No Patience For You: Attack of the Killer Cockapoo

Beware of Dog. No, Seriously Beware.

Look at this face.  Don’t be fooled.  You may see the sweet face of a loving (while “special”) 17 lb cockapoo (a cocker spaniel/toy poodle mix, a designer mutt).  However, this is in fact the face of vicious attack dog named Rodman.  (After Dennis.  I mean I pretty much set this dog up to have issues.  Tsk tsk.)

About a week and a half ago, this sweet-faced puppy bit another resident of our apartment complex.  The circumstances are ridiculous and take too much energy to type out.  But let’s just say that my dog has unique and unresolved behavioral issues (my fault), my roommate wasn’t restraining him as best she could (her fault), and the “victim” reacted to our two dogs in a way that only further agitated them (her fault).  Now, I’m not blaming the victim per se.  Anything my dog does is ultimately my responsibility…  It’s just that when you encounter two obviously agitated dogs (one 80 lbs and the other 17 lbs)  on leashes while their owner/handler is busy picking up poop and the owner asks you to wait a moment while she finishes with the mandatory clean up so that she can better control her dogs, sweeping your agitated chihuahua into your arms and trying to rush by is probably not the best idea.  I’m no dog expert but I’ve heard such reactions teach all of the dogs involved that there is something to fear in their encounter.  And now that she’s actually been bitten, I imagine her belief that her reaction was the best will be strengthened.  Oh well…

Since my roommate was the one with the dogs at the time of the “attack”, I only have her rendition to go by.  But knowing our dogs, I’m sure it happened just as she said.  You see my dog has a “special” reaction to my roommate’s dog’s reaction to new dogs.  Cafe, the 80 lb mutt (from his size and coloring, probably some mix of golden retriever and border collie), loves all (well, most…) dogs.  He’s rarely territorial and is generally excited to meet someone new.  The only problem is his size and sound.  When he’s excited he sounds vicious.  And while he’s fluffy and adorable, he’s still a powerful 80 lb dog.  His harsh bark and intense reaction scare people and some dogs.  As his owner (and surrogate owner), we know he’s not really an aggressive dog.  But it’s sometimes difficult to convince other dog owners of that.  They’re understandably afraid for their safety and the safety of their dogs.

Rodman, my precious angel, has an entirely different and more strange reaction to new dogs.  When by himself, he’s generally indifferent.  Being naturally skittish and mistrusting, he typically avoids all people and dogs he doesn’t know.  (And by doesn’t know, I really mean doesn’t live with.  He doesn’t really like anyone.  So sad.)  However, when he’s with Cafe and another dog enters the equation, he gets jealous and actually bites Cafe.  We’ve never quite understood why and neither of our dog obedience trainers could explain it.  Rodman essentially tells Cafe not to look at another dog…with his teeth.  He’s a jealous little bitch.  And no matter what we do, he’s probably going to bite Cafe.  We’ve managed to calm him down a bit and brace ourselves for the attack but no matter what positive or negative reinforcement we give him, the Rodman-on-Cafe attacks never seem to end.  (And we know he bites hard.  He’s bitten my roommate by accident because she got in the way of him biting his “brother”.  It’s really unfortunate and entirely weird. He literally closes his eyes when he lunges at Cafe.  You can hear his teeth hitting together when he misses.  It’d be funny if his intent wasn’t to inflict pain…)

Anyway, this lady was bitten and rushed off.  Rather than agree to talk to roommate, even to exchange information, she just ran to the office to report the incident…

Now, let me stop here and say something.  While the general tone of this post will probably be that of annoyance, I have no ill will toward this woman or her actions.  Everything she did was justified.  It’s just that my roommate and I think a little differently and probably wouldn’t have reacted exactly the same way.  But then again, you never know.  I’ve never been attached by a vicious cockapoo…

My roommate called to tell me what happened and was leaving for a class when I got home.  We talked briefly but she had to rush off.  It was the first class and she really didn’t want to be late.  No problem.  I’d write a note for the office to explain it was my dog and to offer to provide the office and the “victim” any contact information, vet information and/or shot records.  You see the lady believed Cafe, the larger dog and also my roommate’s dog, was the one who’d bitten her.  While anything’s possible, with his history, we were both pretty confident my dog had been the culprit.  Plus, if the 80 lb dog had bitten her, I’d venture to bet he’d have broken skin.

Low and behold, the “victim” is in the same training program as my roommate.  For the next 6 months, they’ll spend every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday together.  Lovely.  🙂

To make an already unnecessarily verbose story shorter, the “victim” seems to be a genuine (enough) person.  While it’s only been a week, she (says she) only wanted to make sure he was up-to-date on his shots, she wasn’t at any risk for infection, the apartment complex was aware of the incident, and her resulting doctor’s bills were covered.  As the responsible pet owner, I wanted to make sure of all of those things as well (except for maybe the alerting the apartment complex part…).  So I got in touch with her, apologized, provided shot records and wrote her a check for the doctor’s bills (after verification).

At this point, there’s little else I can do.  The victim appears to be uninsured so what might have been a $50 tops visit for a dog bite that didn’t break skin turned into a nearly $200 bill.  Ok, ok.  Luckily, I had the money on hand at the moment.  Covered.  Although I know the apartment complex is aware, since she reported the incident and I left the apology and letter and copies of the vet records she obviously received with the office, they’ve not said anything.  I imagine since they don’t seem to have a policy on the books for this kind of thing, the lady hasn’t said she’s looking to press charges, our pet deposit is paid, the economy is down and our lease is up in 3 months, they might just be looking to sit on this.  (Aside from arguing with me that my dog had been out unleashed with a sweater on.  Now, if I call to admit my dog bit someone and I deny the off leash part, why argue with me?  What seems to be the bigger issue?  Really? Shaking my head…)

Apparently, doctor’s have to report dog bites to animal control.  So my little ball of curly black fur has a case number.  So sad.  Since he’s up to date on his rabies shot and was restrained at the time of the attack, they basically assume it was an outburst and he was defending his territory or owner, not so much viciously attacking.  Animals accused of this type of “attack” are placed on a home quarantine for 10 days.  When the animal control officer came for his first of two visits, my ferocious dog got so nervous he literally just shit in the living room.  Truly fearsome, I tell you.  Anyway, he’s since “passed the test” and has been removed from quarantine.  Oh happy day!

This whole ordeal was a mess but has forced me to reconsider behavioral based training with my dog.  Between constant peeing, shitting and vomiting when strangers enter our apartment, running away from everyone, biting his “brother” when jealous, and now viciously attacking strangers, it might just be time.  Too bad it cost me nearly $200 dollars, a potentially volatile relationship with another apartment complex resident, possible backlash from the complex and now animal control case number.  But despite it all, I love my sweet puppy and will do what I have to.  Plus, it doesn’t hurt that someone’s offered to gift me training classes. 🙂

(In an introductory conversation with the trainer, she’s already suggested puppy prozac.  Oh lord…)

Considering a BEWARE OF DOG sign for her front door,

Jo’van

Since the doctor’s bills took a good chunk of the funds I’d reserved for Christmas presents, please enjoy dogs singing “Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer”

December 27, 2009
Categories: No Patience For You (SIGH), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Quarterlife Crisis: Old Soul (a.k.a. You’re Only 25?)

Again not all that related to the post but a song for my self-described alter ego. Mary J. Blige “Not Gon’ Cry”

(Plus, it’s just a great song.  While I’m sure it may happen, I hope to never write a post where this song is the best fit…)

In addition to being a late bloomer, I’m also what grandmas would call an old soul.  Despite my age and physical appearance, I’m thought to think (awkward but appropriate phrasing) and behave much like that of a more mature woman.  Jokingly, I’ve described myself as a 42-year-old bitter divorcee with two kids.  While I realize there’s nothing overtly comical about that scenario, I had to find a personality that encapsulated the wise-beyond-her-years, guarded heart, mother to all close to her traits I seem to embody.  So a 42-year-old bitter divorcee with two kids it is.  If you have any other suggestions, please let me know.  I realize I actually used that description on a first date.  While that was completely my fault for not really thinking before I spoke, I might just need a new line.  Luckily, he didn’t seem completely turned off.  Haha.  Oh well, too late now.  Plus, I believe he reads my blog…

If you asked any of my family or early teachers, you’d probably hear stories of a 6-year-old frustrating the mess out of you by being able to hold seemingly intelligent conversations with adults.  “Because I said so” would never have sufficed with me.  And please don’t try to give me some half-ass answer to a question.  If there was even the slightest possibility that I might have heard or, worse, read something to the contrary, you were probably in for a “discussion.”  Now, I was no child genius by any means.  I’ve just been told that I listened more than most kids and was able to put abstract things together faster.  (All the more reason for me not to necessarily want children.  I can’t imagine arguing with a 9-year-old me.  I’d probably want to strangle little me.  For the sake of my sanity and possibly the child’s safety, we’d both need the husband/father to be very compassionate and patient.  But that’s an entirely different post…)

My secondary and even post secondary education days weren’t much different.  While I had a great time with my friends, in the back of my mind, there was a feeling of difference from the larger group.  There was no superiority.  Just a sense of “I don’t get it.”  Now, to be clear, I didn’t feel alienated in any way.  When I was 8, I was 8.  When I was 13, I was 13.  There was just things I questioned more than some and less than others, I guess.  While I had a (potentially) violent temper, I spent less time experimenting and screwing up in high school.  I was more of the reserved kid who sat in the background and just watched everyone else do whatever.  (I hope not in a creepy way…)  I wasn’t above getting wasted and sleeping with 4 good guy friends.  (Ok, maybe I was but that’s not the point.  Those were just bad examples.)  They just didn’t sound like good ideas.  I watched people make their idiotic mistakes and took note NOT to do that.

I wasn’t a complete loser.  I made my bad choices and choices mistakes.  But unlike most people my age, I HAD to find ways to justify them.  I couldn’t just accept youthful indifference and regrettable but not all that impactful dumb choices.  In fact, my descriptions probably made me seem more cold and indifferent but that’s again probably an entirely different post.  Let’s just say that I did less living and probably more time judging.  Sounds pretty boring, huh?

Anyway, this mentality of “I know better.  I’m older than that” has carried with me.  Unless we’re in a social setting where I am surrounded by like-minded, like-aged people, it’s very rare that anyone correctly guess my age.  I’ve been aged by 3-8 years.  While I should be offended that anyone think I could possibly be 33 (I AM after all only 25!), I have to take into account two very important factors.

1.) Put simply: Black don’t Crack.  Black women (and men) are lucky to as a whole age well in comparison to other ethnic groups.  (Running second probably to only Asians.  But that’s debatable.)  I may look 33 now because of the way I dress, act, style my hair, apply my makeup, etc.  BUT there is also a high probability that as long as I take care of myself, I could look 33 when I’m 41.  If that’s the case, I’ll take it now.

And 2.) I simply don’t generally act the way people commonly expect 25-year-olds to act.  Yes, I like to go out, dance, sip on something, pretend I have no responsibilities.  BUT I recognize that I prefer to be the calm, observant one in the background.  I like the security of being (or at least appearing) in control of my words, actions and possibly even my destiny.  (Quite prolific actually.  However, please note I added “appearing” in control.  No one can really be in control.  But I’ll be damned if I don’t try.)

I’m not trying to put a negative label on mid-20-somethings but when people are shocked that I’m only 25, I’ve decided to only take that as a good thing.  Granted, they could just be saying I look old but since I disagree, if that’s what they mean, to hell with them and their opinions.  🙂  I’m only embracing the positive.  The older you get, the closer to 19/undergrad-ish 25 sounds.  I get that.  I am, however, no longer on that level.  I grew up quick (seemingly voluntarily) and have no desire to go back.  Although, every now and again, I’ll give in and have a Halloween Ho moment.  I am afterall only 25.  I’m allowed. Haha.

(I’ve got to do a little something every now again just to remind myself I am still young.  If I don’t, I’m afraid I might begin to regress out of rebellion about the time my physical age catches up with my mental.  I’m terrified I could end up one of those Mariah Carey-like (no offense, I really do love her) moms who dress like their teenage daughters.  That would not be a good look.  I can assure you.   Plus, Ricki Lake is the only one I’d want to give me a makeover and she’s off the air…)

In recent months, potential suitors, new “friends”, older, mature female co-workers, old professors/teachers, current friends, old friends and complete strangers have described me as mature, wise, poised, elegant, regal, favoring Michelle Obama, and “looking like someone people should know. A congresswoman perhaps.”  I sure have come a long way from Steve Urkel and you know what?  I’ll take it!

Sitting up a little straighter at her desk (granted, it’s a stability ball so I have little choice but that’s beside the point),

Jo’van

December 22, 2009
Categories: Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Eye of the Beholder: Late Bloomer

Even legends like Phil Collins have off days.  Phil Collins “Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now) Live”

As I’m preparing to head back to Nashville for Christmas, I started reflecting on the type of person I was when I lived there.  I left right after high school and have only returned to visit….

I’m what grandmas would call a bit of a late bloomer.  My youth and young adulthood were spent largely playing catch up with my contemporaries.  Teeth, walking, talking, puberty, a “womanly shape”, whatever the case might have been, I was physically behind.  Having finally caught up, I remember vainly hoping my body would just hurry up.  “Come on.  What’s taking so long?  Grow those, shrink that, fill out here, just do something.”

High school was especially interesting.  I had the personality of a 40-year-old with the body of a 12-year-old boy.  (Maybe not really the boy part but that’s how it feels when you think everyone else looks like a coke bottle and you more closely resemble a ruler.)  That was not exactly a winning combination.  I never really had to worry about the boys falling head over heels.  To be honest, I’m a little thankful for that lack of attention now.  I, at least, never have to deal with losing that level of interest.  I can imagine that change would be even more upsetting than never having it.  But, trust, it sucked then.  The only people who paid any attention were good friends who just seemed to realize I was a female.  Very flattering. 🙂

My mother being the oh-so-sensitive person she can be once told me she’d worried about me getting her families voluptuous tops and my father’s family’s full-figured bottoms.  I may have gotten a bit of the bottom but the top….not so much.  When it became obvious that wasn’t going to be the case, she stopped worrying about fighting the boys off with sticks.  Yes, it’s funny NOW.  But not then.  Thanks, Mom…

In fact, the only curve I seemed to truly develop didn’t really enter the picture until the summer between my sophomore and junior year of college.  I came back that fall semester and my close and close-ish male friends all tried to find ways to tell me or ask where my ass came from. Having no idea what it was they were trying to say to me made the entire experience comical.  I had 4 or 5 normally outspoken guys trying to not offend me but overly curious what I’d been eating that summer.  I’ll never forget that.  Haha.

Anyway, with this delayed overall development, I never quite learned how to take compliments and general interest from the opposite sex based solely on my appearance.  Past middle school and junior high, I never thought of myself as truly ugly.  I could recognize I had traits that could be worked with.  But I never truly felt pretty.  Just somewhere in-between.  Now, I’m not saying that I consider myself to be gorgeous now.  I just recognize that things could be a lot worse for me.  And most importantly, I’m more comfortable with myself.

We always hear it.  People become more comfortable with what God’s given them as they mature.  Sure, there are things we’re never going to like about ourselves.  But we also come to accept that’s just the way things are going to be.  Some people are so stuck on perfection that they find expensive, potentially dangerous ways to “fix” things about themselves.  To be honest, I’m not knocking plastic surgery.  I agree that some people go way overboard but one or two procedures?  Why not?  If it’s that important to you and you are content with the “improvements”, go for it.  Who am I to define your happiness?  However, for myself, I’m simply too lazy to go under the knife to look good.  I’d rather take that money and travel to a far away, exotic land.  Who cares if I’m not beautiful as long as the scenery in the background of my photos is?

I’ve been told and recognize that this new found sense of contentment/comfort is attractive.  Unless you’re pretty enough to excuse all faults, few people are interested in a completely insecure person.  Let me be pleasantly average physically with confidence, a brain and a decent sense of humor.  I’ll be happier with myself.  Anyone that’s willing to take on the challenge that is getting to know me, come on.  I welcome you.  Trust me, a bleeding, guarded heart is an unusual combination.  I like to be different. 🙂

Back in my awkward days, I assumed anyone that showed any interest in me was completely full of shit.  Of course, no one would realistically be interested in me.  Unfortunately, at that age, the young men are just as insecure and not willing to be persistent.  Rejection hurts both ways.  However, as I’ve grown up and been forced to realize I’m not all that bad, I haven’t seemed to outgrow the initial assumption people have an agenda.  Either it’s a test or a trick.  Either way, I’m not interested.  Just let me be the friend.  I like that role and I’m comfortable in it.  Tell me I’m smart.  Tell me I’m funny.  Tell me I have a big heart.  But as soon as you tell me I’m pretty, I will shut you down.  Yes, I realize I have some issues to work on.  I’m just airing them in this post.  Hopefully, one of these days, I’ll be able to write that I took a compliment with no arguments, blushing or downcast eyes.  I’ve got a lot of work to do.  But then again I’ve already come a long way…

Thankful she’s at least outgrown Urkelina,

Jo’van

December 17, 2009
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 2 Comments

Eye of the Beholder: Vanity of Sight

Jimmy Nash “I Can See Clearly Now”

Ahh, to see.  For those who’ve never needed assistance and/or tools to do so clearly, seeing just seems a given.  You open your eyes and the world presents itself to you.  However, if you’ve ever opened your eyes only to see the world out of focus, I feel your pain.  Now, I recognize that having whatever bad eye sight I have is better than having none at all but for the purposes of complaining, I am only comparing those in need of contacts and/or glasses to those who’ve only considered these options to cosmetically change the color of their eyes or to “look smarter.”

I’ve had glasses since age 6.  Yep, I was a scrawny, thumb-sucking, know-it-all first grader with glasses.  (Very little has changed since then sadly…)  At that age, glasses didn’t mean much else than something you had to be careful with because mom would get really upset when you broke them.  Of course, you didn’t understand why.  You just went back to the doctor and got more.  (Ah, the ignorance/innocence of youth.)  I don’t believe I ever really liked my glasses.  I just don’t think they began to bother me until middle school/junior high.

As hormones started to kick in and the pretty girls were identified (for at least the next 10 years), being scrawny and boyish was bad enough.  But I had to wear these thick plastic glasses too?!  They were just setting me up for social failure.  Beauties never wear glasses.  You don’t see singers, actresses or models with glasses unless they’re playing the part of the nerdy and the less attractive.  Glasses were like having braces, being flat-chested and having short hair.  You just didn’t want that.  Glasses did not equal attractive.

When my mother told me I’d have to get braces in 8th grade, I almost cried.  Well, could I at least get contacts before?  The last thing I wanted to happen was to look like a nerdy boy with crooked teeth that needed to be fixed.  Now, of course, I was far from the only one going through this helplessly awkward phase.  But at age 12/13, other people’s awkward phases don’t make you feel better.  Most people don’t seem to adopt the mean “at least I look better than them” mentality until they’re further into their teenage/early 20 years.  Thinking I was just being ridiculous, my mother didn’t want to deal with costs and issues associated with contacts so I ended up not getting them until I started working at Sears my senior year of high school and could afford them myself.

To not avoid the cliché, contacts opened my eyes to a whole new world.  Nothing looked better with contacts than it did with glasses except for my reflection.  There was a sense of beauty (or at least less ugliness) and freedom.  In my clouded, naive teenage brain, glasses made me unattractive.  Contacts at least helped to level the playing field.  I could now really play with makeup, eyeshadows, eyeliners, mascaras.  I could dress up my face.  They didn’t do anything for the acne or other flaws but at least the glasses were finally gone.  And with the braces having been removed the year before, I felt I was starting to look more like a young lady and less like a slightly more feminine Steve Urkel.  (No, seriously.  Urkelina was my nickname on the junior high volleyball team.  At the time, no one could think of Myrtle – the name of Steve’s southern belle cousin who came to visit a few times.)

Fast forward 8 years and not much has changed.  Aside from family and my roommate, it’s rare that anyone see me in my glasses.  (In fact, if you see me in glasses, it generally signals it was a rough morning and will probably not be a very good day so stay of my way as much as possible.  If it’s glasses AND my hair is tied back/wrapped up, stay clear.  I’m probably either sick or exhausted.)  Contacts and the insecurities tied to years of glasses are still very much a part of my identity.  I still believe I look better in contacts and usually have at least a bit of eye makeup on.  Luckily, I don’t really wear the bases, foundations, creams, powders and the like.  Genetics and the dermatologist have helped me maintain relatively clear, consistent skin.  But those eyes are a different story.

While I like to fancy myself rather intelligent, I don’t want to look like a nerd, just maybe sound like one at times.  Over the last two years, I’ve started to reconsider my opinion of glasses and me in them.  As I’m trying to force myself to wear these $400 pair of glasses more often than between my bed and the bathroom where my contacts are in the morning and the bathroom to my bed at night, I still find myself preferring the image of a glasses-less me.  Ideally, I’d love to get lasik surgery.  But last year my optometrist quoted me around $6,000 for the procedure.  Are my eyes and vanity worth six grand?  Yes.  I just don’t have the available funds.  Trust, as soon as I do, I’ll happily toss out my glasses, glasses cases, lens cleaning clothes, lens cleaning spray, contacts, contact cases and cleaning solution bottles, and stare blindly into the light.  Only to open them later seeing the world the way it’s meant to be seen – clearly.  I simply can’t imagine waking up in the morning and being able to see.  It must feel like a miracle.  (And I don’t care how overly dramatic that might sound. 🙂 )

Realizing it’s time to schedule her annual eye exam,

Jo’van

December 13, 2009
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Quarterlife Crisis: Young Professional

Timbaland featuring Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtado “Give It to Me”

At 25 1/2, 3 1/2 years out of school, in the business arena, I am considered a young professional.  As a young professional, I am expected to dress and play the part.  But few people expect me to really know what I’m talking about.  It’s an interesting conundrum.  I’m being paid (entry-level pay, but pay nonetheless) to be a relative expert BUT most people consider me to be a younger/newer version simply regurgitating what someone more seasoned has already said.  And while it’s true that we all learn from the more experienced, that experience is relative to the topic and may be no more than a few months of experience.  In many cases, I may in fact be the expert but my familiarity with pop culture, ability to stay up all night and wrinkle-less face all largely discount anything I have to say.

I realize there’s little to nothing I can do about the perception.  My only options are to play the clueless-under-30 part OR calmly, consistently make my point in a non-defensive way.  The LAST way I want to be perceived is as a temper tantrum throwing 20-something.

But on the flip-side, how do you deal with the insecurities of agreeing sometimes you don’t know what you’re talking about or being asked?  No matter how much you think you know, someone’s always going to know more.  And even worse, someone else is going to know you don’t know.  What do you do then?  You have a handful of options but what I’ve found to work best is simply admitting your ignorance AND asking questions.  Both actions are very important.  Without the questions, you just appear dumb and indifferent.  By doing both, you appear interested.  As much as some people enjoy embarrassing you, more people enjoy telling/teaching you something, acting the expert.

A few suggestions for encouraging your career experts:

1.) Don’t assume to know anything you really don’t.  Deer in the headlights is a dead giveaway you’re trying too hard.  And sometimes signals it may not even be worth explaining to you.

2.) Don’t be afraid to ask questions.  No one’s an expert on everything.  Don’t assume you have to be.  Nobody likes a no-it-all.  Most conversations are teaching lessons.  Be open to being taught.

3.) Ask a few questions you already know the answer to.  After they’ve answered, you can explain it in a different way, making them feel they’ve taught you something AND signaling you’re intelligent enough to view things in different ways.  (This strategy also works well with professors you may be having a hard time with.)

4.) If the conversation is stalling, ask an open-ended “state” or “direction” of the industry question.  Most people love to share their opinions on what’s wrong and how THEY’D fix it.

5.) Follow-up with something intelligent.  Collect a business card (or at least  an email address) and follow-up with next steps, relevant articles, something.  Prove you were paying attention and worth staying in touch with.

Most importantly

6.) Do your job.  Whatever it is, you were hired for a reason.  Someone had faith in your abilities.  Don’t prove them wrong.  Because you have to remember the quality of the people they hire reflects directly on them.

Separately there’s nothing wrong with being young or a professional.  Together, however, they should just mean you’re good but the sky’s your limit.  I’ve got 45 years or so until retirement (if I’m lucky).  I can only hope I have a lot to learn.

Listening to Justin Timberlake while packing my suitcase,

Jo’van

December 10, 2009
Categories: Office Appropriate (Work Life), Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Office Appropriate: Corporate Crushes

Again not completely applicable but I couldn’t resist.  (OK, not applicable at all but it came to mind.)  Belle & Sebastian “Step Into My Office Baby”

It’s a well-known fact that even the mildly talented musicians, artists and dancers make woman swoon.  As much as I’d like to count myself out of this group, I can’t.  John Mayer, Robin Thicke, John Legend, Rob Thomas, Brian McKnight, Usher and the like may be (mildly) talented but they’re not necessarily all that attractive.  (I’ve chosen to go with off the top of my head, relatively current singers/musicians because that’s my world but feel free to fill in the blanks for yourself.)  I wouldn’t go so far as to say any of these men are “ugly” per se.  BUT they all go from “good” to “good Lord” in the eyes of most female fans when they perform (or you listen to their CD, since few artists are actually good live nowadays.  Back in my day…)  Most men, that are not artists, dancers or musicians, find this change annoying.  How can they possibly compete?

The simple answer is: You probably can’t.  But if the situation presents itself, it’s about being passionate about something other people understand.  Put simply “Passion is attractive.”  When a man’s genuinely excited about something he’s created or figured out (as long as it’s not COMPLETELY out of your realm of understanding/agreement), I usually find his description intriguing.  You may not be able to follow every detail, you follow his emotion.  The intrigue may have something to do with hoping he’d one day be that passionate about you but that would be deeply subconscious if at all.  I think it’s more that passion is just attractive.

Musicians, artists, dancers – generally anyone in the creative arts – have it pretty easy.  I mean they still have to be creative and seen as good but their passion is (usually) connected to their craft.  And their crafts are available for mass consumption.  People have deep emotional (and sometimes physical) reactions to visual and auditory stimuli.  Expressive art is only truly expressive once the viewer has connected it to something they understand.  Romantic music has little impact until the listener begins to daydream and/or reminisce.  Dancers are interesting because the audience begins to wish their movements were as powerful and expressive.  It all comes down to feeling something and in that way, the creative arts have it easy.

So what’s the common man to do?  To be perfectly honest, I don’t know.  I have no idea what to tell you.  Yes, I realize I just set this whole comparison up with no resolution but what can I say?  This blog is just a place to dump thoughts.  🙂  I wanted to give a little background to what I’ve coined “Corporate Crushes.”

Over the last few years (since leaving college really), I’ve had the pleasure/obligation of being tasked with relationship building and consulting.  These are vague terms, I understand.  And I intend to keep them that way.  The important thing to note is that part of my job has been to listen and determine how my organization can help.  This required level of listening often lends itself to being exposed to other people’s passions.

(For whatever reason, the majority of the people I encounter are men.  I’m sure a corporate crush could translate to a woman.  But in my (straight) case, I imagine it would be more of a desired mentor than a crush per se.  Anyway….)

As I listen to these men pitch/explain/complain to me, I realize little corporate crushes.  I’m in no way actually attracted to them.  It’s not at all a physical thing.  On the contrary, it’s a simple desire to help them realize their passions, a desire to share their temporary passionate outburst.  Their sincerity is usually heartwarming.  It’s almost like kids with a new toy and business plan.  While I’m sure none of the 35+, C-suite executives would agree with my categorization, it’s just my initial reaction.  I can’t help it.

Corporate crushes aren’t anything to be ashamed of.  I’m not falling head over heels or offering unrealistic expectations.  And the passion has to be backed up by reality.  But if everything falls into place, I walk away thinking “How can I help?  I want to help.”  If they were musicians, I’d walk away in search of the merch table.

Does anyone else experience these temporary “Corporate Crushes”?

Jo’van

December 6, 2009
Categories: Office Appropriate (Work Life), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Romantic Cynic: Seeking Temptation

Not the perfect fit but what can you do?  Maroon 5 featuring Rihanna “If I Never See Your Face Again”

I’ve recently started to try to be more open to dating.  I’m not overly excited by it or just saying yes but self-inflicted perpetual singledom may have reached its limit.  It’s started to get a little old.  I’d have to give a little credit to my roommate/ex-wife and her boyfriend.  I don’t want him or even what they have.  But he/they have caused me to lose my perpetually single buddy.  It’s really no fun to do it alone.  I could find a new lost-in-singledom comrade or, heaven forbid, abandon the title myself.

Against my own advice, I promised a friend (actually several) that I’d start being nicer to potential suitors.  As with most endeavours (possibly) worth taking, there are going to be bumps, hurdles and tragic moments that eventually become great stories.  In a seemingly very short period of time, I’ve re-encountered the assholes, wholly entitled, douche bags, horn dogs, swingers, dirty old men, unbelievably immature, hopelessly awkward and everything in between.  I’m not expecting (or even hoping) to find the perfect man.  For one thing, I have no idea what he looks like but I’m sure it’s the opposite of whatever I could come up with right now.  And second, I’m not even going to pretend I’m ready for anything that grown-up.  But what I am looking for is temptation.

Now, I don’t mean temptation in the completely physical sense (although that’s definitely part of it).  I’m looking to be excited to see you, worry about what I’m going to wear to see you, feel motivated to do my hair, brush my teeth right before I see you, shave my legs, etc.  Some of that may sound ridiculous but it’s not really.  (Or I really am just ridiculous.  What’s the real difference anyway?)  I need to be nervous, not annoyed.  And believe me, the opposite definitely happens.  And how do you gracefully get out of a situation that’s moved toward annoyance?

I recently spent some time with a gentleman who’d crossed what was a line in the sand turning it into a gulf as wide as the Grand Canyon.  Before I get started on this poor soul, I’ve got to be fair.  He’s nice (enough), intelligent, well-educated, attentive (maybe a little too…), fluent in a language I’d love to speak, has a great career in a highly specialized area of surgery, loves to travel, and I’m sure many other things.  He had a lot of the things that I imagine I’d include in a list of ideal traits in a partner.  However, two very important things were missing: the physical and the emotional.

From the outside, it/we probably looked promising.  He was completely “into” me (although I’d be willing to bet that was mostly physical) and he seemed to be able to keep me engaged intellectually.  Sadly, that couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth.  True, he was “interested” but it was nearly impossible to determine if that was just in hopes of something physical or a genuine interest in both.  (Come on.  Let’s just be honest.  You can be as intellectually intrigued as you want to be but some level of physical has to be there to push you to continue.)  I, on the other hand,  wasn’t really “feeling” him and was already put off by the way we met.  You see, we met on Halloween.  I was intoxicated and half-naked (refer to Halloween Ho).  It’s rare that I’m that intoxicated and even more rare that I have that much skin exposed in public outside of pools and beaches.  The fact that I drew his continued interest that evening sent up red flags.  Should I take it as a compliment?  Sure.  But does that mean I care to pursue it?  Not really.  Regardless, he ended up with my phone number and called.  I had to decide if I was going to be a jerk or be a little more open.  After a little mental anguish, I thought “what the hell?”

Unfortunately, this gentleman just came on way too strong and way too physically intimate.  At dinner, the conversation was consistent but a little strained.  We were in a booth and he kept getting closer.  While I imagine he thought it was romantic, getting so close that I can’t comfortably lift my fork to eat is not hot.  I like to eat.  And how am I supposed to just take a bite when the conversation dies or gets awkward?  Get away from me.  I don’t know you.  Stop staring at me.  Don’t trace circles on the inside of my palm.   Can’t you read I’m getting tense and ever so slightly scooting away from you?  Telling me that American women are strange in the way we react to invitations and actions is not going to help your case.  I am American after all.  If you have all this background knowledge on our potential reactions, why feel the need to test your hypothesis on me?  If you decide to stroke my face as I’m tensing up and trying to get away, PLEASE don’t try to stick your finger in my mouth!  (No, I’m not kidding.  He did.)  One, I don’t know where those fingers have been, nor am I in a mood not to care.  Two, seriously?  What the hell are you doing?  If I back away, don’t get more aggressive with your desire to open my jaw.  When I ask you what you’re doing and tell you I’ll bite you if you try that again, don’t assume I’m being playful.  I’m serious.  I’ll aim to draw blood.  Get away from me.

Now, I completely understand that this particular man is not normal.  Whatever’s worked for him in the past is simply not my cup of tea.  And if I had felt anything for him, I might have been more understanding, accepting, thought some of it was cute, or willing to explain what I’d like him to do.  But because I really had no desire to be around him, I was just completely turned off by everything he did.  Yes, I realize that probably sounds mean and maybe somewhat conceited.  I’m not saying that I have all of these wonderful men lining up at my feet.  In fact, the only thing by my feet is my puppy Rodman.  But you know what?  If it’s Rodman or a man who gives me the creeps, I’ll take canine companionship every time.  When you find yourself thinking, “Please don’t try to kiss me.  I’d rather finish the DVD.”, it’s probably time to get out.  Like anyone else who’s tried it, I know it’s just not worth trying to force the attraction.

For you, attraction may not mean the carnal, physical impulse.  It could be a more subdued desire to be around/with that person.  (Hoping that around means with.  I’m not promoting stalking.)  But if you don’t have either desire, you don’t really have anything.  If you’re not finding yourself willing to sacrifice your time (and possibly finances) to “hang out” with this person, just stop now.  More than likely the other person is feeling this type of “connection” and you’re running the risk of leading them on and coming out the jerk/bitch.  Cut if off early and save yourself the excess drama.

A good friend of mine constantly tells me that I have to give people (meaning men) a chance.  The hopeless romantic, she chooses to hope/believe things will work out in the end.  Just have fun.  You never know.  (Except I do.  Or at least I’d like to believe I do.)  The best relationship this friend has been in began without the mutual physical attraction.  In fact, there were a few things about this gentleman that didn’t fit her “list”.  She tells me to give the “not gorgeous” a chance.  ( Now, to be fair, my standards aren’t that outrageous.  They’re just particular.  I can’t tell you what I like but I can tell you when I do.  Anyway…)  Of course, I’m not gorgeous.  As I like to say, I’m pleasantly average.  There are times that I can look really good but I rarely look worse that I do on average.  I’m happy with this happy medium.  With this reality and subsequent mindset, I can’t expect to attract anyone too far out of my self-described category.  Although I’ll say that it is a little easier for men.  If you’re cute, you’re just cute. Sure a haircut, fresh shave, nice clothes, etc, can help your case.  But in the end, what you look like in the yard, at the gym, in the office, at the club doesn’t usually change all that much.  Women, on the other hand, have all of these tools to make us look better (while possibly not real).  But that’s an entirely different post.  Ideas….

The one thing my friend fails to mention is that while her man may not have been her ideal physical type, there was “something about him.”  His personality, their conversations, her reactions to him made her want to be around him.  Sure, when he first kissed her, she may have thought, “Why am I kissing this fill in the blank man?”  But she wasn’t thinking, “I’d rather finish the movie.”  It’s just that simple.

Once again, a resolution-less post.  I just wanted to make the point that temptation is a must.  The type and severity of temptations may vary.  Whether you count your successes by how well you resist or give in is completely up to you.  But if you’re not distracted with a smile on your face no one else understands, it’s probably not worth your time.

Looking forward to being unable to focus,

Jo’van

December 3, 2009
Categories: Romantic Cynic (Love And Lookalikes), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Quarterlife Crisis: THEORetical Weekends

Not completely relevant but I’ve already used “She Works Hard for the Money”.  Enjoy Vanessa Williams’ “Work to Do”

Vodpod videos no longer available.

For nearly 3 1/2 years, I’ve had two jobs.  When I moved to Austin to accept an entry level position in the communications field, I was making less than 30K.  It was a respectable income but not feasible to cover my monthly bills, student loan, credit card debt and new car note.  So two months into the new gig, I went in search of part-time additional income.  In hindsight, making that decision should’ve been difficult but I thought it was only going to be for a year or so.  I was young, had no family, dog or other responsibilities.  I could handle it.

At a friend’s suggestion, I applied for a position with a high-end brand I’d never heard of.  Forgive me, oh fashionable ones, but I’d never heard of Theory.  I never lived in a city that had an independent store and Neiman and Saks were not (and still aren’t) stores I frequent.  I admittedly have a shopping problem.  But (before Theory) I shopped for style, comfort and price, not so much any of that WITH brand name.  Paying $60 for a pair of jeans that fit perfectly was unheard of, let alone $250 for a pair of dress pants.

Despite the high price-point and occassional entitled customer (refer to the Retail Etiquette post), I’ve loved my time at Theory.  I met some wonderful women (and a couple men), found a life outside of my 9-5, made an exta few hundred dollars every month and now my closet (sadly) is now probably 45% Theory.  I have a new appreciation for paying a little (or a lot, if not on sale) more for quality.  Although, I also recognize that not all things expensive are high quality.  Sometimes you just need a Hanes white tee.

Now what am I going to do?  For more than 3 years, I have not had weekends.  I mean they came around every week but I was still working.  Mon-Fri I was at a desk, writing press releases, calling media, monitoring news.  Sat-Sun, I trolled cement floors in a sparse retail store folding, straightening, helping half-naked customers in the fitting rooms and trying on clothes when we were slow.  While I rarely enjoyed a day off, the work was easy and the people were cool.

For the first 6 months, I didn’t do anything.  I was always afraid I’d be tired.  I DID have to work the next day afterall.  I worked every day.  After a while, though, I just gave up.  If I wanted to go out, I just went.  It’s not like I was going to have a day off.  So why not just claim the night and pay the price in the morning?  Plus, I wasn’t alone.  Weekends are weekends.  Since it was retail, the ladies I worked with might have had days off but they weren’t always the weekend.  I can’t even tell you how many times one or more of us came in hungover and/or exhausted.  It just became a running joke.  As long as you were able to do your job, what’s the harm?

Working 7 days a week is not for everyone.  And to be perfectly honest, I can’t say that it was for me.  While in high school, I remember working with a lady who had two jobs.  I thought she was crazy.  I mean I understood the need and/or desire for more money but two jobs just seemed so extreme.  She’d work nights and weekends.  Plus, she was a adult, probably had bills, had a son.  I was 17 and really didn’t understand.  However, after 3 1/2 years, I now get it.  You can do just about anything.  You just have to force yourself to start and treat it as a given in your life.  People always asked me why/how I could do it.  There was never a good answer.  I just did.  You just do.  (Plus, I got used to the additional income.  Over 3 years, my income increased by nearly 40%.  But those extra couple hundred every month were difficult to give up.  I told myself I could pay down my debt faster when in fact, I just maintained my debt and grew my closet. Tsk tsk.)

Since August 2006, 7 days a week was my schedule.  Now, after approaching burnout and finally putting in my notice, I’m officially done.  I clocked out on Sunday for the last time.  While I’m pretty strong and difficult, it was a little sad.  I think the pure exhaustin of the last few months has really caught up with me.  I hugged the ladies goodbye and enjoyed my going away cookie cake but I don’t think it’s completely hit me.  I imagine by February, my emotions will catch up and I’ll really be sad.  Until then, I’ll just have to figure out how to prevent my dog from waking me up on Saturday mornings so I can sleep in past 9 am.

Losing the excuse not to have a life outside of work.  Already missing the paychecks but expecting to spend less money,

Jo’van

December 1, 2009
Categories: Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

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