Central Casting

N is occasionally a creative type. His side job/hobby is basically that of a writer (I know, I know -- I swore I'd never date another writer, but that draw is always there) of the film persuasion. He and I have been doing well, I think. We spent the past two evenings together, and, again, whenever I'm with him, my life feels like magic, like I'm living someone else's romantic comedy. We have intelligent, witty banter and good sex, and that combination is damn hard to find.

It's the times between when we're together that I worry. Unnecessarily? Maybe. Is the fact that I'm worrying at all troubling to say the least? Maybe.

What I've been thinking about lately is what roles we play in other people's lives. Say that this is one of N's screenplays. I'm still unsure what archetype N is going to be in my life. Sometimes I think he's going to be the real, sexy, perfect-for-each-other long-term love affair that the movies make us want. But other times I think he's going to be a successful, metropolitan Peter Pan cliche, like Mr. Big, whom I'll look back on once this is all over and laugh and roll my eyes.

What will I be in his life, when all of this is figured out? When we decide to either be with each other for real (a.k.a. boyfriend/girlfriend leading to a live-in/fiance), or split for good a few weeks/months along the road? Will I be...

1. The Woman Who Changes Him?
-Every romance novel has a chaste heroine who tames the somewhat promiscuous, sexy bad boy. I'm not sure chaste fits, in my case, but I think every woman wants to be the exception to the rule: the one who ends up with the ring, the love, and every inch of the fairytale...before real-life fights about generic trash bags versus Hefty set in, that is.

2. The Woman He Thinks He Should Want?
-When a man becomes a certain age, he sometimes thinks he should man up and marry/become involved/get serious with the woman he happens to be with at the time. I don't want to be the faceless female silhouette in a cardboard storybook fantasy.

3. The Woman He Lets Get Away Because He's Not Ready?
-N's friends love me. His family loves me. His boss loves me. Seriously. But sometimes good reviews about your lover from damn near everyone you know just doesn't make up for the fact that you're not feelin' it. At all.

4. The "Intelligent Career Woman" in a High Fidelity-esque Lineup of Girls?
-I don't think he's ever had someone as smart, or as "whole package," as me before. I don't say that because I'm narcissistic (Lord, everyone who reads this blog knows that I'm definitely not that), but I think that I'm not the usual type of woman he goes for. Sometimes he likes style over substance in his life -- from milk containers to clothing -- and maybe I'm his foray into something more than eyeliner and highlights. If this is true, though, the good news is that I won't end up with a manchild a la John Cusack's character.

It's fun to speculate, I guess, but maybe it's more fun to live it. My birthday party is tomorrow, and N is coming. I am so excited. I want so badly for him to fit into my life, and it's been working lately. Like Sara says, sometimes things go well, and, when they do, in hopes of future love I subconsciously hold my breath and "don't look, don't touch, don't do anything, but hope that there is a you."

Anti-Resolutions

I don't do resolutions anymore. I stopped that a couple of years ago. I change my mind weekly as to what I want, and sometimes I suspect that only my subconscious REALLY knows what I'm pining after.

But this is something I can do: say no. Voice an emphatic "no."

Things I'm Not Going to Do Anymore:

1. Qualify my musical tastes by selling out my gender.
Example: "Her songs are really girly, but she's very talented...." That goes for my current favorites, especially, but not limited to: Sara Bareilles, The Blow, and The Pierces. If it's chick music, FANTASTIC. Better, in fact, than most music. Being a woman is not a negative.

2. Continue to tell my boss about my love life.
She's one of my best friends, but my big mouth is asking for trouble, even when I share the tiniest thing about N. I'm beginning to think that she thinks I make bad decisions. It was one thing when I was with the Boyf, because we could both bitch about our LTRs (long-term relationships), but there's no way she can identify with what young single women go through in this city, whether I'm being good or, um, NOT being good.

3. Apologize for my feelings.
I will no longer say, "I'm sorry, but I want to be with you" or "I'm sorry that I've pushed too hard for exclusivity." No. If I fucking want to be with you, you should be grateful. No apologies necessary.

4. Keep feeling like I should be married or at least engaged.
Do I really want that? Do I really, honestly, want to be married and have to check in with someone nightly, like I did with the Boyf? Do I really want to have to justify my movie choices, my Sunday afternoon rituals, my drinking, my strength, to some dude? No. Plus: At least one of my high-school acquaintances is mommy-blogging. Mommy-blogging! I can't imagine anything I'd want to do less. I can't imagine a life I'd want less.

5. Be judgmental of myself and others.
If I accidentally get blasted, say, and hook up with, say, a Screenwriter who respects (or at least respectED) me, and I realize in the morning I'm over it and over him? Drunk-text N in a moment of weakness? Make out with a stranger in a dive bar? I'm moving on. No Scarlet Letter-esque emotional flogging, because it's a waste of time. I'm accepting it was Bad Idea Jeans for me at the time, and I'm saying, "Next!" Someone I know did blow at some party? Their choice. Their decision. Their body. If it doesn't involve me, it's none of my business. Next.

6. Accept freelance assignments that I hate.
Unless all the furniture I've randomly bought REALLY puts me into a financial hole, I'm going to value my limited free time above the fact that I can say I'm writing for this or that publication. Because, frankly, who cares? Only. Me. The rest of my friends would rather grab an afternoon beer with me than hear about my busy fucking schedule.

Happy 2008.

Dear Sara, I love you. Love, Jane

Never before have I wanted so badly to have a lesbian love affair with one of my favorite singers until right now:

Sara Bareilles's "Love Song" video

Off the Wagon

Here in the city, there's actually a bar named Off the Wagon, so maybe I should have gone there for my inaugural drink last weekend. Instead, I celebrated seven days of sobriety at a new Irish pub in my 'hood (not my usual hangout, the Bar that Shall Not Be Named) that has karaoke on Sundays. I sipped my Bud Light draft(s), chatted up some interesting fellows at the bar, including a fabulously good-looking chef, and sang the following songs:

"Black Velvet," by Alannah Myles
"My Favorite Mistake," by Sheryl Crow
"Why," by Annie Lennox (kind of a downer, but the crowd was sweet and attentive nonetheless)
"Don't Stop Believin'," by Journey

I felt my night was a rousing success and a fantastic entree back into the world of booze. It's my goal to respect the drink -- to harness its power and keep the abuse to a minimum. In the week that I've returned to drinking, I've only done a couple of dumb things -- namely frequenting the Bar that Shall Not Be Named a couple of times and sending some ill-advised text messages to a certain Brazilian bartender who's not having any of it.

But I'm working at getting past this awkward life stage.

I am trying -- as hard as possible, after this breakup and during this new life that I'm carving out for myself -- to be normal, which, for me, Jane, is sometimes hard. Much like the drink, I'm learning to respect my individuality and my quirkiness -- to understand when it works for me and cut it off when I go into overdrive. It's exciting, being single: I have new interests and new likes that I'm not sure would have been possible had life not been stripped down to its barest: just me.

So (because I'm such a huge fan of lists) here is what I'm digging right now -- what I've discovered now that I'm on my own and learning to get along with that:

New favorite bar: the Russian Vodka Room
- Stepping inside is like transporting yourself into the 1940s -- or the 1950s, at the very latest. They have a piano player who sings songs in Russian and a sweet veteran female bartender who will bring you a new drink, no questions asked, if you accidentally spill yours. (Not that I would know this firsthand.)

New favorite musician: Feist
- Check her out on iTunes. I'm listening to her newest album for the first time as I type this, and it's fantastic.

Old favorite musician who's going to blow up huge in no time flat: Sara Bareilles
- I saw her at the Bowery Ballroom a couple of weeks ago, and she's rapidly developing a fanbase that will preclude her from appearing at any more small venues for the rest of her career. I'm happy for her, but I'm sad that she's not my obscure little piano gal anymore. She's opening for Maroon 5 this summer, and I consider that a nail in the indie coffin.

New favorite vacation destination: Miami
- Can't remember the last time I took a vacation that didn't involve going to see relatives. A girlfriend from work and I are buying our tickets tomorrow for a trip to a place I've only fantasized about going. And the hotel looks beautiful and inviting.

New favorite TV show: Mad Men
- There are so many amazing things about this show that I can't enumerate them all here. This is AMC's original series about Madison Avenue ad execs in 1960, and it leaves nothing untouched, including the rampant sexism and racism of the period. Love the costumes, love the actors, love everything about it. It reminds me a little of one of my favorite books, The Best of Everything.

What fun things are you guys obsessed with right now? Do share if you feel so inclined.


And, of course, listen to Blogstein and me keep on rockin' in the free world Tuesday night at 9 on Blog Talk Radio. We'll be expecting you, so show up on time, pen and paper in hand, ready to take notes.

Buy This Now

I'm serious: If you spend money on anything other than this today, it will be a waste. Food included.

Please buy Sara Bareilles's Little Voice album from iTunes or the music store or wherever the kids are getting their music fix these days. I adore her, and I think she's one of the most talented musicians I have ever seen live. You'll be thanking me later. So there's my review. Now go out and buy it, dammit.

Also: As always, Blogstein and I are doing our thang tonight at 9 p.m. EST on Blog Talk Radio. You know you want to listen.

Blogging = Bad

I shouldn't be blogging. I have been out with a high school friend and into the wine, and I just subjected my roommate to a long story involving San Diego, a guy named Fabian, and a plastic surgery conference. She deserves acccolades tonight, much more than I do.

But here are the lyrics behind the music that's haunting me and turning my mind toward the positive:

Only thing I ever could need,
only one good thing worth trying to be, and it's
love, love, love, love. I do it for love, love, love.
-Sara Bareilles, "Bottle It Up"

I wish I were that optimistic anymore, my dear young musician. Thank God I'm going to Baltimore this weekend. Even New Yorkers need escape sometimes.

UPDATE: I fixed the lyrics to make them, oh, correct. Like I said, I'd been into the wine last night.

Sarasongs

I saw a great musician tonight: Sara Bareilles. She's a singer/songwriter/pianist, and I was hooked from the first note. It's hard to describe how she sounds. As I was standing at Hiro Ballroom, watching her, I came up with "a cross between Fiona Apple and Billie Holiday." That's moderately accurate. You can hear her songs at her MySpace page, but her official website is here. But trust me: The recordings don't do her voice justice.

I'm a sucker for female singer/songwriters anyway, so it's no surprise that I like her. Strangely enough, a man -- the Boyf -- introduced me to her.

The thing about hearing an artist perform or reading something meaningful is that it takes me aback a little. As adults, we're so good at pushing away our feelings in favor of stoicism, keeping the peace, or simply surviving. When I heard Sara's voice tonight and listened to her lyrics, something was peeled back -- one of those New York onion layers that I've wrapped myself up in. Sometimes we need a nudge in order to cry.

(Also, please tune in tonight at 9 p.m. EST to hear Dr. Blogstein and me spout off our opinions on such things as March Madness and the Barbie Bandits on Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour. Just click here to listen.)