Dancin' with Myself

I got out of work today, so I could get some errands done (like laundry) that I couldn't get done last weekend... because I spontaneously sprained my foot... while sleeping!? Yeah. Maybe it's because I fell behind on my One-a-Day vitamins? Or age? I may look young on the outside, but my insides are telling me otherwise.



Well the other reason I got out of work was so I could stay out late last night, to see one of my favorite artists, Jon Burgerman, who was performing a gig in his goofy little band, Anxieteam, before he flew off again to yet another foreign country (this time Norway).

Here's a portrait of me that he and his bandmate, Jim Avignon did of me on a Cintiq (computer tablet):

I probably live an enviable life, in NYC, making a living drawing stickers and toys. But he makes a living off of beautifully improvised and even witty pop-doodle art that is all accredited to himself. Well, he also does commissioned work for products (toys, sneakers, and the like), but usually he gets free creative reign, free of corporate branding constraints. And he gets to travel the world to show his work and meet other wonderfully creative and interesting people.

I never really envy others much, but I do envy and admire his career direction and ability to retain ownership of his work. –Especially on work days when I casually try to slip in a funny sticker design that says "Superstud" and then am told that Walmart moms are not going to buy that for their sons.

Hey I get it, boss-man, at least I filtered out "Bitchin'" and "WTF". So I continue designing what is good and safe (aka sometimes boring) for kids. (Unfortunately the whole mass-market toy industry is largely controlled by Walmart.)

So I'm testing the waters, splitting weekdays between working for a toy company and spending time on myself and developing my own thing. I suppose it's risky to not go for a stable weekday job, but I did that for 8 years. Usually great things require some level of risk. Now I feel lucky enough to afford that risk, and I feel I owe it to myself to at least try. (Managing my poor attention span and focusing my various creative interests is another thing.)

It's no secret now that I have a crush on Jon, aside from his whole talented artist thing. I tried to deny it at first, because he is so bug-eyed, vegetarian, and geographically inconvenient. But he happens to be a surprisingly humble, awkward, goofy, self-effacing, mumbly, kind, and very amusing Brit who openly sings off-key while playing the ukulele. With a head full of dark hair. Basically, ADORABLE.



While he's possibly the only bearded vegetarian I would ever want to date, he's not really datable. He lives for doing what he loves, which is to have free range to doodle and paint. But he's never in one place for very long. Well I'm just glad he'll be back in NY again someday and I can smother him with hugs again every time he leaves. I hope he remembers that we are supposed to karaoke and tap dance next time he's back.

But what does that mean for human companionship for a world-traveling artist? I suppose for the more brazen, charismatic types (a la Vicky Cristina Barcelona), they recklessly find romance... but maybe others fail trying, while others just don't bother?

Maybe for some, it's enough to do art and music freely and that becomes their love. I mean, if I had to choose between succeeding in art/music and succeeding at a sustaining relationship... I think that would be a toss-up. Maybe lately, more toward the art. Both ways you get what you truly love... but does anyone really get both? We can't all be John Lennon, and besides I want to live longer for whatever reason.

Which leads me to consider my own singlehood. Strangely, that urge to be a mom hasn't quite kicked in yet. I suppose if pregnancy miraculously happens within the next 5 or so years, then okay (I will probably panic) but if not, I think I'll be okay too. I have my worries about being a responsible mom anyway, and I am probably a little bit scarred from a dysfunctional childhood that I am afraid of repeating for another poor soul that would come out of my womb.

My solution to the worry of later regretting not having a child is either adopting a child, OR in a few years, offering an attractive, domestic gay couple to be their child's surrogate mother and then be the Godmother who is secretly the real biological mom. Attention gay friends, hit me up. :)

So I go on dates, but mostly when I go, I feel like I go on them just to have ridiculous stories to tell you, and to confirm that I am happier by myself (well, myself plus all of my inspiring friends who keep me company when our schedules allow for it. Or when Facebook tells me what's on your mind).

Like the time I went on a date with someone who was depressed after watching "Up in the Air". As I tried to comfort him with hot chocolate dessert, I noticed that my date was wearing a BANGLE. And some big-ass ring. –While I was dressed like Ellen DeGeneres without any jewelry on, making me feel entirely butch, which was really strange. I would have made fun of him but he was already so sad already, that I refrained from telling him and saved it for Facebook updates and blogging.

I did try to be open-minded recently and went on a date with someone seven years my junior. He was really amusing but red-headed (just not my thing) and a little too crazy and high-energy. I had a nice time but eventually had to explain why it was bad that I was too old for him. At one point, he said, "I get lonely too..." when he was trying to encourage me otherwise. My response was, "I don't really get lonely. I like being by myself." I didn't mean to offend him, it was the truth. He was obviously the sort that needed a lot of attention, and I am not. He succumbed and realized that I am not the desperate cougar that he hoped I was.

You know that line in the movie, "Up in the Air," about the favorite memories usually involving being with someone else? Clooney's character said this to talk someone into getting married. But he was just improvising to save his sister's wedding. That was not a persuasive scene to me, because I have had some great times all by myself. That sounds a bit narcissistic, but oh well.

Luckily in New York, being out by myself seems all the more acceptable. I went to a concert by myself for the first time last Saturday, and I loved it. I didn't have to worry if someone else I brought wasn't enjoying it. (Although I don't know why they wouldn't; it was freakin' Nouvelle Vague.)



So then I went to the Anxieteam show by myself, and that was nice because I felt more available to just experience it and maybe meet new people without worrying about someone else. And this way I would meet more people that like the same things I like.

I guess usually I'm a little standoffish and guarded with strangers because sometimes you meet someone you don't really care to hang out with. I suppose I'm still figuring how to politely get out of those situations. Is there really any good way out of it? Somebody please let me know.

I was eating a red velvet cupcake at the Anxieteam show, for example, and a fellow asked me if it was a bacon cupcake. I stopped mid-bite and looked up at him and said, "There are BACON CUPCAKES!??" and he was just kidding about it but I was serious and thus disappointed. He thought that was hilarious and then apologized.

Then we talked about how he used to be a vegan while I proceeded to stuff my face and he handed me napkins because I was making a disgusting mess with the delicious non-vegan cupcake.

But also it turned out that he runs a tiny art space out in some boony-town part of Greenpoint, Brooklyn and then I realized it was the SAME random place that my roommate dragged me out to two weekends ago for a never-ending comedy show! I was so weirded out by this, that I punched him in the arm (like Elaine from Seinfeld). And eventually he asked for my number. (Again, very nice to chat with but probably not boyfriend material, not with his 70s mustache. YES, I have my superficial moments.)

Last Sunday, when I spontaneously sprained my foot, I had to postpone a first date with someone new. So I took it as some cosmic sign telling me that the date wasn't a big deal. (Or maybe it was a higher being handicapping me from going back to Urban Outfitters to buy the 5 things I was eyeing the day before.)

The other thing is that there's a 50:50 likelihood that I might move to L.A. within a year or less. So is it even a good idea to fall in love with someone before I make that decision? But who knows really what will happen, and how can I plan ANY of this, really?

(Also I need to stop being attracted to people who live nowhere near NYC. That seems to happen to me on a regular basis.)

So my plan this year is to focus on my personal projects, be more open to meeting new people when I'm out exploring the city, get some exercise, take my vitamins, buy more organic, and go on some dates if anything just for the stories to tell. And to tap dance.