The Chase

Last night one of my friends, scratch that, sister is the proper word to describe our relation, caught me by surprise at the gym. Monday nights are for football, cue Faith. Monday nights are for running on the treadmill while watching Monday Night Football. Oh, the simple joys of life. So, as I was watching Mr. Brees lead the Saints over the Giants-despite their lack of defense (but that's a whole other subject matter)- I hopped back on next to my sis. We trotted along at 6mph and talked about my dramatic life.

No surprise to her I talked about hitting the books again. "Stop it. That's stupid. Go to law school." Verbatim. Ya, ya, ya. I know, I know. Stop looking at other options. Stop trying to justify choosing nutrition, psychology or even yes, human resources. What I want is to help people. Help people help other people. Someone help me, help!

You see, fate has been playing tricks on me lately. I'm a bartender. I like bartending. Honestly. True, it is far from what I have invested in, but I need to work. I go crazy when I have free time. A preacher, or a retracted preacher, friend of mine tried to mind analyze me once. His brilliance concluded I have issues, therefore I need to consume my life with others so I'm not forced to feed my own needs. Pure genius. Problem, eight years and counting, sans solution. Only my inept craving to help others. This fire shouldn't be put out. What is wrong with wanting to aid others in their quests to kick cancer in the a*@, fight obesity, feed and nourish those lacking, etc....?

Well, lets kill two birds with one stone. Trouble is, fate won't leave me alone. There's also my parents and sister hoping to turn their two cents into a dollar on a daily basis. Apparently a better half will make all my troubles go away. I find it hard to believe a member of the opposite sex labeling themselves as one with my issues and desires will ever end societies view on pharmaceuticals, but fate keeps chucking darts on the bulls-eye I am the only one who can't see on my forehead.

Fine. I give in. For once in my life, I am chasing. Relax. I'm still running. The bane of my existence, I'm sure. I'm a rubber-band; running one way, chasing another. Ya, this is working well.

The past week, I've met two significant individuals who can further my career, received a possible job offer in Orange County and landed a job interview with a company whose sole purpose is to help people help people. Hello. Conclusion: keep running. So what do I do......act like a third grader and pass a note acting out a George Strait song. Perfect.

Where are you now FATE.

I ran today. So outside of the box, I know. Something about watching Around The Horn keeps me going. And going. And going. I was once described as the Energizer Bunny. Shout out to Barry's Bootcamp......oh how I miss thee and the California hills. If only everything in life came to me so easily. In the mere moments of truly stepping outside of my box, I was reminded just how shy men can be. Thank God. It's not just me.

However. I have a huge problem with this recognition. Trust me, I am trying to show empathy. It is taking every bone in my body, even the ones I should ice daily, to not be down-right cold. Seriously, men are suppose to be the chasers. Yes, I sometimes feel I should've been born in the flapper era. This opinion is not solely mine. It is believed by many that men should ask women out. Some even go as far as labeling females in a derogatory fashion if they pursue. Lets save double standards for another night.

Back to the juicy stuff....if I hear one more time from a third party that this guy "is always asking about you" I may force to become bulimic. And I simply can't make myself hurl. Despite numerous attempts while hugging the porcelain God. Great! Someone give this guy a cookie. (Side note, I now am obsessed with baking.)

What is telling everyone but me going to do?

You can't get what you don't ask for. I should take my own advice. Refer to paragraph one....

Fate

I've been told I have commitment issues. Shocking. I'm a runner. I run. This opinion however, lately may just be turning into a fact. Recently I have started to analyze, okay over-analyze, the choices I've made, and continue to make, when it comes to the opposite sex. Maybe it was the move BACK across the country. Maybe it's the date on my birth certificate. Maybe the sight of all my close friends in their white dresses, Facebook profile pictures no longer of them, but their babies, donning new bling on a certain special finger has finally hit me.....

Then again, maybe I'm just bored.

Either way, last night fate left a mark. First, I must divulge a little background. To know me is to know I heart New York City. I'm obsessed with NYC. I spent a few months in the city that never sleeps when I was 20. The best time of my life. Best, is far from the proper word to describe my brief stint. I am one to not regret. You live, you f@*k up, you learn. Sometimes history repeats itself. You move on. But, I'd be lying to say the thought

"I should've stayed in New York"

hasn't crossed my mind on more than one occasion. This voice in my head is dealing with a scratchy throat today. I don't even know his name. Our fates crossed, probably to stir up this previously muffled voice, but a loft in SoHo, a chocolate Lab, Christmas cards, photo albums, dinners, vacations....our life danced in mind. While I was in the city I lived at 302 92nd St. He lives at 307 92nd St. We talked about the streets we walked through. The restaurants we love. The bars we sat at. I couldn't help but think, if I would've stayed....

Would we have met? Where would we be know?

Now, I am a firm believer in the choices we make make us who we are today.

"Everything happens for a reason"

should be tattooed on my forehead. There are no such thing as coincidences. What we do with the feelings we get is up to us. Great. So after years of doing everything possible to be in control, I'm beginning to believe in fate. I just hope it's not too late.

FATE: the universal principle or ultimate agency by which the order of things is presumably prescribed; the decreed cause of events.