ON THE ART OF DATING

THIS IS HOW WE DO IT
I must confess I didn’t understand the first time I heard it. One of my best friends had just moved to Manhattan from his native Germany. In no time he had learned his way around the city, venturing through all of the burrows, New Jersey, and on occasion up to the Hamptons. After a few months he phoned me to describe his first “American” date. I had to ask for clarity, “What do you mean American date?” He explained that Europeans don’t date like Americans when they are getting to know one another romantically. “What?” I was perplexed by this revelation.

I was no stranger to the idea of divergent practices in different cultures. My father, after all, was not born in the U.S.A. and we had lived overseas for several years. Certainly, in countries where arranged marriages are the norm, there is not the concept of dating, but everyone in western society I imagined went on dates like we do here in North America. Apparently, this was not the case, so I asked him to explain exactly what he meant. The conversation was of particular interest to me, especially since my most intimate relationships have all been with Europeans.

Here in the U.S., we learn dating etiquette that reads something like the following: A man arrives to pick up his date, walks her to the car, opens the door, pulls out her chair, pays for dinner, returns her to her domicile and if he’s lucky, he kisses her goodnight at the front door. This is, of course, on the first date. If all goes well there may be subsequent dates. With each additional one, the probability of emotional and physical intimacy rises, at least in theory.

To use the popular baseball metaphor, when a man gets lucky, he slides through the bases, which Wikipedia defines as follows:
• First base – mouth to mouth kissing, especially open mouth ("French") kissing involving the tongue.
• Second base – aggressive stimulation between the neck and waist, usually shirtless or under the shirt.
• Third base – manual or oral stimulation of the genitalia.
• Fourth base (Home run) – the act of penetrative intercourse.

GETTING TO KNOW YOU, GETTING TO KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU
So, I asked my friend to explain, “If you don’t "date" in Europe, how do you get to know one another?” In some ways, the answer was too simple for me to grasp. He said if you meet someone you’re interested in romantically, you simply invite that person out. It wouldn’t necessarily be considered a date, but more so an outing. If, by chance, you enjoyed spending time with that person, it would only stand to reason that you continue going out. There is no protocol about showing up and returning someone to their front door. There is no tally of how many outings have been made. There’s just a mutual understanding between two people who enjoy spending time together.

As I mentioned, I have always clicked better romantically with Europeans. In the beginning I didn’t know why. I suspected it might have been because I lived overseas during my adolescence. For me, the rules of “American dating” always felt rigid and constraining. I’m sure we have all discussed aspects of dating etiquette. A few popular topics typically include whether or not it’s okay to see someone every day when first beginning to date, as this could be construed as needy. Do both parties agree how to proceed with intimacy? Should second base be on the third date and sex on the tenth? The whole construct becomes a game of figuring out whether or not you and another person are on the same page.

TEARING DOWN THE WALLS
Another close friend of mine was dating long distance and considered a week long visit to be one date. I still remember debating this with him. If dinner and a movie are regarded as a single date, certainly a 7-day visit counts as more than one. The conversation made me realize something I had never paid that much attention to. Many of us use the concept of dating as a barrier rather than a bridge for getting to know one another. “I don’t need to tell him (or her) that I’ll be out of town that week, we’ve only been on a few dates.” “No, I didn’t invite her (or him) to the party, we haven’t gotten to that point yet.” When “dating” is used to hold people at bay, how can you ever get closer to one another?

I suspect this is the reason my friend wanted to declare a week long stay as one date. If the visit counted as seven, there would be a higher expectation of shared intimacy in his mind, something he likely wasn’t ready for. But this is the thing, at the end of the day, isn’t dating a simple construct of our minds? If there is a true dating protocol, it only exists between you and the person you are dating. In a different relationship, the protocol would likely have to change, as a new person would require a new and separate agreement about how things work. When we are truly ready to make ourselves emotionally available, only then will we begin to repeal the rules (and walls) we’ve constructed to keep ourselves safe.

ABOUT K. L. COLLINS
I am an author and a college professor of screenwriting for both television and film. To learn more about my newest sci-fi, fantasy, adventure novel, "The Unveiling: 1.0," please visit: TheUnveilingSeries.com.

The Authentic You!

Merriam Webster’s dictionary defines “authentic” in several ways. The two variations that made the most sense for today’s post are the following:

1: not false or imitation: real, actual
2: true to one's own personality, spirit, or character

During the last nine months, a few friends and I have talked extensively about living “authentic lives.” But what makes someone’s life authentic? If we go back to Webster’s definition, an authentic life would be one without pretense and/or falsehoods. As we all know, this is not always so easy to accomplish, as it requires incredible self-assuredness.

I still remember quite vividly the ten-day meditation retreat that I attended nearly three years ago. When you sign up for this retreat you are asked to abide by several Buddhist tenets, some of which include not to lie, cheat or steal. The actual retreat was silent, which pretty much takes care of the pledge not to lie. It is only in the early part of day-ten that everyone is allowed to converse. Believe me, it is surreal spending nine and a half days meditating, eating, bathing and sleeping beside 80 people you haven’t spoken a word to. I certainly learned how judgmental I can be, as I formed opinions on people to whom I hadn’t spoken a single word. On the final day, when I chatted with fellow meditators, I discovered they were nothing like I imagined. The man I assumed was a family man with a wife and two daughters was gay. I was certain the young twenty-something guy with movie star good looks was a snob, but he ended up being a circus performer (a la Cirque du Soleil) who was actually quite charming.

From the very instant that we began to introduce ourselves I quickly realized I was filtering what I wanted people to know about me. Only months before I had been laid off from my job, a circumstance I had never experienced before. I remember being exceptionally sensitive about discussing it. In essence, I was providing slightly altered versions of my truth. This behavior, to say the least, was not authentic. And while I consider myself to be an honest person, I would likely not have followed that particular tenet had we been allowed to speak. So again, how do we get to an authentic life? Start by throwing out the script you believe you were given. For most of us this script reads something like the following:

1. Elementary School
2. Middle School (Junior High)
3. High School
4. College [at least undergraduate, possibly more]
5. Get a job
6. Get married
7. Have children
8. Retirement

While many people have become and continue to be successful with the above scenario, it is not for everyone. Steve Jobs skipped the fourth step while Brangelina skipped the sixth. To become our authentic selves we all need to consider what variations of the above script are appropriate for our own individual lives. Keep in mind this is not an excuse to throw off your responsibilities. Our true selves will only emerge from honesty and dedication. Our true selves will always have a sense of purpose and will commit to hard work toward a specific set of goals.

Just as the caterpillar enters its cocoon to emerge as its more beautiful butterfly self, we must find a safe place to figure out who we really are. As 2012 begins, take a moment to sit quietly. Think, reflect, and meditate. Wait for the velocity of your own thoughts to slow down. Listen to that inner voice. Do this repeatedly and allow your own metamorphosis to begin.

The reason casting agents are in business is because they have a knack for matching specific actors to suitable roles. You must serve as your own casting director to arrive at the real you. If the script outlined above is suitable then play that role. If it isn’t write your own story because only you can answer what authentic means in your life. Happy 2012 to all!

TO LEARN MORE OR TO READ AN EXCERPT
of my sci-fi/fantasy/adventure novel, “The Unveiling: 1.0,” please visit TheUnveilingSeries.com.

Gray Areas

Merriam Webster defines the word “Tenet” as follows:

“A principle, belief, or doctrine generally held to be true; especially one held in common by members of an organization, movement, or profession.”

The qualifying clause, “especially one held in common by members of an organization, movement, or profession” suggests that principles and beliefs can vary between communities. Of course we all know this to be true but there are also fixed, universal tenets that translate across cultures and communities. They are not beliefs so much as they are universal laws of nature that most of us clearly see as black and white. A few examples of such universal laws are stated in almost every religion. The Ten Commandments of the Bible, the Precepts of Buddhism and the Koran all speak reminders that we should neither lie, cheat, steal or kill, just to name a few.

But there are also more confusing universal truths that aren’t so clearly delineated. Instead they are gray areas that many of us choose to interpret (often erroneously) at our own discretion. For some reason, Spike Lee’s “Do The Right Thing” comes to mind. It was the first time a movie confronted me with a conflict where I respected both sides of two dueling point of views. For those of you who didn’t see the movie, the central story involves an Italian owned pizzeria in a predominately African-American neighborhood. Because the pizzeria’s livelihood depends largely on its African-American clientele, there are customers who want African-Americans represented on the owner’s renowned “Wall of Fame” where photos of renowned Italians are prominently displayed.

In my mind, the customers’ request was well within reason. But the owner, as sole proprietor felt entitled to arrange his “Wall of Fame” as he saw fit, which was also quite reasonable. Of course, major conflict ensued ending in the unfortunate death of a central character. So, who was right and what could these characters have done differently in order to “Do The Right Thing?” Today, I realize the answer is quite simple. They could both have chosen to respect their fellow man. Had the African-American character chosen to respect the pizzeria owner’s prerogative to arrange his wall of photos as he pleased, or had the pizzeria owner chosen to respect the clientele that allowed his business to thrive, there would have been no problem.

Today, it seems many universal laws have fallen victim to legislation and special interests. As a society, we need to do better at fine-tuning our internal moral compasses, with an understanding not only of the black and white areas, but of the gray ones as well. All too often, I have heard, “it’s not against the law” as if this were carte blanche to do the wrong thing. Because it isn’t illegal, does this suggest it isn’t wrong or unethical? In theory, laws are written to regulate people who are otherwise incapable of regulating themselves. It is up to each of us to do better in the gray areas, not only to discern right from wrong but also to then regulate ourselves appropriately. We do ourselves a disservice when we dedicate this responsibility to lawmakers who often don’t understand the difference themselves.

I'm Baaaack!

If I mull it over it’s hard to believe I haven’t blogged in nearly a year (how is this possible?).

For months now I have been telling myself I need to at least write an entry explaining why I’ve been away. While it was not intended I suppose there’s a peculiar irony in the title of my most recent entry from December of last year -- “To See A Disappearing Act” -- especially since immediately after I proceeded to disappear.

So, here’s what’s going on... About two years ago, I started my first novel. Writing a book is something I hadn’t contemplated or attempted since I always endeavored to write screenplays or teleplays. To be honest, in my innocence (or dare I say ignorance?) I didn’t really change my story development process. Probably, this is why some of my preliminary readers have said, “It reads like a movie.”

When I finally started the first chapter, I have to admit it was liberating. Writing screenplays is extremely rigid since you can only put on the page what you expect your audience to see on the screen. Such rules do not apply in books where you can more easily jump back and forth in time or delve into a character’s inner thoughts.

About a year ago, I laid down my first draft (with quite a bit of blood, sweat and tears). Some days I would write and believe my work was brilliant. But there were also dreadful days when I composed chapters that really weren’t working at all. My only solace was that I had something concrete. A sculptor must start with a large block of stone and craft it into something intentional like Michelangelo’s David or the Pieta. When I completed my first draft I was ecstatic to have something on paper. In reality all I had was a block of stone. I had this mass of words and chapters -- all of it put together into a huge mass of something that would eventually, hopefully become my book. But it wasn’t a book yet. During this phase I was still blogging quite regularly. In this last year, however, while I have been absent, I have been chipping away at that first draft, working to create what I hope will be an enjoyable, perhaps informative story.

In any event, this is the reason for my absence. While I haven’t been blogging, I have been writing. In the next weeks and months, I hope to share more thoughts and experiences on this journey we call life. And I’ll certainly keep you posted on my progress with the book (and my search for a publisher).... Until then, HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!!!

TO SEE A DISAPPEARING ACT

It was already 10 pm and I was fighting sleep. I knew I wouldn’t last more than an hour in the dead of the night’s deep cold so I hesitantly set the alarm on my phone for 2 am. Within minutes I was asleep and then the alarm sounded jarring me from my slumber. I felt groggy and disoriented fumbling with my phone whose only alarm sound was shrill and grating. My house was chilly, as I’d lowered the heat before getting cozy beneath my blankets. I contemplated returning to sleep and abandoning my mission to witness the full lunar eclipse of this winter solstice but then I considered the rarity of the event and dragged myself from bed. I slipped on some shoes and my warmest down jacket then descended the stairs.

IT'S SHOWTIME, FOLKS!
At 2 am I didn’t know where I would find the best view of the moon so I flipped a mental coin and decided to start with my back patio. Once outside the cold air nipped at my hands and quickly wrapped around my legs, which were badly insulated with thin pajamas. The hooded jacket was efficient and my torso and head felt as if I were still beneath my sheets. I looked to the left and right, but the moon was nowhere to be found. Just as I was resigning to move to the front of the house, I looked directly overhead and there it was the full moon shining brightly like a huge pendant lamp dangling in the sky. The lunar eclipse had begun and a third of the moon was already obscured. I felt terribly lucky. There was a huge cloud bank in the east, but the skies over my house were clear allowing a perfect view of the occurrence.

After several minutes of watching the eclipse my neck began to hurt. I realized the moon’s coordinates had necessitated me craning my neck into an extremely uncomfortable position. To gain relief I bent forward and touched my toes allowing gravity to soothe my fatigued muscles. About fifteen minutes in, new clouds began arriving, thin and mist-like, traveling rapidly across the skies. Fortunately, I was still able to see the moon like a lighthouse beacon illuminating the skies through a veil of fog. I was in awe of how fast the clouds were moving especially since I didn’t feel a breeze. Every so often, an opening clearly revealed the moon’s disappearing act.

About thirty minutes in the moon was seventy-five percent obscured, but the cumulus clouds were growing thicker. For moments the moon seemed to blink out as if the eclipse had completed but then its brightness would return. I wondered if the clouds were causing my eyes to play tricks on me. And then suddenly, the swift moving clouds slowed to a crawl as if the moon had demanded their attention. For nearly a half hour they had been traveling east, but they were changing course inching more toward the south. I waited patiently for an opening so I could witness the moon slipping on its veil like a skilled belly dancer. Finally, an aperture appeared and the eclipse, nearly complete, had transformed the white, shining moon almost as if a crimson filter had been slipped over its entirety. The various shades of red dazzled me for a fleeting moment until the moon vanished again behind the clouds. I patiently waited but the moon or the clouds or both had decided to tease with their show. For only seconds at a time I could catch a glimpse. I had expected the moon to vanish during the eclipse as if hiding behind some black curtain of night, but this was not the case. Upon the eclipse’s completion the moon had certainly dimmed but its prominence was hardly diminished as it shined like a red ruby hanging in the sky.

THE FINAL ACT
By now I had been standing in the cold for nearly forty minutes at which point the blanket of clouds closed in like the final curtain call at a play. I massaged my sore neck and slipped back into the house, which now seemed warm and cozy. I have to admit it was difficult getting back to sleep. I awoke tired the next morning but was somehow energized by the show I’d witnessed in the cold of the night.

I WROTE A BOOK!
To learn more about Volume One of my Sci-Fi/Fantasy/
Action-adventure series, “The Unveiling,”
please visit the website at TheUnveilingSeries.com.

The Road To Tennessee - Part III

After weeks of pushing to prepare for my move I paused, allowing myself a day to work on my book. Feeling as if I were treating myself to a leisurely day I drove to one of my preferred coffee shops to order lunch. After eating I began the task of banging out pages only to be struck later in the day by mild stomach cramps. It wasn’t like food poisoning but the ache in my stomach was a definite nuisance. For nearly an hour I struggled to continue writing but then grew fearful of pushing myself too hard. Not wanting to sink any further into the quicksand of my fatigue I gathered my things, hurried to my car and drove home. It was my intention to unwind and have dinner but the ache in my stomach seemed to be growing more intense. Within two hours a sharp pain had developed on my left side. I suspected an appendicitis but quickly tossed out the idea after a quick Internet search revealed the appendix is on the opposite side. At this point I broke out in a sweat even though, to the touch, my face was cold and clammy.

I can safely say I was officially panicked. I began brainstorming whether I should call 9-1-1 or simply drive myself to the ER [about five miles away]. I elected for the latter and quickly hopped in the car. It was 9:30 at night. It wasn’t especially warm outside but I was sweating nonetheless. I rolled down my windows and opened the sunroof allowing the wind to soothe my forehead and cheeks. During the brief drive I phoned my cousin to inform her of what was going on. By the time I arrived at the ER I was bowled over by a sharp and intense pain.

Roughly ninety minutes after my arrival I was wheeled in for an MRI only to learn I had an 8mm kidney stone that had probably just been ejected from my kidney. No one in my family had ever had a kidney stone that I know of so I was in completely unfamiliar territory. The doctor informed me it was extremely unlikely that an 8mm stone would pass on its own, which left me with two options:

#1, have a urologist send a fiber optic camera with pincers up my urethra and through my bladder into the ureter to retrieve the stone. This sounded very unpleasant to say the least. One of the nurses even made a snide comment about Roto-rooter.

The other option, #2, was to have lithotripsy, a procedure involving ultrasound where the stone is obliterated by sound waves. This would only be possible if the stone was located in a particular portion of the ureter. Luckily for me, it had likely just exited my kidney in the coffee shop so lithotripsy was still an option. The only catch was I would have to wait 5 days to have the procedure. Needless to say three days later I found myself once again in the ER totally overcome with pain and vomiting from the nausea. I later learned that my cousin’s daughter had suffered a kidney stone and the intensity of pain, in her words, was “worse than labor pain.”

The fascinating thing about the whole experience in that ER was that even in the clutches of my pain I could feel the malaise of the previous month lifting. I was in the waiting room nearly in a fetal position but somehow I felt better. The cloudiness in my head and the fatigue seemed to instantaneously disappear. Just days after the procedure the heartburn and the palpitations also subsided and I quickly realized what had occurred after that massage. I’ve always been told tense muscles trap toxins such as lactic acid. Those toxins are released when the tension is broken by massage. The massage after Tennessee had released toxins into my blood but my left kidney was impacted and wasn’t functioning properly to filter them. Once the stone was released, many of my symptoms resolved only to be replaced by the intense pain of the stone being trapped in the ureter.

A few days later I completed the lithotripsy procedure with only three weeks to spare until my move. Thankfully I am writing this blog from my new address. As Shakespeare once wrote “All’s Well that Ends Well.”

The Road To Tennessee - Part II

Just before dusk and only a day after our arrival my cousin and I took to the roads for the four-hour return drive to Atlanta. The Tennessee farm was gorgeous but our weekend trip had to be cut short due to the unfortunate passing of one of my cousin’s close friends. Truthfully, I wasn’t fully rested from the drive up as we loaded our things into the car but I decided I would take it easy the following day.

I arrived home Saturday just before midnight and threw my bags in the corner. The next morning I was tired, but was pleasantly surprised that eight cumulative hours in the car hadn’t completely wiped me out. I nevertheless knew I would need at least another good night’s sleep before I even felt close to being rested. In an effort to give myself a leg up I booked a massage for the following day. Almost without fail I manage to sleep deeply after a massage and I knew sleep would be the only cure for my fatigue.

The day of my massage went more or less as planned. I had booked the last appointment of the night knowing the relaxed state would leave me feeling sleepy. I ordered a pizza on the way home and devoured several slices before retiring to my bed. Just as expected, my slumber was deep and uninterrupted. Normally I sleep anywhere from four to six hours unless I’ve had a massage, in which case eight hours are more typical. This day however I didn’t fully awake.

The next morning I looked at the clock, aware that I had slept eight hours but I remained strangely groggy and unrefreshed. In fact, I was more tired than I had been the night before. Luckily, I didn’t have any appointments and was free to continue sleeping. I quickly rolled over for what I thought would be another hour or so of slumber only to find my day dragging on with me only waking long to eat or use the restroom. Before I knew it, 6 pm had rolled around and I was not only still in pajamas, I was still in bed! With each hour of sleep it seemed my fatigue only deepened. I was probably in denial at the time, but when I think back about it I now realize there was an added malaise I was experiencing even if I couldn’t define exactly what it was. There was no sore throat, no sniffles, not even a full headache but I was groggy and my thoughts were murky.

To my dismay, this new feeling of unwell continued for days that quickly ran into weeks and then a month. I felt myself slipping into a cloud. After months of laboring to finish my book, it occurred to me I had misstepped. I had promised myself I would move from the outskirts of Atlanta or what the locals call OTP (outside the perimeter) for a younger and hipper address inside the perimeter (ITP).

Only months before I’d been told that Alan Ball, the author of “American Beauty” had grown up in Marietta and had based the story on his perceptions of life there. Ten years after the movie I was living in Marietta and made witness to some of the hypocrisies outlined in the film. And now I was scrambling around attempting to ready the new home while organizing the old one thirty miles away for its new occupants. Each passing day I felt like crap. To describe my state of mind as “discouraged” is the weakest of understatements. With such feelings of physical discord how would I accomplish everything that needed to be done? To make things worse new symptoms were arising daily -- terrible heartburn, dizziness and heart palpitations. And no matter how much I slept I didn’t feel rested. I reluctantly consulted my doctors but they were without answers. Fortunately by this time the answers were only days away. -TO BE CONTINUED-