I've recently found a new sense of purpose and direction, so my old profile no longer seems right. It isn't incorrect, mind you; it's an aspect of me--the social, somewhat dreamy side of me that likes to see the possibilities in everything--that is always lurking beneath the surface. But I'm going to archive it here:

Since you're looking at my profile on a computer, you don't have the luxury of forming an impression of me based on chance observation, as local people can when they see me every day at the nearby Starbucks. Therefore, you won't have noted that I say "thank you" after every transaction, nor will you have intuited that I'm an enthusiastic and warm person from the way I smile at the barristas that know my name. Your eyebrow didn't arch skywards when I hauled in that odd collection of books, gadgets, tools, and other surprising ephemera to share with my friends; the passing thought that I must be possessed of an [[eclectic]] and somewhat-alarming range of [[creative]] interests therefore didn't flit across your mind. And sadly, you missed the opportunity to sit-in on last week's informal symposium on how to take over the world--just enough of it, anyway--so we can fund our own ideas of purpose, fun, and adventure. If I'd caught you looking our way, I would have invited you to come sit with us. And that would have been the beginning of our [[friendship]].

I'm looking for a long-term relationship with a partner who can also be one of my best friends. I learned long ago that trying to define exactly WHO that would be is an absolutely futile exercise because THE SPARK is mysterious and unpredictable. It's something we will discover together, perhaps over a tasty ethnic dinner in a strange new city, pairing local wines with our favorite [[artisan blue cheese]]. We'll find bits of it in the forest, our presence dwarfed by the grandeur of ancient trees as we search for unexpected treasure. It'll start to come out after you admit to liking something pretty amazingly silly, both of us choking on our own laughter when I confess to something even worse. We may find it at 90 miles per hour, GPS ticking off the miles, as we seek out the only North American distributor of that specialty product you suspect you shouldn't live without. And when we fall asleep each other's arms, groggily looking forward to creating our better tomorrow, we'll know that what we're doing now would have remained mere possibility in the hands of another couple, the shadow of a memory of a path not taken.

So why not say hello? It's a small word, easily said, that just may open the way to something grand. I'm very personable. I'll show you my favorite table at Starbucks, and we can take it from there.

Every once in a while I like to check out a store online called "See Jane Work". I have an irrational love of paper and office supplies, and I enjoy the cheerful upbeat nature of the site. Everything is so cute! If this website were a gal, I'd marry it :-)

Today I ordered my first product, a magnetic chirping bird for holding paper clips. This is probably the least necessary thing I need in my office, but its role is more symbolic than functional. There are these little birds that I see every day at Starbucks in the morning, some kind of common swallow. I usually sit outside if it's not raining, taking in th emorning air, and there's something about the way these birds approach us that I find fascinating. They're tiny, fluffy, and cute. They're also diligent, bold, and industrious. I realized a couple weeks ago that they do a very good job of "just being themselves", and that I could learn a thing or two from them. I sometimes get wrapped up in thinking I should be "more professional" or "building my career", and though I've definitely chosen a more non-traditional path to life-work I still get caught up in thinking about "success" and how people perceive me. Those little birds have no such pretensions, and every day they remind me that my OWN little bird inside of me needs to come out and "just be". That realization has become one of my moral compass points.

That it is now available in a shiny magnetic bird form is just a bonus ;-)

6 weeks ago I ordered a semi-custom shirt from "The Men's Wearhouse". The ideas is that you can get you neck and sleeves measured with the kind of collar, cuffs, and material you like. I have a large neck for my build, which makes it almost impossible to find shirts off-the-rack that fit well without tailoring. The semi-custom option seemed like it could work.

The shirt came in yesterday, and I excitedly headed to Exit 1 to try it on. It didn't fit at all! The neck was an inch too big, and the chest was enormous. It just looked terrible. Natalie, the in-store style consultant I was working with, confirmed that it was gigantic, and promised they would alter it until it fit correctly. She then called over Mary, a dark-haired Eastern European or Russian woman maybe in her early 30s, who looked upon the shirt hanging off my body like a parachute stuck on a tree. She grimly pinned the shirt up for alterations, and Natalie had her bring it in more.

Natalie expressed her official regret that the custom shirt didn't work out. I said it was OK, it was part of the adventure of trying something new and reaching for something that sounded like it could be better. I just wanted something that looked better fitted to my proportions. Natalie then commented that the shirt I'd worn in looked great on me, and wasn't it one of theirs? I answered yes, I'd gotten it a few years ago and had it tailored further. I couldn't button the top button though. After confirming this, Natalie suggested that I just return the custom shirt and buy a new one; they were now carrying fitted shirts that would probably get around the neck issue; apparently, a 19.5" neck goes with a 62" chest, which is 20 inches larger than my actual chest. So I selected another shirt, one with nicer material (I commented that the custom shirt's no-iron material, while it felt fine as a swatch, reminded me of a hospital gown).

Natalie called Mary the Tailor over again, and this time she actually smiled. "This is much better," she said in a clipped accent. She must not have been looking forward to altering the other shirt at all, and so she had been silently biting her tongue.

After talking to a lot of people, I've gotten a better sense of what an online profile should do. I'm providing waaaay too much information in the opening essay because I'm waaaay jumping ahead of myself in the relationship building process!

A little about me first: I like being deluged with information of all kinds, because I like picking out the patterns and interesting lines of inquiry. I also speed-read, and first just take in the shape of things. When I write about myself, I have a tendency to provide the information that I'd like to be deluged by. I forget that people have about 15 seconds of attention span to spend. Doh. I should know better as a designer. Funny how everything you know flies out the window when it comes to applying that to one's self :-)

Secondly, the goal isn't to establish the roots of a long-term relationship, but to establish the impulse to chat for 15-30 minutes :-) That is a different kind of writing altogether!

Back to the drawing board one more time :-)

Here's what it used to say:

I was at the Barnes and Noble Cafe the other day having a nice scone, and I happened to notice a couple a few tables away talking in earnest-yet-measured tones. I realized THEY WERE ON A DATE, and from the way things were going it was obviously a first date: the gal was sitting primly across the small table from a slightly older guy who seemed to be carrying the conversation. I got the impression that they were recently out of college and had been set up on their date by meddling mutual friends. The feeling might have come from the polite vibe they maintained, a byproduct of the thought that "we should be nice to each other even if we don't click, because we like our friends and they didn't MEAN to completely misread us".

As I turned my attention back to my book, I noted a sudden swing in the conversational tempo. The guy was deep into his monologue about work when he mentioned "[[Photography]]" in passing. Glancing up from my book, I could see the gal was noticeably enthused by this revelation. "Really? Photography?" she breathed, leaning forward and brightening with interest. He mumbled affirmatively, but as he was mentally clicking through a conversational laundry list of his hobbies and experiences, he completely missed the moment. After it became clear that he wasn't going to elaborate, the gal leaned back again, somewhat disappointed, and the [[conversation]] started to swing toward topics like the weather and people they knew in common.

This won't happen to *us* when we talk for the first time, if you're [[intelligent]] with something on your mind.

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POSTMORTEM

I liked the idea of trying to make a story out of an observation, figuring that it might at least be entertaining. And also, I liked the idea of trying to convey who I was through a first person narrative. It's an approach, however, that appeals to a certain kind of mind...that's fine, of course, because my goal is to find rare individuals and perspectives, not appeal to everyone. So far, that's working a little TOO well :-)

I did get a few emails that said that they enjoyed the profile, so that was nice.

A few years ago my sister awakened in me a desire to have a scooter, like a Vespa. Not having a garage, though, I never seriously looked into it. The winters here in New Hampshire necessitate some kind of covered storage. What's different this year is that I discovered that a friend of mine ALSO wants a scooter, and she's willing to let me stable it in her garage during the winter. So now I'm totally looking for a moped class scooter for this summer, heh heh. These are small engined scooters that don't require a motorcycle license.

Sis recommended I try to find a used Aprilia Mojito 50, which is a nice substantial scooter; they sort of remind me of the turtle aliens at the beginning of "The Fifth Element". I've also been looking at Genuine Scooter's "Buddy International" line and the Yamaha Vino. I've seen the Vino and it's very pretty, with excellent build quality. The Buddy I haven't seen in person yet, though there's a shop up in Manchester that's a dealer. I figure if I really like the scootering about, I'll get my motorcycle license next year and upgrade to something bigger like a Stella. I love their advertising :-)

Since I work at home, the morning coffee ritual is important to maintaining a sense of connection to the world, which prevents me from going absolutely nuts. Since I'm up anyway, I started going to the gym for a while to just add on to the routine. That was about 7 months ago, and I'm still going regularly...who knew that sweating was actually fun? The trick for me was realizing that complaining muscles was actually a sign that THEY WERE WORKING, and that you didn't have to stop.

Now that I've been going for a while, the routine has become more automatic and I've started noticing other people. The 9-10AM crowd is fairly sparse, as most people have gone to work. There are some older people, a few moms, and other independent career types. Everyone is pretty focused...not a lot of chit chat going on except for some of the older guys.

I recently changed my working schedule so I went to the gym around 7PM for the first time, and thought the people were from a seemingly more mainstream demographic. Still not a lot of chatter, though I tend to tune out other people anyway. I need to brush up on my people-watching skills.

I spent part of this weekend hanging out with my sister. Since it was Thanksgiving weekend, we figured we should cook something Thanksgiving-y. However, we already HAD Thanksgiving dinner with Dad a few weeks ago while he was visiting, and didn't have the energy or interest to roast another bird. So instead, inspired by this description of a Meat Cake, we made a turkey-stuffing-cranberry-mashed potato cake. You can read about it here. My sis asked me what my friends would say, and I said, "Some of them will look at me like I'm an alien, while others will think it's awesome. And others may actually be frightened."

It occurs to me that the kind of people I like hanging out with, and ultimately the woman I want to be with, will find the meat cake incredibly awesome. The meat cake is an expression of many things that are important to me. For one thing, it's a little subversive. For another, it's made of meat, which I like. It's a little out there, the sort of thing that mainstream America would scratch their head over and wonder "why?" People who do not embrace the act of creating a meat cake probably aren't the sort of people I would want to talk with on a regular basis. The meat cake makes me smile. It's WRONG in a weirdly creative and maybe imprudent way, but that's the way I am. Love me, love the meat cake. Even if you don't like meat, you would have to appreciate the joy that goes into the conception and execution of such an endeavor.

I am not cool enough to own a scooter (I need a garage, dammit) but I just found out that I can RENT THEM locally! And that's exciting...will have to give that a go next time my sis is visiting. Maybe they're like "the poor man's convertible".

I heard there was some kind of scooter cafe in Providence, RI. Will have to check that out too.