Hopeless Cause: Party of One

Question: Why do 83% of ladies who are just about my age have diamond rings in platinum settings on THAT finger?

Answer: Duh, Ava. That's what most people your age DO in their mid-20s, is probably your response.

Well...bite me. And you MIGHT be right. Maybe. Probably. Yeah. Right?

I realize it's "spring" (which I say with much trepidation because I feel like I haven't seen real sun, because tanning beds don't count, in almost a week) and people get engaged around this time of year...right? Does that explain why the rings are so shiny? I don't know these things. OBVIOUSLY.

I don't want to say that I'm panicking but I have been thinking a lot about my lack of relationship status which inevitably leads me to the question, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!" Why can't I just let myself fall into a relationship? What am I holding onto with this whole single gal thing? Well, to be truthful, I love my life. I am very fulfilled with work, friends, projects, alone time, etc. I just don't see how I would fit someone into what I've got going on because at some point, you do have to let some of these freedoms go in order to be in a true partnership with someone else. And THAT I'm not ready to do. 

Am I selfish? Yes.

Am I asking a lot of questions right now? Yes. Just trying to figure all of this out.

I've been subtly aware of these thoughts for some time, but it wasn't until a recent visit from my parents that the self-doubt began to swirl in my mind with more vigor. After a lovely walk, my parents and I sat down outside of Bobtail Ice Cream taking in the passers-by and gearing up for our ice cream purchases. Across the street from us was a VERY attractive dude walking his adorably large chocolate lab. I mean, you could tell this guy was hot from a distance. Now, it should be noted that we were in a neighborhood which Galatea and I consider a gray area in terms of sexual orientation of attractive guys. We're only a few blocks away from Lincoln Park (known for young hot straight yuppies) and Lakeview/Boystown (known for young hot gays). You just can NEVER TELL on Broadway.

So, my mom spots the Hottie With Dog (HWD) and was like, "how about HIM, Ava?" 

I reply, "Ma. He kinda looks gay. I dunno. Maybe he's not. Damn. He's hot."

Dad: "You should talk to him. Find out."

Me: "DAD! I dunnoooooooooooo. Ugh."

Mom: "He's cute! AND he has a dog! Come on!"

Dad: "Yeah, Ave. Oh, here he comes."

Me: Slightly panicked and in AWE of this dude's hotness, trying not to drool, like his dog, I reach out and his doggie comes over for a pet. Such a sweet doggie. 

HWD: "He likes you!"

Me: (Swooning inside). Yeah! Look at him! Awwwww. What's his name?"

There is now a flurry of conversation about the dog, with my parents occasionally chiming in, but the HWD really seems to be chatting us up. Very friendly. To me, a classic gay trait. BUT, a classic FLIRT trait. I'm lost. And, I can't REALLY get my game on with my parents sitting next

 to me on a bench. I mean, come on. 

And so, HWD walks away to enjoy the rest of his day, with his dog, without me. Le sigh. I usher my family into Bobtail so I can eat my feelings. It tastes like chocolate swirled with slight disappointment, sprinkled with longing.  

My dad, always ready with a one-liner that is hilarious but really fucks with your head states, "I guess I'm just going to DIE alone without grandkids!" Awesome. 

And then it hits me. My parents are really freaked out that I'm not in a relationship. I make no sense to them in this regard. They support me in all the things I do, even if they don't understand it, but this is probably difficult for them to grasp. When my mom was my age, she had been married for 3 years and had one year old. I don't this is what my parents expected of me at this point but I bet they would like to see I'm on my way to a relationship of some kind.

Of course this is something I'm GOING to want. But I don't think I'll be able to settle for anything until I feel that pull in my gut, that all consuming giddyness and blindness that makes you feel like you're 15. And that's the best I can do.

Thanks for listening-

lady ava

an open letter:VH1

Dear VH1.
Wow. Where do I even begin? (Breath). Your Sunday night line-up has pretty much changed my life.There. I said it.
From 7:00-11:00 Central Time, I am mesmerized, delighted, in awe and happy. Oh so happy. Chicago winters are tough on me, VH1. They’re cold, harsh, bleak and depressing as fuck. But for 3 hours during the week, I am transported to amazing places and experience pure joy.

First, you bring me “Confessions of a Teen Idol” hosted by the ALWAYS relevant Scott Baio. Former teen idols are brought in to live together and have another shot at fame. These idols are Jeremy Jackson (Baywatch), Chris Atkins (The Blue Lagoon), Jamie Walters (90210 Original), Billy Hufsey (TV’s Fame), Adrian Zmed (TJ Hooker), Eric Nies (the first Real World) and David Chokachi (Baywatch). In each episode, the Idols go to group therapy to face the demons of their former fame and 

demise. 

Hottie boom botties from back in the dizzay

Next, a challenge is presented. Previous episodes include making over their image, auditioning for a commercial, putting on a show for children and auctioning themselves off for charity. All brilliant. They even had to sit and listen as a control group of women, their former target audiences saw the “then” and “now” of each guy and give their honest reactions to them. Not pretty in most cases. At some point in each episode, there is always one guy who can’t handle the pressure of the situation any longer and threatens to leave the show. 

And then comes Baio Ex Machina. Where would ANYONE be without El Baiocito? With a little help from his friend Wayne from The Wonder Years, they help talk whoever isin crisis mode. Ooooohhhhh Baaiiooooooo.

What is truly remarkable about this show is that it isn’t competitive. No one is getting kicked off if they don’t have the best makeover or don’t’ do a good job at the audition. These guys really support and care about want to see each guy succeed. 

Baiolicious

(Cue: awwwwww). It’s actually refreshing to see people act compassionate instead of turning into cutthroat maniacs. (Cue: Next two hours of programming).

At this point, VH1, I’m feeling good, feeling hopeful and already anticipating next week’s soul-searching with former idols. And then comes "Rock of Love Bus With Bret Michaels."

Dear Sweet Baby Jesus Lying in a Manger I love this show beyond most things I’ve encountered in my life (via TV). It all goes back to last fucking miserable winter. My roommate LOVED this show and I just didn’t understand. “Bret Michaels? REALLY?!” I would ponder. 

Bret, you're my hero

My brain just couldn’t get a grasp of this complex question, so I didn’t tune in. And then one day, my curiosity and depression got the best of me and like any good drug, I was hooked. Although the “Bret Michaels? REALLY?!” still plagues me from time to time, I soon realized it’s not about him per se, but the rather the CRazY beyotchs who fight, fuck and drink for this “Rock of Loooooooove.” This show has captivated my brain cells (as in, I have less of them now) and my soul (as in, surely I sold it to the Devil for loving this show so much)

that I have decided to commit a WEEK, yes Loves, a week to all thing Rock of Love. You. Are. WELCOME!

And so, I must wrap up hour 2, VH1 by saying, goddamnit this show has NEVER disappointed me. My jaw always drops, I’m always screaming/laughing (scraughing, if you will) with joy. You just need to know VH1 that Bret and his hos NEVER disappoint. EVER. Amen.
Klassy Ladies

And for the final hour of your fine Sunday shows: "Tool Academy." Vh1, this is reality TV. Period. This is th

e pinnacle. The tops. Years and years of reality competition shows have led to this gem of a miracle of an answer to a prayer of a diamond in a rough. Someone was under the influence of something mystical when they came up with this one.
Here it is, those of ye unsaved by the majesty of this show. THE POWER OF TOOL COMPELLS YOU!

Toooooooooooolssssssss!

Dudes arrive to a show they believe is “Mr. Awesome.” Immediately there is yelling, stripping, grunting, hair spiking, lotioning abs and madness as these men-children prepare to perform for a group of screaming women. They. Are. PUMPED. Meanwhile…their girlfriends (GFs from here on out) watch all of this go down in another room. They witness their boyfriends’ parade in front of, kiss, flirt and grind up on other women. Oh yeah.
The host, some dude with a smug voice, brings the men together after the show. And in walk the GFs. Jaws drop. Eyes lower. “Oh my God”muttered. GFs glare. Oh yeah.
Dudes are informed they are not, in fact, competing to be Mr. Awesome. Nay. Their GFs have enlisted them in the Tool Academy. HUZZAH! Dudes must go through sets of challenges such as Communication, Fidelity, Humility, Maturity, and Bravery, to name a few, in order to become reformed and worthy boyfriends. Oh yeah.
Now, when an Asshole is kicked is expelled from the Tool Academy, the GF has the option of either staying with the loser or leaving his ass. Oh yeah.
The winning couple receives $100,000, chump change in reality show terms as of late but the golden ticket jackpot here. Shit. I’d taken it.
In this moment, I have decided that I will devote a separate entry or two to Le Tool Academy and all it’s glory for there are so many specific moments I must address and simply throwing them in now will not do you justice, VH1.

Congratulations and thank you, VH1. Every week, I look forward to spending my Sundays with you. During these dark days of winter, you fill me with hope and wonder. What else can I say? 

You do good work, son.

All my love and Real Talk-
La Ava

oh9 can suck it

Well, kids. When it rains, it shit storms.
As Galatea mentioned this weekend, my stuff was stolen from the bar this weekend. Mind you, this is a bar I bartend at once a week. I mean, come on. The universe is out to get me or teach me some lesson. I don’t know what it is, but it sure is kicking my ass and taking a toll.

Here is one lesson I know for sure. I have the most amazing friends near and far. Whenever I have been down and out and something shitty happens, friends just scoop me up and work their magic. It’s the kind words, it’s the actions, it’s that feeling that they understand and even more than that, EMPATHIZE with it all. They don’t want me to fall. I am just so full of love because of them. I don’t know if anyone deserves this, but I’m certainly proud and blessed that I’m on the receiving end of it all.

In light of the less than stellar start to 2009, I have decided to really celebrate the Chinese New Year. January 26th. IT. IS. ON. By this time, our Main Man Obama will be in the White House and everything will be rainbows, cupcakes and a better economy. Right? HELL YEAH.

I don’t think I was approaching 2009 with the right mindset, mostly because I find New Years obnoxious, like Valentine’s Day or Sweetest Day. There is just so much hype for a clock to turn to midnight. Of course I understand the “fresh start” and “another year, another chance” aspect of it all. Quite frankly, I hope to spend one New Years at a yoga retreat (preferably in a tropical locale) in meditation when the clock strikes twelve. I know. How “Eat, Pray, Love” of me. But it’s true.
However, in Chicago, you cannot go out ANYWHERE without dropping at least $150 MINIMUM. For one night. Yeah. Ridonkulous. And if you’re in a relationship, the pressure is ON, my brotha. If you do not find the perfect place to ring in the new year with your girlfriend, who just bought a new skanky dress and heels (even if it is 20 degrees out, yeah, she is retarded) then it’s over. Well, it’ll be over after she scores her loot and boo-tay for Valentine’s Day. I’m guessing you’ll be done by February 21st if you fuck up New Years. Welcome to reasons number 26 and 27 of “Why Ava CHOOSES to be Single.” And why go through all of that when you can do a shot of Jameson with your “If We Were Lesbians…” friend, Faith, and share a petit smooch. Followed by looking at each other and saying, “this is bullshit” and chugging a glass of champagne. Word.

The point to my tirade? Because clearly I need to wrap this mess up. Well, I think you can have a fresh start anytime. You don’t need a sparkly ball to drop or confetti to fly for you to make a choice for change in your life. And you don’t need to be in a relationship with one person to be truly happy or to feel truly loved. Right now, I’ll take the love of many. There’s strength in numbers.

So, suck it 09. I’ve got friends, art and the upcoming Year of the Ox on my side!

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

I have survived the holidays. Barely. This past week especially has kicked my ass. I cannot wait to return to my regularly scheduled programming of life. As much as I love to be adventurous and spontaneous, if I don’t have a routine to ground me, I suffer. Finding my way back to my life will be so healthy.

So, I kinda hate 2009. It could be because the last few months of 2008 really rattled me and beat me up. I feel like I’m starting the year off, not from a fresh and hopeful place, but from a space of being drained and uncertain. I’ll help to put this in perspective. This is what I wrote last year about 2008:

So, it's 2008 and right from the start, I can tell this year has a good vibe. I don't know what it is, but I can just FEEL it. A vibe of change, good change, and happiness and joy is so palpable to me. What's most amazing is how I have NO IDEA where this year will take me. Personally, professionally, physically and emotionally, I have NO CLUE! And that's fabulous. I really believe that, in life, there is a delicate balance of things happening the way they're supposed to (fate) along with effort and work in accomplishing tasks and goals. I don't think it's simply enough to sit back and say, "if it'll happen, then it'll happen" and then do nothing. Events and opportunities will go their natural course, if you let go and let them, but setting out to make something happen is positive too. Like I said, it's all about that balance. Personally, there are certain areas of my life that I know will happen the way they're supposed to. But I also won't give up on certain things unless I know they've been accomplished. At this moment, I feel like it's all about the adventure along the way, not the destination, although I can only wish the destination will be bliss.

Ummm, yeah. Not so much this year, huh?! But as Galatea so wisely told me a few months ago, when you bottom out, it can be a beautiful place to be. It’s from HERE one begins again.
I don’t believe in resolutions. I believe you only set yourself up for failure. I have some very specific goals I would like to achieve this year. I feel like I’ve lost track of parts of my life that used to define me, in my best ways. I also want to seize opportunities as they arise. Travel will happen. I want to focus on me. I don’t want to call it a reinvention, because I don’t want to change who I am, but rather get back to my best self. It’s re-prioritizing. This probably all sounds selfish, but I’m 25, single and living in a city. I have to take care of me. (And yes, I realize I have incredible support here and beyond and I’m never REALLY alone. I’m a very lucky gal.) Essentially what I want to get at here, is that I just don’t have any interest in men or relationships right now. I’m done. Such a waste of time right now. I really do have bigger and better things to concentrate on at the moment.
My New Years wish is for health, joy and strength. I wish all of you in Blogland the same and more.

(I also wait with baited breath for Obama to get in that White House! WOOT!)
I really hope to make it Fine in 09.

keepin it real-

ava

ain't NO shame!

The walk of shame, without the shame…
The walk of shame, minus the shame…
The walk of shame, sans shame…

Yup. Each line is funny. And true.

A ten block walk home on a rather mild December day at 9 am can kinda clear the head.
Typically, I would have jumped in a cab and high-tailed it back to the coziness of my home and most important, bed. But today, that wind, the quiet streets and the air told me to pound the pavement the ten blocks home.

I pass windows and catch a glimpse of myself. I don’t look totally like a ho on her way home from a one night stand. No. I prefer to think I’m on way to brunch. Yeah, brunch, assholes. But I do look like a fierce ninja, dressed head to toe black. Or a secret agent. Both are badass and not to be messed with.

For a few steps, it smells like New York. I am suddenly transported there and wonder what it would be like to live there. I really need to get back there.

There is definitely one specific spot in Chicago that reminds me of The Last Guy. And it pisses me off. Sharing a spot in your city with someone and then they make it their own spot in their own unique way can just make a girl want to do a ninja kick in a fit of rage. Alas, energy and fading memories keep this ninja chick at bay.

Pass by a great little card shop. Begin counting the number of cards I will need to buy and the awesome people who will be receiving one filled with my loving words for Christmas. How is it almost Christmas already?

I am kinda loving the brief glances of slight judgment directed at me. I giggle to myself.

I do not have my ipod. Walking without it is bizarre, and yet refreshing.

Mind is feeling clear.

Holy crap. At every intersection, except the one I’m at, I’ve been able to just walk on through. Nice. That’s ninja.

The homestretch is upon me. It’s so nice to reach your neighborhood and to feel like you are a part of the street.

I send a brilliant text. Why must texts be so brief? I really cannot express my stunning wit within the confines of a damn text. Ah, yes. But it is these restrictions that beget greatness. Drink that one in. Drink. It. IN. On the house.

And my front door. And my staircase. And my home. Dorothy had it right, there’s no place like home. Even if it took a shameless walk to get there. No trip to Oz here!

To my hos and haters, much love. I hope you had a rocking weekend.

Lurves-
Ava

oh the angst

i find that there are times when it seems

like only billie holiday understands.

that's all for now. 

but trust me, there's more going on in this brain of mine.

stay tuned and hopefully the ugh will pass.

fightin the good fight-

ave-dawg

all aloney on my owny

I’m struggling with something. Deep breathe, because that was a lot to admit and I haven’t begun to explain myself. Another deep breath, here it goes.

For several months now, I have savored my single gal status. As a matter of fact, I fiercely defended it. Ok, maybe I held very strong feelings for someone who could seemingly not return the favor as I do deserve more, and who did not live in the same city. That made maintaining my single stature easy.

Why do I love my singleness so much? Well, for me it’s not a matter of whoring around and such. (Although random makeouts rock, right?) No, my single power comes from being alone and doing whatever I want whenever I want. Since I was a little girl playing Barbies in the basement, I have never really had a problem with being alone. My mind and the activities that I enjoy keep me plenty occupied. As an adult, (and I use the term loosely) I have discovered that this alone time is what re-charges me, centers me and keeps me sane. That isn’t to say that loneliness doesn’t occasionally set in and really sting, but it’s in those almost scary moments of loneliness that I seem to embrace and find some kind of strength. Hey, it’s what I tell myself and it helps. I’m really not a social butterfly although I do thrive when receiving attention.

Oh yeah. I'm a full on contradiction. Now comes the conflict.

How long can I really maintain this single/alone lady thing? What’s it going to take for me to compromise my alone time and my agenda? How much will I have to really compromise? Who will want to put up with all of this (read: ME)?!

The past month has been a bit brutal for me. At some point, I threw up my hands and the white flag saying, “I CAN’T TO THIS ALONE ANYMORE! I WANT SOMEONE TO TAKE CARE OF ME, DAMNIT!” As I stated in my previous post, I have recently discovered that I am not really alone. I have an abundance of support and love, which constantly stuns and delights me. But I think I am coming to realize that perhaps I desire another kind of support. The kind that mostly a (gulp) “boyfriend” provides. 

I might be a bit lightheaded after writing that last sentence and using the word boyfriend. Huh. 

Well, maybe I am ok on my own. No need to rush anything. I’m ok, I’m ok, I’m ok.