How Old Would You Rather Be?

The other day my brother Taddeo, 16, asked me what was better, being 20 or being 30.

I responded 25. Seriously, sounds like a cop-out, but hear me out:

At 20, you are "free", technically, you can have fun, and are truly exploring the world with youth on your side. You sleep around a lot, you drink too much, you don't work that hard and responsibilities seems like they don't matter: you're twenty!

but the truth is, I was still uncomfortable.

By 25, you feel great, you have had some experiences, many girls, a few "careers" and the world is looking up. 30 feels like a long time--you've had sooo many experiences for the past 5 years, it will just stretch on and on....

26, 27, they feel the same, it's like an extension of 25. No big deal.

At 28, I wrote this:

Beating the Birthday Blues, Or, How to It Make Past Your 28th Birthday

Think I was freaking out a bit?

Suddenly, you're aware of your mortality (That line, I think anyone over 50 would smack me for it). You are two mere years from big three, and shit is about to get serious. I started think I would have it figured out in time, that "girl" was right around the corner, that "career" was about to be set (Actually, I'd just moved back to LA to go into the boat business), and you hear that friends you have by this age are the ones you keep for life. (OK! Yes!)

Then you blink and it's thirty. And it sucks, because you think NOW you need everything figured out quick, your friends are getting married and having babies, you now have 2 more ex girlfriends with children (and with the very NEXT boy--it could have been YOU!), and you are definitely mortal. Suddenly, your dad asking you when he's going to have grandchildren gets more serious, you think about how old you would be when your children are in their teens if you had them at 32, 34, 36...?

You get widely irrational, and the pressure adds. It feels like your friends are talking behind your back about it, but it's all you. It's silly, but you put this pressure on yourself, you MUST be on a good financial path, have that car, and the right girl.

So, yeah, 30 is annoying.

But you know what? I feel more in control of my life than ever, I know how to say "no" and i feel more and more confident and even thought I still have failures, I can compose myself and grow.

So, actually it's not bad! It's not bad at all!!

Taddeo, I change my mind, 3-0 is the best so far. :)

In the Race to Find That Girl...

It's so easy to get caught up in the search, the obsessing over little details and thinking too fast, too hard about who you like and for what and how long and and and...

I mean, really? Why do I make it hard? As my friend and I where talking about, you are far more likely to find a friend (romantic or not) that lives near to you, works on your floor on your building, and the further the person from your habitual circle, the smaller the chance of meeting them.

We couple up with people who are close to us, basically, and it matters less and less about race and background, more about our physical proximity. I have met my last girlfriend at school, another at my work, and seeing them every day led to the hooking up. (Of course there was chemistry, but that was built. We didn't just meet and fall for each other!).

What this means is, all the talk about "The One" is B.S. because what really matters is meeting your neighbors and your coworkers and classmates, and "chances are" you will meet someone you can be with. That's it!!!

-----

I met a girl the other day, fun and sweet and smart, but she lives in a different country. Over three evening we connected a bit--in two languages, and I was sorry to see her leave. Of course I only met her because my friend A. went to school with her.

And you know what, it makes me sad, because I haven't met too many girls in the local bars and clubs that are like this. This L.A. is not a great place to meet girls by randomly showing up at venues. it's just a crapshoot. It makes me want to say "Fuck it, I need to pursue this one", but it's about the most impractical pursuit one could think of. If it got anywhere.

What do I do?

"Fun" in Hollywood

So.

I'm single again.

My last girlfriend and I, we'd just celebrated out 1st anniversary when the "excrement hit the air conditioning unit", as Kurt Vonnegut once so eloquently put it. Not that there hadn't been signs.

Anyways, we "broke up" and it didn't end very well. I'll spare the details, but it wasn't good for my ego.

The trouble is, finding a girlfriend--no, the right girlfriend--is not the easiest thing in L.A. You go out, you meet girls, and you have to figure out quickly, first and foremost, how FAR they live. I don't know if you've tried this, but dating someone who lives in Burbank when you live in the West Side (That's West of the 405, really), is damn near impossible. Imagine driving an hour and a half to meet for a date. Sounds good? Me neither.

Then there is where you go to meet a girl. I went out the other night with friends to The Colony, a Hollywood bar that, last time I went, had Playboy Playmates partying there. Sounds fun, right? This time, it was Self-Conscious City: Every. Damn. Person. Looked good, looked polished and tan and sexy. The guys looked like they had money, and the girls huddled up and fished for the top prize. It was a meat market, and there was so much hormones and attitude, it felt forced and fake. People danced the way people dance now, by pumping their fist in the air and jumping up and down.

The dance floor for me is usually my comfort zone, my happy place where I can be myself and have fun. I feel confident and usually it shows. I've met lots of girls there, and of course, results are mixed (Inversely, I'm sure any girls could relate)---you just don't know who you will meet.

On this particular night, I connected with a beautiful latina that I had spotted when my friend dropped a drink at her feet. She thought it was me, I apologized and oh by the way would you like a drink?  My French buddy's girlfriend came to the bar with as a sidekick, and was helpfully trying to get the conversation going ("Oh, you like going to Vegas?"--and to me: "Tell her you love Vegas, you want to go there next week!!". But I never liked Vegas, so I don't want to make a big show of pretending I do.).

THIRTY dollars later (2 very alcoholic drinks!), we are moving back to the dance floor where we join up with her group of BFFs. They are standing in a semi-circle, and instinctively I start dancing into their circle, flirtatious-but-in-a-I-don't-care-way. Only, one of her friend doesn't want me there, and is wagging her finger in my face. Her attitude says "I don't think so, white boy. This is a girl's night". I smile, shrug and step back, before my curvaceous Latina friend makes like "He's OK". But I am not welcome, here.

I ended up eying another very cute girl--like a pin-sized Salma Hayek--who was dancing better than the other girls (a BIG plus for me), and sided up with her, but she was being shy; once again my sidekick literally took my hand and put it on this girl's hips, and we were dancing close. We ended up chatting for ten minutes outside while she smoked a cig (BIG negative!), and then we danced some more, and kissed for a bit. However, I had realized we probably wouldn't take it much further (She lives in Glendale, hardly showed any personality, and looks latin but has little to do with the culture--doesn't speak Spanish, for one).

By the end of the evening, I reverted back to hanging with my friends, and even danced with some cool African guys, not giving a shit anymore about finding a girl. I decided that I would stop paying $20 for the privilege to wait 20 minutes outside, to go inside and get all kinds of attitude and have the privilege to pay $65+ in drinks, and not have a lot of fun along the way. What a bunch of pretentious bullshit.

My new theory is I'm going to find "the right girl" somewhere else, at a library, at a friend's party, or a holistic crystal reading even but NOT a shitty Hollywood club.

Beating the Birthday Blues, Or, How to It Make Past Your 28th Birthday

For the past six months, whenever someone asks how old I was, I’ve been saying 28. Then I correct myself and remember that my birthday is September 14th, and wonder how I made the slip.

Recently, my twin brother related to me a comment my dad made. He said that when I lived at my dad’s house last year I kept talking about “getting old,” and I seemed unhappy about my age and where I was at the time. Of course, at the time I was living with my father and in a job—selling macarons to cute San Francisco women—that was fun, but nowhere near fulfilling my expectations for my career.

I found myself at a standstill, and this little voice was calling out in my head: Look where other people are at around you, you are not even a college graduate. You chose to work. What’s going on with you, right now? I looked at my paycheck and wondered when I would be able to afford normal rent, and I was wondering when I would be able to achieve that American Dream. I was pressing.

I also knew that I was being silly; the downturn in the economy wasn’t my fault. Eventually, I ended 2009 on an optimistic tone, as I moved to Los Angeles to work with my stepdad Jean-Marie in his new venture, a sailboat dealership. I had been looking for some months to work in the sailing industry; I loved the boating lifestyle, so it was perfect. I also wanted to work with Jean-Marie as he is a very bright entrepreneur, so I was excited about that. Things where looking up.

It took a while to get going, as all businesses do, and in the first few months we worked in a gigantic hangar while our office where being built, managing to run the business pretty effectively. I was learning loads, and as I always do I was looking at how this new venture I’d join would be for me a stepping stone for my career. Was this finally the career path I was looking for?

* * *

It was a question I’d been asking myself since the end of high school. Some people go to doctor school, some to study journalism or psychiatry; I studied Business and Sociology, and saw myself as an entrepreneur. I joined small businesses because they offered the most chance at growing and learning different tricks, but now I was beginning to see that I would need to commit for more than two years to one business to eventually become successful. It was going to take a commitment to a career.

I was catching up recently with a visiting friend whom I see when he is in town, and told him about the great opportunity I had with my current company, that they saw me as running the business one day; He congratulated me, but then said to me: “You know, every few years I see you, and you on a career path and the people you work with see this great potential, and then next time I see you are at a another job, and it seems like a great opportunity again…”. I was a bit hurt at first, but I quickly realized he was right; either it hadn’t been the right business, or I hadn’t given it all, but I needed to be more mature and stick around to find out.

Today is my birthday. At 28 years of age, I finally feel that I’m ready to have that career path chosen, and perhaps it’s no coincidence that current company I’m working for is the one I feel the most comfortable in years; I see myself there long-term vs short-term, that this is a company with the right ingredients for continued success and growth for the company and myself along with it. It’s a 15 year-old business (so it has a history of success) with new, but very experienced owners but who’ll do what it takes (financially and managerially) to make it even more successful. As my boss Steve said the other day, quoting Notre Dame coach Lou Holtz at the end of his first season: “We ain’t where we wanna be, we ain’t where were gonna be, but, thank God, we ain’t where used to be!”

Even my friend Isaac, to whom I was explaining my recent dating experiences in LA , said to me as response: “Focus on your work.” He’s right, and in fact the less I worry about girls the better I usually come out on that front. But what he’s really saying is that now’s the time to really put my head down and kick some serious ass at work. The rest—money, career, will take care of itself.

* * *

My main question—Will I be successful in life?—itself brings up another question: how do I quantify success? Not how do others quantify success, but how do I quantify it? For me for a long time, a big part of that equation has been the thing most of us Americans yearn for: money, and loads of it. I have to flush that out of my system before it consumes me a bit too much. What happens if I never make “the money”? I’m going to feel sorry for myself and pity myself to death?

Recently, it occurred to me that my step-father never really talks about his past business experiences; You never really hear him talk about his past accomplishments. I’ve noticed this with older friends and aquaintenances as well. They are simple focused on the present task at hand.

The only ones who openly talk about what they have accomplished are my age, and I know I’m responsible for doing that too. My older and wiser friends have figured out that it’s not about what you’ve accomplished, but what you are doing now and in the future. (Either that, or they don’t like to talk about past because it reminds them that they are getting older! )

There are times to say ‘Well, it’s time to move on and do something else”, and there are times in which you have to say, no matter what, I’m going to put my head down and focus on work. Then I’ll come out ahead. These are such times, and for everyone. And there are people who get it; more and more Americans are starting businesses of their own, having been forced by the economic climate to forgo the safe job at the enterprise and field of your choosing and going the entrepreneurial route. Besides, it’s more fun!

In my case, I’m not going to start my own business, but I’m looking to take a very active role in the running of my business; recently promoted to Marketing Manager, I am keeping a broad perspective on the potential of this company, and with an eye towards running it entirely. I already feel that, with support, I could be doing that, and as long as I focus and basically kick-butt , this opportunity will present itself. It’s not about arrogance, but simply about having the will to make something happen; you put it out there to the Universe, you do your work, and the pieces should fall into place. Or at least something interesting will come out of it. My goal in life is to have as many experiences as possible, to make use of the short time (comparatively) that we have here. It’s a total cliché, but it’s what I truly believe.

What is your goal in life? What is your view of things happen? Are you an optimist or a pessimist? (Pessimists don’t admit to being pessimists—they just call themselves realists.)

Sailing Solo , Around the...Point?

Last night I took a 40-foot Beneteau just like the one pictured from Long Beach to Los Angeles; it was my first time single-handling a boat this size, only a few days after single-handling a sailboat for the first time in my life. I had to do it in cold and wet seas, and half-way through it was pitch dark. Naturally I felt a bit like that 16 years old kid who circumnavigated the world by himself last year, Zac Sutherland (Incidentally, I'd just spotted him at the boat show I was at that day). Anyways, I wanted to share the experience, because it was really something. The whole world is closing in around you, the elements are in your face and the ball is in your court.

We were heading almost straight into the wind, and so you had to motor, but by launching the main sail and taking tacks up, you could have some fun and make this an exercise in sail trimming (which I dearly need--I've been a bowman in racing, and for years left the trimming to other guys). I was also following my step-dad on the catamaran he had, but he was getting further and further until eventually I lost the light at the top of his mast in the darkness. I had to gain back on him. the bow kept plunging into the sea and spray would hit me in the face (Wow, is this really southern california?!), but I was playing music like Zero 7 and Kate Nash and I knew I wasn't far from the shore. At the same time, you're constantly reminded that being alone on a sailboat, you can make one silly stupid mistake and go overboard, take a boom to the head, and you'll be done.

There I was, thought, feeling adventurous. I was thinking about those lonely solo circumnavigators, how it would feel to take off by yourself, and I remember now a quote from a sailor who was among the first to try going around the world, solo, without stops: "You can't do it for the fame, you have to do it because it's your passion"(Find a movie called "Deep Water" about it---you'll see amazing footage of this race in 1968, and get a clear idea of how it felt.). There was even one French sailor, Bernard Moitessier, who went all the way from France, down to South Africa, all the way under Asia and through the worst storms in Cape Horn, up the Americas and finally, almost home, turns around and quits the race, telling his wife he "wasn't done yet". He went halfway around the world again to finish in Tahiti. Now, there is a man who enjoys is solitude; I for one, I don't think I could: I need to be around people, I need to socialize, and so I'd need my girlfriend or wife or friends with me. (Mental note: I need to find a girl who enjoys sailing.) But I would dearly love to go and take off, absolutely.