Lack of Concentration and Peanut Butter Toast...

This blog needs a better title. I am sitting here on a perfect lazy Sunday, with tons to do but not wanting to do any of it. The sun is shining and I am not able to concentrate on anything, my mind is elsewhere. I have a million things to do: Chop wood, write a really meaningful blog, read one of the hundred books I have but not yet read. If I was really ambitious I would paint the bathroom and finish the tile that I have been putting off for months and months. None of it feels right. I don't want to be doing any of it but I don't know what it is I want to do. I want to be doing something else with someone else. This is not something I can put into words. I hate it when I don't have the right words.

My house is cold. My feet are cold and the tip of my nose is cold. So now I have a fire in the wood stove. This should at least help the cold nose.

Maybe it's that I have nothing "important" to do. No blind dates to go on or funerals to attend to. Nothing important. I am restless.

I love peanut butter toast. It is warm and good. It is comforting. I am now full of peanut butter toast and milk, and still I am restless. Not everything needs to be important I guess. Not everyday needs to be groundbreaking.

The sun is now going down over the island and it will be dark soon and I am still restless. After church I went to the park. It was beautiful and cold. I enjoyed an egg nog latte and sat with coworkers who happened to be there. They left and I began to read, and then my restlessness started. Since I wasn't getting anything done so I went home. To do nothing... and be restless.

I want something to come along... It has taken 2 hours to write 350 words.

The bay looks nice with the light shining on the water. It is peaceful.

Actually, It is not what I am doing it is that I am alone. I don't think that I want to be alone, but I have spent all day alone and I didn't want to be alone. It is not that I wanted to be with just anyone. I spend each day with people... but not the people I choose. They are not bad people, in fact some of them are people I care about, but not just who I wanted to spend the day with.

The one who I wanted to spend the day with was not around. I don't know why I to be around her. I don't really even know her. I wonder if I have her attention? I wonder if she wants to be around me too?

Sitting here is no fun... Waiting is no fun... Wanting to make a move and not getting the chance is no fun.. I want her to like me or to tell me that she doesn't so I can get over it and move on....

I hate being ignored. And not having contact is making me feel ignored and that makes me feel restless. So now I found my restlessness. We'll see what happens... I feel better, it must be the toast.

Buying Flowers

Something I recently discovered about myself is that I like buying flowers. There is something about buying flowers for a girl that makes my pulse race and the adrenaline run. In part, there is the thrill of putting yourself out there. It is the risk of taking a risk. This is especially true in the beginning stages of the relationship. The flowers could make her day and for a few minutes you get to be a hero. Or the well intentioned gesture could trigger her to shut you down as you attempt to cross that ominous “just friends line” from which there is no return. The interesting thing about flowers is that no matter what the response they will get a response. It is just uncommon today to get or give flowers. It is in the rarity of the gesture that the value is communicated.

In our culture giving or getting flowers tends to bring (and is probably designed to bring) an emotional response. Think about when we buy flowers for people: Weddings, birthdays, funerals and the big one when we are trying to get a girl to notice us as someone more than that guy I know from that one place. It is when we are trying to make an emotional connection to someone that the flowers come into play.

So, today as I stood in the overly crowded Haggen Floral Shop trying to determine which flower would communicate the right thoughts (of I like you and I want you to like me but I don’t want to freak you out. This is a puzzle that can only be solved with help) the thought that motivated me was: “I think you are special and I want you to know it.” I want to know that the action of buying flowers will result in the reaction of her feeling appreciated and noticed. Not to mention I want her to notice me too and to get the above mentioned response. From a logical standpoint there is no real use to cut flowers. They cost a lot and die within a week. If we wanted to be logical a packet of seeds from a food bearing plant and a pot of dirt would be more useful. Buying flowers is not about useful, it is about extravagant. I think that flowers show her that she is costly, that in perusing her we are willing to pay the price.

Part of the battle of manhood (see my blog: to the rescue) is to save the princess and win her heart. Now that we have moved beyond the cave man days of bashing a girl on the head with a club and dragging her off into the sunset. We must peruse her... be creative and risky in the approach and let her know that she is beautiful, special and lovely. Pay the price to be noticed by her and to win her affection. To let her know that she is safe and protected and that she means something to us. Then we will have the chance to ride off into to the sunset with the bride and not a conquest. Flowers are just one way to say it. Nothing makes a guy feel more like a man then buying flowers for the girl he perusing... Something tells me the chase never ends.