I become interested in and leave the possibility that I might really connect with someone who doesn’t really seem to be my type. All through my younger years, I was mainly interested in computer nerdy guys. The first guy I really dated played Starcraft and wanted to build his own computer. Computer scientist. Computer engineer. Software engineer. Do you see a trend here? After that it sort of went all over the place. Linguistics. Marine. English. History. Art History. The trend here is humanities.
Anyways, I don’t have a list of what I want in a guy. I’ve never written anything down, and I also haven’t written a detailed thing about what I want for my wedding, which apparently most girls do. They’ve picked out their flowers, dresses, dream ring, bridesmaids, and bridesmaids dresses. They’ve figured out what song they want to dance to for their first dance and what they’re going to serve on what china. This isn’t to say that I haven’t thought of my potential future wedding. I have, but I’ve left it floating in my mind until the day I get a small blue box.
Ugh, back to what I was originally thinking. I think it would good for me to think about what I want from a guy. I remember someone once told me that if they had written a list of everything they wanted in a girl, I would have been all of that and more, but clearly I’m not anymore. It was a perfect autumn afternoon.
What would I want in a guy?
- a love of reading good books.
- acceptance of poetry. He doesn’t have to love poetry, but he can’t be like, “Oh poetry sucks.” I want to be able to share my favorite poems.
- a certain amount of neatness. I’m a little messy, and I have my piles too. The main thing is not living in squalor with gross stuff lining the walls of the bathroom.
- a willingness to dance. Je danse tout le temps. I would love it if a guy would be willing to take ballroom dance lessons so I have a dance partner, and we can share experiences. I want to be those old couples at Glenn Echo Park swing dancing together. Also, I love to dance in general, and even a pathetic attempt to wiggle to the music is fantastic.
- an appreciation for art and photography. I would hope he would like to take photos too so we can go on photography adventures. I love going to art museums so an appreciation for art, even modern art, is preferred, but he must have an ability to laugh at art too.
- the ability for awesome conversations and companionable silences. I guess this comfort would be preferred in any relationship.
- a certain amount of worldliness whether it be philosophy, current events, history of languages, or other stuff like that.
- a desire to travel. I want to travel everywhere, and I would like it if someone would want to do it with me.
- a love for food. This person must want to eat good food, like to cook, and be able to eat baked goods so I can bake things and he can eat it.
- preferably tall. I’ve only dated one guy shorter than 6 feet. I don’t really have preferences for appearance, but generally, I date guys who are tall and have dark hair. I also think he should look decent with some stubble.
- a love for snuggling. I love snuggling.
- Must like Maddy. MUST. If you have a dog allergy, don’t bother. I’m not giving up my dog.
- Gentlemanly behavior. He should make a conscious effort to open doors and such but not be a jerk about it. He should respect that I am capable of doing things but still make some effort.
- Decent grammar. Some minor grammatical infractions are fine because god knows my grammar isn’t perfect.
This isn’t a comprehensive list, but I think it’s a good start. Either way, I’m obviously not going to judge a guy solely on these attributes, but it’s definitely something I should consider.
Praise him for the place he picked.
He shot himself dead in full sight
of the red Irish lord and the rare
albino sea perch. They nosed the glass
and cried to the outside world of air
“he’s bleeding” in some salt water tongue.
The flounder dozed on. The octopus
flashed one disapproving eye at the cop.
The cop found no suicide note. The cop found
no I. D. The gun could not be traced.
They questioned everyone there but the fish
who swam around those being questioned.
You’d have wanted to film it, the visitors
with no answers shaken and sad, the red
snapper behind them gasping, the misfit
rock cod proud of his bad looks
and the yellow shiners turning and turning
like beautiful words going nowhere.
What a beautiful picture.
A year later the case was filed unsolved.
And you? Me? Where should we die given
a choice? In a hothouse? Along a remote
seldom traveled dirt road? Isn’t some part
of that unidentified man in us all
and wants to die where we started?
Don’t we share way back a cold green past
and wouldn’t we welcome dying unknown,
unnamed on the floor of the ocean,
our bones ignored by the only clock there,
that slow unrhythmic waver of kelp —
our bones giving off the phosphorous
that collects in pockets and waits,
then one night washes in glowing?
And lovers, lovers would stop making love
and stand there, each suddenly alone
amazed at that gleam riding sand.
Richard Hugo
