Passion of the Writes

Do you have a passion? I am talking real honest-to-goodness passion. Not the fruit or the stuff of dollar store romance novels with the impossibly hairless muscle men on the cover.

While in the car listening to the radio (yes, it was Delilah. Don't make fun, I don't judge YOU.) I heard a woman talking about her passion. I don't recall what it was, nor does it matter. I was instantly envious of the voice on the radio because she was aware of what her passion entailed.

Ask anyone on the Forbes list, they will tell you that how they got there was by finding their passion, and finding a way to get others to pay them to do it. This is a fantastic idea...except one problem. I don't know what my passion is.

Obviously I enjoy writing, but even that, I don't do often enough or well enough to make any kind of living doing it. (I couldn't PAY most people to read my blog!)

SO...What is YOUR passion? How did you discover it? I am interested in suggestions as to how one would go about finding their passion. What if what you're strongly interested in, is not something you're GOOD at doing?

I am interested to hear responses. (And to see if anyone even reads this blog)

And Now For Something Completely Different

Put on your thinking caps kids, because Professor Rose is about to take you on an educational journey. Today's post is a little lengthy, but it's worth reading. Fo sho. This especially means YOU, recent (or even not so recent) high school and college grads.

My American Literature class is generally pointless, reading things many of us read (or...didn't read. Ahem) in junior high and high school. The professor does not give any sort of constructive commentary on any essay that is turned in, only seemingly randomly assigns a point value and several weeks later that surprise randomly assigned grade shows up in my "gradebook".

This plight aside, I did find one pearl of wisdom in an otherwise financially draining pile of crap.

Below is the Robert Bly poem, The Resemblance Between Your Life And A Dog from our assigned reading, and my interpretive essay following that.

Not that anyone cares to read my homework assignment, however, I think that I made some important points for those of you feeling the crush of the quarter-life crisis. If you're not snoring yet, read on:

The Resemblance Between Your Life and a Dog

I never intended to have this life, believe me—
It just happened. You know how dogs turn up
At a farm, and they way but can’t explain.

It’s good if you can accept your life—you’ll notice
Your face has become deranged trying to adjust
To it. Your face thought your life would look

Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.
That was a clear river touched by mountain wind.
Even your parents can’t believe how much you’ve changed.

Sparrows in winter, if you’ve ever held one, all feathers,
Burst out of your hand with a fiery glee.
You see them later in hedges. Teachers praise you,

But you can’t quite get back to the winter sparrow.
Your life is a dog. He’s been hungry for miles,
Doesn’t particularly like you, but gives up, and comes in.

And my response essay:

While I generally try not to make a habit of comparing myself to "man's best friend", if I had to choose a Robert Bly poem to give to a friend (hypothetical or otherwise) I would choose to give to them "The Resemblance Between Your Life and a Dog". I believe this poem really describes the so-called "quarter life crisis" that many young people face in their early twenties. I think it's subconsciously explains the phenomena better than any other way I could describe it myself. This uniquely titled poem may not necessarily have been intended to be interpreted in this manner, however I found that many of the experiences and emotions portrayed in this poem are similar to those experienced in the college and post-college years of my life. I think many people (especially a few friends I can think of) would relate to the line "I never intended to have this life, believe me—It just happened." Myself and several of my friends would agree that the life they are currently leading is not the life we pictured for ourselves in our younger years. This may be for better or for worse, but many of us do not wind up living the life we originally envisioned. The line "sparrows in winter, if you've ever held one, all feathers, burst out of your hand with fiery glee" brings to mind images of high school graduation, students like sparrows all proud and puffy and ready to face the world with their "fiery glee" then later on the effect wears off and real life takes hold. This is disillusioning for many twenty-somethings when life isn't playing out the way it was originally thought or intended. As Bly says, "you can't quite get back to the winter sparrow", meaning to me that no matter what, you will never be as hopeful and innocent as you were at the time. The last lines of the poem describe how eventually we accept our lives for how they are and just go on with it, whether or not it's what we had planned. Bly's ending seems to be one that's disappointing and perhaps even a little depressing or self-loathing. That's not how everyone's story ends however. It is possible to find that your unintended path is actually the one you're meant to be on. So it is with this poem that I would explain to a friend (or perhaps even reaffirm to myself) that even though the path we currently reside on is maybe not what we intended, it should be taken as positively as possible. It has to do with fate. As Bly says in his poem, you don't know how the dog gets to the farm, it just arrives there unexplained. That many times is effective in describing how we wind up on our given path. Much of it has no explanation other than that which is meant to be will be. I think the twenties are a difficult age of much self-exploration, and even self-loathing, and any comforting words of explanation would be much appreciated.

Chicken Fingers for the Single Person's Soul

Dating sucks.


Don't get me wrong, being single is great...relationships are great. I am talking about "actively" dating around. The endless, mind-numbing strings of first dates and blind dates just wear on me quickly. How many times can you talk about where you work (especially if you have a temporary, bullshit job like me), the weather and meaningless chitchat? What's worse is if you have female intuition telling you to RUN for the hills...and you ignore it.


On that note, I have a few complaints with the male species. I don't mean to single out men, because TRUST ME, I know dealing with a woman can be like sitting in a closet with a dozen angry wolverines...but lately some of these "dates" I have been going on have been begging for a kick in the groin. As I talked about in my last post, it seems the consensus amongst men of my generation are not interested in "purchasing the bovine", but merely "procuring the complementary dairy products" as they say. Specifically it seems there's an assumption about us "curvy" ladies, one that we must all be desperate spinsters who are easy prey. Not so my friend. There are many perks to dating a fat girl. Large boobs is just the beginning (unless you are my darling friend Margo, who's so awesome in every other aspect, God couldn't give her jugs in fairness to the rest of us!) Us "voluptuous ladies also tend to be good cooks (never trust a skinny chef!) And most importantly...we obviously don't starve ourselves, so you can bet we won't order a salad and be all pissed off all night cause we're ravenous!

Ok, so...maybe I am taking it a little too far. Sue me. Or don't. The point is, not everyone is a super model. In fact, there's a ridiculous double standard that comes with weight. (and...of course many other things, but thats for another post!) It is possible to be pretty, handsome, and attractive even if you're overweight. Everyone has their own preferences. I've always found bigger guys attractive even when I wasn't heavier myself.


Anyway, the rambling, incoherent point of this post is...Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. Maybe that is something we curvy girls say to make ourselves feel better. Deal with it. Regardless...for anyone who is struggling with their self image like I have for years, I leave you with these wise words. Learn to LOVE yourself. You're all you have. Find your beauty, inside or out and cherish it. If someone doesn't like you for who you are, thats their problem. You can fix fat, or grey hair, wrinkles, cellulite, acne and even ugly. But as Tater Salad himself once said, you can't fix stupid. Not sure where I was going with that...but I don't have to make sense. It's MY blog. So there.

Excuse Me Sir, But I Can See You're Nuts.

Oh the puns.

Seriously though, have you ever met someone who is five kinds of crazy? Usually you first tell yourself that they are just quirky or unique.

"He's just got the CUTEST little habit..."

Then you realize that the person in question makes you want to punch yourself in the groin and poke out your own eyeballs with frustration.

This particular post, we are going to focus on "frustration". As most of you know, (and it shouldn't be a surprise. Yuk yuk yuk) I am currently single and (sorta) looking. Now, this frustration in question is not of my own, but my date from Sunday night.

First date goes FANTASTICALLY well. Sure he's a little quirky, maybe even borderline weird, but super nice, and hey...I like quirky right? So the date ends and he's asked me out a second time...and before the second date has even occurred...a third.

SUPER! Silly me thinks this is great! No problems here...Till the second date which occurred on Sunday. Apparently the "three date rule" has been hastened to TWO dates. This fella was expecting...no...INSISTING that we hit the sheets halfway through date #2. Sorry pal, not happening.

The words that follow this, were of course after he left because "he was tired" and later blamed several things for his odd behavior. #1: My dog ("he's too big to live in my condo so we couldn't live together") #2: My dog again ("He's scary and he humped my leg") and my personal favorite #3: "Well, you're making sex too important. It's frustrating because I want it."

Perhaps I am missing a link in the male logic, but it would seem that HE in fact, is the one making sex too important.

After a lengthy and mature (it's ME of course, would you expect anything less?) conversation online about the no-sex predicament, he stated matter-of-factly that he would "rather be just friends" until I was willing to hop in the sack with him.

I try generally to avoid text-speak but only three letters can possibly sum up this guy:

W-T-F?

So...to all the men out there, let's keep the blinding douchebaggery to a minimum shall we?

And ladies...if you meet one of these inexcusable dipshits, please feel free to punch them right in the junk. At least it will incapacitate them long enough to keep from trying to hump your leg.

"Go sell crazy somewhere else, we're all stocked up here..."

Back in Action

After an extended hiatus I have decided to be back in action with this ever-thrilling blog. Does anyone read this? Probably not, but hey, it keeps me amused and that's all that matters.

Despite the misleading byline, I am no longer a resident of Long Island. As a matter of fact, I am back in the Twin Cities as of last July. Somehow, "Rose and the Cities" just didn't have the same copyright infringing ring to it.

Life has come at me fast the last few months since returning to Minnesota. On February 5th I lost my grandmother, Nana, one of the single most important people in my life. She was more than a grandmother, she was a mother, a confidant and a best friend. Things have been difficult dealing with that, but I am doing my best to do right by her and make her proud, because she was involved in EVERY aspect of my life when she was here with us (as anyone who knew her would agree!) I know that she will continue to make sure that I am on track with my life.

So, if you're not asleep yet, stay tuned, because there's sure to be something interesting lurking in the shadows.