Juggling

Sorry for the radio silence, I've been a touch overwhelmed. Yesterday my dear uncle and godfather offered me a part time position as a real estate agent. It's a hell of an offer, seeing that he runs one of the biggest brokerages in Cabo, so why did I feel like he just signed my life away? Perhaps it's because this would be job number 3, and I have no intention of quitting #1 or #2. Part of me wants to bury my head in the sand (conveniently located right outside my door), but mostly I just want to talk about it.

Even after years of sociology describing the different ways men and women handle stress or conflict, I can't seem to rise above the need to just vent, aimlessly. Supposedly, in American culture at least, women tend to feel better about problems by talking about them, going over the events, venting. Men feel better when the problems are getting solved. So you have a situation where a woman comes home and wants to talk about how awful her day was, and her husband (trying to help) starts to tell her what she should do to fix it. She doesn't want instructions, she wants to "talk about it". He might not see the point in just postulating, let's solve things damn it!

Ok, the woman part of me wants to be acknowledged for my effort, someone just tell me that it's pretty cool that I'm not dropping the ball on these three, rather consuming, jobs. I'm juggling them all, and not one of them has complained. My masculine side says, none of these jobs are what you went to school for. Keep only the real estate job, make enough money to start my gender institute, and stop whining.

That would be too simple wouldn't it? I believe it's the same part of me that loves the jerk guys which finds comfort in chaos. This part of me will slowly kill me, but I believe the reasoning goes something like, the highs are higher and the lows are lower when there's more at stake, which is better than melancholy. The more things I have on my plate, the more full I feel, like I'm actually doing something. Which is better? To be partially fulfilled but never devastated? Or to constantly love/hate your life or lover, peaks and valleys included?

We need to talk...

I'm finding how hard it is to choose a location for "a talk". I'm guessing the talk will be about repairing an irreparable relationship. The perfect spot would be in public (to avoid scenes, but in the land of squabbling couples, you never know), it would have food or drinks to fiddle with to avoid eye contact when needed, and it would have an easy escape route.

I'm not quite sure how The Talk was planned, but now there's no avoiding it. I believe I asked a series of difficult questions like, 'are you seeing other people', and 'do you plan to continue seeing other people'. The only answer I got was, 'puedemos hablar de eso en person'. I translated that one loud and clear- We need to talk.

Chicago's sociology of sexuality, albeit a bit wacky, divulged into my generation's dating habits, and apparently The Talk is very common. Hooking up first, then hooking up again, perhaps an actual date, then the talk, then a relationship. It's almost completely backwards from earlier conceptions of dating. So why am I dreading it so much? Maybe it has to do with my complete disillusion with the dating culture in Mexico. I just don't believe a word that comes out of the mens' mouths. My aunt assures me that they really do mean that they love me to pieces and that I am the stars and the moon to them, but that doesn't mean I'm the only one. Hmm. The thing is, as my first sociology professor taught me, relationships don't have to look like the cookie cutter chick flick version of love. I'm very interested in polyamory. But as any poly will tell you, honesty is crucial. Which is why, with much grumbling, I'm walking into this Talk with all 3 verbs that I know in Spanish, prepared to lay it all on the line.

Travel Snob

Meh.

I just received the generous offer to return to Nicaragua... and I said no. Now, that might sound insane, seeing as it would be an adventure to an amazing country, but I'm kind of a snob. I don't know what it is about new places that draws me in the way it does, but once I've been to a place, it's hard for me to go back. The only way I would return, as in the case of Cabo, is if I'm living there. The stupid part is, it's all about sound bites. It's one thing to say, "I've been to Nicaragua", or "I lived in Mexico for 2 years" but beyond that, my interest wanes. I want to go somewhere new. I want to find that new experience, the new place that I'm going to fall in love with.

I don't know what makes some people fall ill with the travel bug, but I have it bad. The idea of buying a house both terrifies and titillates me. On the one hand, I can't imagine anchoring myself to one place. Even leases longer than 3 months make me itch. On the other hand, the idea of making a life for myself sounds so cozy.

It's the same with dogs. I would love a gigantic dog; just a monster of a beast. But how to I justify putting my great dane/ rottweiler mix in the cargo pit of a plane? Someday, I'm going to have to decide if I will settle down or stay nomadic, but for now, I would rather try to negotiate a new vacation location in the least snobby way possible.