There are few things more irritating in a relationship than having your mate pout, "You should have known!" First they don't care where you eat, then when their chimichanga arrives, you should have known they wanted chow mein.
Experts say there is no room for mind reading in a relationship. Maybe not, but every car salesman or Casanova will tell you it's the nonverbal communication that seals the deal.
It doesn't take a crystal ball; the messages are always being sent. You just have to pay attention to body language to hear them. It will open up a whole new level of communication and give you an edge in the competitive world of dating.
Birds preen, so do we. If you see someone across the room tossing their head or brushing their fingers through their hair, they are preening for you. You'll know it's for you, because it will be accompanied by looks that linger a little long.
Preening might be followed by displaying. Men and women both thrust, wiggle and shimmy to draw attention to key body parts. Women show off all their territory, while men tend to suck in their guts, spread their legs, and focus on lower torso displays. Women are big on licking their lips.
Next comes contact. Is the handshake a two-finger-wimpy or a bone crusher? Clammy or dry? If it's a hug, is it cuddly, or stiff with back pounding like they expect you to cough up a furball?
We'll assume the initial contact got them to level two, or at least wasn't a complete turnoff, and now you're talking. Is he or she standing a little close, square on you, blocking out competition? Accidentally brushing you? Imitating your gestures or language and holding eye contact? Are those lips being licked? All signs of positive engagement. Nice. And flattering.
But is it real? I hate to inject a buzz kill, but while birds might not practice deceit in their mating dance, humans do.
We play some pretty dumb games - think chimichanga vs. chow mein. So listening to yourself is just as important as listening to them.
Pay attention to your gut, it has a savvy mind of it's own. You always want their smile to go all the way to their eyes. Half smiles, or twitches and ticks, should put you on high alert for deceit. Beads of sweat? Generally not a good sign. Nor are wandering eyes, answering their cell phone, or texting while you're talking. Knot in your stomach? Message delivered.
Now is the time to save yourself and your friends a lot of pain by sending a signal of your own. Fold your wings snugly across your lovely torso and break eye contact.
Then fly around and check out a different flock.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Learn to wait for the right moment
"I love the idea of 'the one,' but I actually believe that there isn't a Miss Right. There are 12,000 Miss Rights out there and it's all timing." - Matthew Perry.
Are there 12,000 in Juneau? Highly unlikely. But timing has been on my mind, because it's the spring equinox; it is one of only two days all year when dark and light find balance. Many people feel that is about on a par with how often their relationship strikes that fine balance. Just like the solstice, people in a relationship have those rare, totally aligned days. The rest of the time they are a little off-kilter but they've still got enough magnetic stick to keep 'em rocketing through space together.
I thought about testing Perry's timing theory, but I wouldn't know how to begin. Nevertheless, I did ask a whole lot of paired-up people when they knew their partner was "the one," and what part timing played in their overall hook-up scenario.
There were more than a few who felt "the one" had gotten away through bad timing. Generally because they moved away either because they got work, or they got deported. Or one of them was in a relationship with someone else.
But even when the timing did work out, it wasn't always a sudden, swept-off-their-feet, timing event. For a few people it took time to get to know each other. Or it took time for their lives to align. A few admitted that the hook-up timing corresponded exactly to the two minutes it took for the little pink lines to appear on the pregnancy test stick. It seems you can hurry commitment, but you can't hurry love.
As with all things love, there are as many stories as there are people in the city. Here is a sampling taken in the children's play area at the Mendenhall Mall. One woman said her future husband was "the one" when he picked her up for their first date piloting his own Cessna. One man provided the pregnancy stick story. Another man said he knew his wife was "the one" the moment he laid eyes on her walking her golden retriever.
One friend was introduced by a mutual friend to the love of her life while at The Viper Room in Los Angeles. At the time she was engaged to someone else, and he was just visiting from Boston with a girlfriend back East. For the next three years they asked the mutual friend about each other. Neither of them committed to someone else. Eventually, timing aligned their lives. She moved to Boston for school, and they were reunited, married and have two children.
My aunt in the California wine country has been dating someone she really likes, but he just left for a three-month Ayurvedic head massage course in India, and can't be reached. Their timing may be off, or it may just be slow. But whether or not he is massaging her head 20 years from now - only time will tell.
Happy spring!
Are there 12,000 in Juneau? Highly unlikely. But timing has been on my mind, because it's the spring equinox; it is one of only two days all year when dark and light find balance. Many people feel that is about on a par with how often their relationship strikes that fine balance. Just like the solstice, people in a relationship have those rare, totally aligned days. The rest of the time they are a little off-kilter but they've still got enough magnetic stick to keep 'em rocketing through space together.
I thought about testing Perry's timing theory, but I wouldn't know how to begin. Nevertheless, I did ask a whole lot of paired-up people when they knew their partner was "the one," and what part timing played in their overall hook-up scenario.
There were more than a few who felt "the one" had gotten away through bad timing. Generally because they moved away either because they got work, or they got deported. Or one of them was in a relationship with someone else.
But even when the timing did work out, it wasn't always a sudden, swept-off-their-feet, timing event. For a few people it took time to get to know each other. Or it took time for their lives to align. A few admitted that the hook-up timing corresponded exactly to the two minutes it took for the little pink lines to appear on the pregnancy test stick. It seems you can hurry commitment, but you can't hurry love.
As with all things love, there are as many stories as there are people in the city. Here is a sampling taken in the children's play area at the Mendenhall Mall. One woman said her future husband was "the one" when he picked her up for their first date piloting his own Cessna. One man provided the pregnancy stick story. Another man said he knew his wife was "the one" the moment he laid eyes on her walking her golden retriever.
One friend was introduced by a mutual friend to the love of her life while at The Viper Room in Los Angeles. At the time she was engaged to someone else, and he was just visiting from Boston with a girlfriend back East. For the next three years they asked the mutual friend about each other. Neither of them committed to someone else. Eventually, timing aligned their lives. She moved to Boston for school, and they were reunited, married and have two children.
My aunt in the California wine country has been dating someone she really likes, but he just left for a three-month Ayurvedic head massage course in India, and can't be reached. Their timing may be off, or it may just be slow. But whether or not he is massaging her head 20 years from now - only time will tell.
Happy spring!
Saturday, February 23, 2008
What's your deal?
Like a high-stakes game of strip poker, people can reveal their cards slowly in the world of online dating. You can show your best cards first, while keeping some in the hole.
I have a friend who tried Matchmaker.com. I'll call her "Pink." Pink is a very attractive girl, so she laid down the Queen of Hearts. She posted pictures of herself doing guy-bait things such as fishing in a bikini and hiking in short shorts. For the intellectuals, she revealed her master's degree card.
Her mailbox filled up the first day, and after that she was always on a date - breakfast, lunch and dinner. Every time I talked to her, she was meeting a prospect for a drink. She met chiropractors, cancer survivors, certified public accountants, actors and architects.
On one date, she played her Red Bull and Absolute card. She got so inspired by a live dance performance, she dive-rolled onto the stage to join in. She scared off her date, but she convinced me to join Matchmaker.com for a free 30-day trial period.
When I joined the game, I anted up at my favorite sushi bar three times.
Card deal No. 1 was a 6-foot-5-inch Gap executive wearing a blue suit. He'd played the successful-and-stable card and bored me with thread-count talk over sashimi. I played my humor card. The sushi chef, like a dealer, watched our first date theater as he sliced our fish and chuckled at my stories. Then S&S card and I strolled the promenade under a lunar eclipse. He seemed like a decent hand, but not a winner. We ran into two of my sassiest friends who toyed with him mercilessly. He ran to his car as my friends heckled him. What a bust.
Deal No. 2 impressed me with a stunning photo, which after meeting him I realized must have taken a makeover team and Photoshop to pull off. I gave him a chance though (I was hungry). My sushi chef, Sinse, rolled his eyes as he heard me laugh at my same stupid stories. Photoshop guy fell apart and folded. His cards were so low, he actually cried about his mother at one point. After a disapproving double-eyebrow lift from Sinse, I got the name of Photoshop's photographer and recommended a good therapist.
Deal No. 3 was an actor who loved to break out into Shakespearean monologues. His voice boomed, which hurt Sinse's ears. I passed on his paint cards and decided to sit this one out.
Luckily, I let my trial Matchmaker.com membership expire and eventually booked a ferry ticket to Juneau. Alaska's capital is so small, chances are you will know the entire history of someone you see online. It's kind of like counting cards. You have a pretty good idea when to draw and when to pass.
But everyone is dealt a different hand, so why not have a single friend party? Everyone can bring a friend they aren't dating and shuffle the cards with no pressure.
And Pink? She went "all in." She's having her third child with her husband, who she met while vacationing in Paris. Now that's a royal flush.
I have a friend who tried Matchmaker.com. I'll call her "Pink." Pink is a very attractive girl, so she laid down the Queen of Hearts. She posted pictures of herself doing guy-bait things such as fishing in a bikini and hiking in short shorts. For the intellectuals, she revealed her master's degree card.
Her mailbox filled up the first day, and after that she was always on a date - breakfast, lunch and dinner. Every time I talked to her, she was meeting a prospect for a drink. She met chiropractors, cancer survivors, certified public accountants, actors and architects.
On one date, she played her Red Bull and Absolute card. She got so inspired by a live dance performance, she dive-rolled onto the stage to join in. She scared off her date, but she convinced me to join Matchmaker.com for a free 30-day trial period.
When I joined the game, I anted up at my favorite sushi bar three times.
Card deal No. 1 was a 6-foot-5-inch Gap executive wearing a blue suit. He'd played the successful-and-stable card and bored me with thread-count talk over sashimi. I played my humor card. The sushi chef, like a dealer, watched our first date theater as he sliced our fish and chuckled at my stories. Then S&S card and I strolled the promenade under a lunar eclipse. He seemed like a decent hand, but not a winner. We ran into two of my sassiest friends who toyed with him mercilessly. He ran to his car as my friends heckled him. What a bust.
Deal No. 2 impressed me with a stunning photo, which after meeting him I realized must have taken a makeover team and Photoshop to pull off. I gave him a chance though (I was hungry). My sushi chef, Sinse, rolled his eyes as he heard me laugh at my same stupid stories. Photoshop guy fell apart and folded. His cards were so low, he actually cried about his mother at one point. After a disapproving double-eyebrow lift from Sinse, I got the name of Photoshop's photographer and recommended a good therapist.
Deal No. 3 was an actor who loved to break out into Shakespearean monologues. His voice boomed, which hurt Sinse's ears. I passed on his paint cards and decided to sit this one out.
Luckily, I let my trial Matchmaker.com membership expire and eventually booked a ferry ticket to Juneau. Alaska's capital is so small, chances are you will know the entire history of someone you see online. It's kind of like counting cards. You have a pretty good idea when to draw and when to pass.
But everyone is dealt a different hand, so why not have a single friend party? Everyone can bring a friend they aren't dating and shuffle the cards with no pressure.
And Pink? She went "all in." She's having her third child with her husband, who she met while vacationing in Paris. Now that's a royal flush.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Down the rabbit hole
By Courtney Nelson | Juneau Empire
If you're interested in being in a relationship but haven't had any luck, maybe it's time to take a trip down the rabbit hole. Maybe it's time to forget everything you think you know about love and relationships, and free-fall into the unknown like Alice in Wonderland.
First you'll need someone to lead you down the bunny hole. Find someone you trust. Someone who has what you want. Ask them to give you a few pointers on finding love. Sometimes a gentle but honest assessment from a mentor can push you outside your box.
Here is a case in point:
I went to a birthday party at Shoefly last month for a good friend. It quickly resembled the Mad Hatter's tea party.
I walked in and was handed a beverage. "Drink this," my friend said. Homemade birthday cake followed. "Eat this."
I found myself surrounded by whiskey, wine and wild female hockey players. The doors were closed, the party was private, and we started to try on shoes together.
At first we all gravitated toward practical shoes: brown clogs and rain boots. But then we began to encourage each other to try on more daring shoes. Soon boxes were exploding from the back, shoes with sequins, high-heels, feathers and jewels. Drinks flowed and there was whistling and laughter as we collectively turned into Juneau shoe divas.
How was this possible with icy streets outside? It was so impractical yet felt so good at the same time. The area around the large mirror soon resembled a fun house and a catwalk as we went from frump to fabulous, strutting around in divine design.
The birthday girl found herself a pair of red shoes she wouldn't have picked out on her own, and they went home with her with no hesitation. She wouldn't have bought them on her own, but when she put them on, we told her she had to have them. She walks differently now, with more of a strut.
I have another friend who never dresses up at all. Baggy pants and oversized sweatshirts are her standard wear. One day I approached her in class and pleaded with her to allow me to make her over. She agreed reluctantly, and I got to dress her up like my own Barbie, then took her to a masquerade ball at Jaded.
A masquerade at a masquerade. Red lipstick, a skirt, a sequined black top, her long hair released from its normal ponytail, and a black-feathered mask. Men were swooning the instant she walked in the door. I didn't talk to her all night, but she says she had a great time. She had never seen herself in that light.
So if you've had some love struggles, turn yourself over to a good friend or a smoking caterpillar for direction. See what happens. Try on a different aspect of your persona. See if there's a strut or some swoons lurking in your looking glass.
If you're interested in being in a relationship but haven't had any luck, maybe it's time to take a trip down the rabbit hole. Maybe it's time to forget everything you think you know about love and relationships, and free-fall into the unknown like Alice in Wonderland.
First you'll need someone to lead you down the bunny hole. Find someone you trust. Someone who has what you want. Ask them to give you a few pointers on finding love. Sometimes a gentle but honest assessment from a mentor can push you outside your box.
Here is a case in point:
I went to a birthday party at Shoefly last month for a good friend. It quickly resembled the Mad Hatter's tea party.
I walked in and was handed a beverage. "Drink this," my friend said. Homemade birthday cake followed. "Eat this."
I found myself surrounded by whiskey, wine and wild female hockey players. The doors were closed, the party was private, and we started to try on shoes together.
At first we all gravitated toward practical shoes: brown clogs and rain boots. But then we began to encourage each other to try on more daring shoes. Soon boxes were exploding from the back, shoes with sequins, high-heels, feathers and jewels. Drinks flowed and there was whistling and laughter as we collectively turned into Juneau shoe divas.
How was this possible with icy streets outside? It was so impractical yet felt so good at the same time. The area around the large mirror soon resembled a fun house and a catwalk as we went from frump to fabulous, strutting around in divine design.
The birthday girl found herself a pair of red shoes she wouldn't have picked out on her own, and they went home with her with no hesitation. She wouldn't have bought them on her own, but when she put them on, we told her she had to have them. She walks differently now, with more of a strut.
I have another friend who never dresses up at all. Baggy pants and oversized sweatshirts are her standard wear. One day I approached her in class and pleaded with her to allow me to make her over. She agreed reluctantly, and I got to dress her up like my own Barbie, then took her to a masquerade ball at Jaded.
A masquerade at a masquerade. Red lipstick, a skirt, a sequined black top, her long hair released from its normal ponytail, and a black-feathered mask. Men were swooning the instant she walked in the door. I didn't talk to her all night, but she says she had a great time. She had never seen herself in that light.
So if you've had some love struggles, turn yourself over to a good friend or a smoking caterpillar for direction. See what happens. Try on a different aspect of your persona. See if there's a strut or some swoons lurking in your looking glass.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Winter solstice wishes
Winter solstice wishes
Courtney Nelson
Happily Hitched in the Last Frontier
Courtney Nelson
I'm writing this on the ferry from Sitka, on the winter solstice, a point in time during which we as individuals and communities reflect on our life, and hope for the rebirth of our light.
My family spent the last week memorializing my brother-in-law who died young and unexpectedly. He lived his life in Sitka, among his family, friends and the fishermen of Southeast Alaska. He reflected a life lived in a community.
There is nothing like an untimely death to make one review one's own life. Who would come to my funeral and what would they say about me? Will I die living my life and living my potential, or will I die wanting or waiting for some other life? Will I have met my soul mate?
In November, MSNBC listed the top 10 places in the world to "hook up." Juneau was No. 4 behind Amsterdam, Buenos Aires and a cruise at sea, but ahead of Las Vegas. I love Juneau, but I must admit that's a head scratcher.
I've partied in Las Vegas, and Juneau on the solstice, sliding around in the twilight, bundled in polar fleece and rain boots is no Las Vegas. But like those other cities, Juneau is extreme. That part is true. I suppose we're even like a cruise ship in our isolation.
Juneau has extreme weather cycles and it's expensive to live here. But it's also one of the most beautiful cities in the country. Our quality of life is unique and undeniably good. But living up here, away from "civilization," seems to trigger a massive case of the grass-is-always-greener in us.
Twenty to 30-year-olds are disappearing like Steller sea lions. Alaskans ping-pong back and forth between the Lower 48 and Juneau. They breezily say goodbye as they head for the excitement of commuting at a crawl past endless strip malls and anonymity. But when they realize that their only experience of nature is the picture they put on their iPod, they bounce back.
There are pros and cons to living any place on Earth. Juneau is small, you are visible, and people really know you - the good and the bad. It can be messy and tedious. You have to learn to get along because you belong somewhere. But because Juneau is small, you can make a difference.
In Juneau you don't have to dedicate a whole weekend in death-defying traffic to get in a few ski runs. You can slide over to Eaglecrest or go ice-skating, in a matter of minutes.
We have waterfalls, glaciers, Eagle Beach, Sandy Beach and False Outer Point. We have bonfires, beer and Frisbee dogs. We have nightlife and wildlife, as well as biking, hiking and good theater. We have high speed Internet. We even have an airport with big planes that can carry you out for a few weeks when you think you can't take it anymore.
So my solstice wishes for all of us are old clichés: that we live each day in pursuit of the things that matter to us; that we are content right where we are; that we do the work we love; that the people we love know it; that we all do as John Mayer says, and say what we need to say; and that the returning light brings peace.
And since this is a dating column, I hope you remember that you live in the No. 4 hook-up spot in the world and ask that person out. What are you waiting for?
Courtney Nelson
Happily Hitched in the Last Frontier
Courtney Nelson
I'm writing this on the ferry from Sitka, on the winter solstice, a point in time during which we as individuals and communities reflect on our life, and hope for the rebirth of our light.
My family spent the last week memorializing my brother-in-law who died young and unexpectedly. He lived his life in Sitka, among his family, friends and the fishermen of Southeast Alaska. He reflected a life lived in a community.
There is nothing like an untimely death to make one review one's own life. Who would come to my funeral and what would they say about me? Will I die living my life and living my potential, or will I die wanting or waiting for some other life? Will I have met my soul mate?
In November, MSNBC listed the top 10 places in the world to "hook up." Juneau was No. 4 behind Amsterdam, Buenos Aires and a cruise at sea, but ahead of Las Vegas. I love Juneau, but I must admit that's a head scratcher.
I've partied in Las Vegas, and Juneau on the solstice, sliding around in the twilight, bundled in polar fleece and rain boots is no Las Vegas. But like those other cities, Juneau is extreme. That part is true. I suppose we're even like a cruise ship in our isolation.
Juneau has extreme weather cycles and it's expensive to live here. But it's also one of the most beautiful cities in the country. Our quality of life is unique and undeniably good. But living up here, away from "civilization," seems to trigger a massive case of the grass-is-always-greener in us.
Twenty to 30-year-olds are disappearing like Steller sea lions. Alaskans ping-pong back and forth between the Lower 48 and Juneau. They breezily say goodbye as they head for the excitement of commuting at a crawl past endless strip malls and anonymity. But when they realize that their only experience of nature is the picture they put on their iPod, they bounce back.
There are pros and cons to living any place on Earth. Juneau is small, you are visible, and people really know you - the good and the bad. It can be messy and tedious. You have to learn to get along because you belong somewhere. But because Juneau is small, you can make a difference.
In Juneau you don't have to dedicate a whole weekend in death-defying traffic to get in a few ski runs. You can slide over to Eaglecrest or go ice-skating, in a matter of minutes.
We have waterfalls, glaciers, Eagle Beach, Sandy Beach and False Outer Point. We have bonfires, beer and Frisbee dogs. We have nightlife and wildlife, as well as biking, hiking and good theater. We have high speed Internet. We even have an airport with big planes that can carry you out for a few weeks when you think you can't take it anymore.
So my solstice wishes for all of us are old clichés: that we live each day in pursuit of the things that matter to us; that we are content right where we are; that we do the work we love; that the people we love know it; that we all do as John Mayer says, and say what we need to say; and that the returning light brings peace.
And since this is a dating column, I hope you remember that you live in the No. 4 hook-up spot in the world and ask that person out. What are you waiting for?
Friday, October 26, 2007
STOP THE WAR
Writing this dating column has been difficult for me lately. There’s a continuing situation that makes it hard for me to care if anyone is dating or mating: War.
People are dying while we drink, dine, and obsess about our relationships, or lack of relationships. Both sides are losing their partners and future partners, their parents and children, their eyes and ears, their limbs and sanity. Homes are being leveled, towns and villages destroyed. Both literally by bombs in Iraq and Afghanistan, and figuratively here by loss of life and lucre. We are told it is all done to protect us, to keep us safe. So we can drink, dine, and obsess endlessly about our relationships?
Many service people will come back changed, traumatized by the horrors they’ve experienced, by what they have been required to do. Many marriages will end due to the long separations and constant deployments. If we think we’ve got it bad, people in Iraq are having generations wiped out, men, women and children. This is the sober reality.
I moved here from Los Angeles, a melting pot of different cultures. I have friends from Iraq, and our next target, Iran. My ex-husband is from Syria. There was a time when I was immersed in the language, food, dance and customs of the Middle East. My best friends are belly dancers. They are real people to me. They have hopes and dreams, and dating problems too.
Three days a week I study war. We watch films of war footage, testimony of returned soldiers. If I’m not in class, I’m reading and writing about war. They’re all basically the same, just the faces and places change. I don’t know about you, but the ongoing war is battering my psyche, gaining momentum with each death, and with each billion dollars we spend. I’ve rationalized not writing my concerns by saying a dating column is helping people make love, not war. This justification no longer works for me.
If you believe as I do, that we are all connected and that all humans deserve the chance to love and be loved, then you can’t be passive and apathetic right now. I know it’s a buzz kill, but it needs to be talked about. And what better time to talk about it than in the beginning of a relationship. Afterall, what is the future of a new relationship started now? We’re spending all our money on the war and our economy is tanking. What kind of sunset is new love going to ride off into?
Whether you agree with the cause or not, I think we can all agree that we want the killing to stop. We want our hemorrhaging economy saved. Here’s an idea.
Next time you go on a date with someone, while you’re drinking and dining, discuss ways that you would end the conflict in Iraq if you were a leader. This discussion will probably reveal all you need to know about the person sitting across from you. It might even spark an idea that is actually useful, then you can send it in. Starting a relationship, starting a family, requires the ability to solve problems together. Put your heads together instead of your bodies and see what happens. In the name of life and love, let’s end this thing.
When the war is over, life and love will taste sweeter knowing arms are circling instead of shooting.
People are dying while we drink, dine, and obsess about our relationships, or lack of relationships. Both sides are losing their partners and future partners, their parents and children, their eyes and ears, their limbs and sanity. Homes are being leveled, towns and villages destroyed. Both literally by bombs in Iraq and Afghanistan, and figuratively here by loss of life and lucre. We are told it is all done to protect us, to keep us safe. So we can drink, dine, and obsess endlessly about our relationships?
Many service people will come back changed, traumatized by the horrors they’ve experienced, by what they have been required to do. Many marriages will end due to the long separations and constant deployments. If we think we’ve got it bad, people in Iraq are having generations wiped out, men, women and children. This is the sober reality.
I moved here from Los Angeles, a melting pot of different cultures. I have friends from Iraq, and our next target, Iran. My ex-husband is from Syria. There was a time when I was immersed in the language, food, dance and customs of the Middle East. My best friends are belly dancers. They are real people to me. They have hopes and dreams, and dating problems too.
Three days a week I study war. We watch films of war footage, testimony of returned soldiers. If I’m not in class, I’m reading and writing about war. They’re all basically the same, just the faces and places change. I don’t know about you, but the ongoing war is battering my psyche, gaining momentum with each death, and with each billion dollars we spend. I’ve rationalized not writing my concerns by saying a dating column is helping people make love, not war. This justification no longer works for me.
If you believe as I do, that we are all connected and that all humans deserve the chance to love and be loved, then you can’t be passive and apathetic right now. I know it’s a buzz kill, but it needs to be talked about. And what better time to talk about it than in the beginning of a relationship. Afterall, what is the future of a new relationship started now? We’re spending all our money on the war and our economy is tanking. What kind of sunset is new love going to ride off into?
Whether you agree with the cause or not, I think we can all agree that we want the killing to stop. We want our hemorrhaging economy saved. Here’s an idea.
Next time you go on a date with someone, while you’re drinking and dining, discuss ways that you would end the conflict in Iraq if you were a leader. This discussion will probably reveal all you need to know about the person sitting across from you. It might even spark an idea that is actually useful, then you can send it in. Starting a relationship, starting a family, requires the ability to solve problems together. Put your heads together instead of your bodies and see what happens. In the name of life and love, let’s end this thing.
When the war is over, life and love will taste sweeter knowing arms are circling instead of shooting.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Introduction
I aspire to write and create films to promote positive social change that honor and embrace diversity.
My road so far..
My road so far..
- Gymnastics and swim instructor YMCA
- Canter's bakery worker
- Founded "Cellularwaves" and "Cellular Moves" phone companies with Jackie
- Los Angeles party host helper
- VW salesperson
- Stunt double for Dolly Parton Straight Talk
- Assistant to Wayne Fitzgerald
- Flight crew coordinator Spacecam
- Computer services at the Screen Actors Guild
- ISM Western Regional sales manager
- Assistant to Dolphina
- Marketing coordinator Alaskan Brewing Company
- Sports reporter/ sports page editor Juneau Empire
- Roughhouse Boxing correspondent story 1, story 2, story 3
- Writer/columnist Hooligan
- The Beauty Project
- Urban Runoff in the Santa Monica Bay
- Juneau Recycles
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