A few weeks ago, Beth, a London blogger, issued me a challenge. From beyond the River Thames, she tossed a meme scuttling across the Atlantic. "Post seven things you approve of," she directed.
When a tall English girl with a dimpled smile commands, I'm inclined to comply. The trouble is, I don't fully understand the mission. So I decided to follow the meme back to its origin.
Backpedaling along the blog stream, I traced its flow from Beth to her friend Peach, whose Amazon.com wish list includes a Dover edition of Beowulf, Dante's Inferno, and Joyce's Dubliners (I can tell she's my kind of girl); from her to fwengebola, whose profile photo shows a mischievous six-year-old clad in cardigan and a broad-striped necktie; from him to Girl Dates London, whose tagline reads, "Dating London, one man at a time."
But here, I ran into a dead end. The girl who's been dating London is on a hiatus. Why seven? Why things that meet your approval? Why not things that you detest (which might be a revealing exercise in itself)? I can't ask her, so your guess is as good as mine.
So I'm redefining this orphaned meme. I'm compiling seven silly activities that I find delightful. Not only do they meet with my approval, I will, in fact, encourage everyone to try them out.
Here, in no particular order, are my seven indulgences:
1. Pillow Fights
On the morning of Valentine's Day, I was fluffing my pillow. I had received words that hundreds of San Franciscans would gather at the Justin Harman Plaza at the Embarcadero. When the clock on the Ferry Building struck six, the crowd would indiscriminately begin taking swipes at one another with the pillows they'd brought along. And I would be among them.
Well, I didn't make it. When the feathers started flying, I was home, proofreading an article that was due the next morning.
Since I missed out on this uniquely San Franciscan event, I decided I'd stage my own version. On Saturday, when I went to meet a group of friends for dinner, I brought along a decorative pillow. The waitstaff at the restaurant was puzzled to see me walk in with a blue satin pillow with needlework dragonflies (coincidentally, the name of the restaurant is Dragonfly).
"Do you always bring your own cushion along?" asked one of my friends.
"No," I replied. "I'm starting a pillow fight afterwards."
Two of the diners--one was my neighbor, another was someone I'd just met--happened to be participants of the Valentine's Day pillow fight. They understood what I was suggesting, but had a question about the fairness.
"We didn't bring any pillows," my neighbor pointed out.
"I'll pass my pillow around," I said. "We'll take turn."
And that's exactly what we did. My pillow held up quite well, I'm glad to report. No spilled feathers, just dragonflies flashing across people foreheads, faces, shoulders, and behinds as my pillow claimed its victims.
(For more info on the downtown event, visit www.pillowfight.info.)
2. Reenacting Cheesy Cinematic Moments
My friend Nika and I are planning to reenact a memorable scene from Love Actually, where Colin Firth's character Jamie, a lonely writer, proposes marriage to his former housekeeper Aurelia, a sultry Portuguese girl with short dark hair. We feel the roles suit us because, well, I'm a writer, and Nika has short blond hair.
The scene takes place in a crowded restaurant where Aurelia is working as a part-time waitress. Nika and I have discussed the possibility of using one of the bars in downtown Berkley as our venue. To remain faithful to the movie, Nika would have to be situated somewhere over a balcony, and I'd have to be standing below, with an entourage of curious onlookers.
For my part, I'd have to say, in badly rehearsed Portuguese:
Beautiful Aurelia!
I've come here with a view to asking you to marriage me.
I know I seems an insane person because I hardly knows you.
But sometimes things are so transparency, they don't need evidential proof.
Of course I don't expecting you to be as foolish as me.
And of course I prediction you say no.
But it's Christmas and I just wanted to ... check.
Another scene under consideration: Cary Grant meeting Eva Marie Saint for the first time on a train in North by Northwest (which can be accomplished on either Caltrain or Amtrak).
3. Random Acts of Kindness
If you ever visit the Starbucks a block away from Golden Gate Park, where 9th Avenue and Irving Street intersect, don't be surprised if, one day, just as you're fishing for your purse or wallet, you're told someone has already paid for your mocha or muffin. Most likely, you've been a recipient of my random act of kindness.
Once in a while, when I come into a bit of extra income, I'd go to there and buy a gift card for $20 to $50. Then I'd ask the clerk behind the counter to pay for everyone who comes after me with that card until the balance runs out. (It took quite a bit of explaining the first time I did this.)
Then I'd take a seat outside and watch the show. You'd be surprised at how little it takes to cheer up people. You watch them walk into the cafe with hung heads. Maybe they're stressed out from a divorce proceeding. Maybe they have an impossible deadline to meet. Maybe they're broke. Who knows? Then, when they find out a stranger has paid for their $2.75 espresso drink or $1.75 peanut butter cookie, they walk out with a broad grin on their face, ready to face the day. I've seen this transformation countless times. I never grow tired of it.
4. Speed Dating
I'm a one-time earthquake survivor (Loma Prieta, October 18, 1989, magnitude 7.1), and a three-time speed-dating survivor. I must admit, once I got over the initial jitter, I managed to have fun (the same goes for the quake too).
Most of the singles I've met at these events are witty, funny, and quite charming. I think the format attracts them. They sign up because they know they have what it takes to survive the rounds of rapid-fire exchanges.
If you've never given it a shot, I dare you to. If you get cold feet, just imagine you're a character in a classic screwball comedy (with about 20 improvised scenes, each lasting five- to eight minutes).
5. Serenading
Where I grew up (Southeast Asia), it's quite common for boys to serenade girls. On certain evenings, after sunset, I slung my guitar over my shoulder and, with an entourage of friends (sometimes strangers too), marched to the street where the girl I liked lived. If we were fortunate enough to find a spot under her window, we'd camp out and belch out whichever pop song that happened to be in vogue at the time. My heart leapt if, at the end of a song, her bedroom light came on briefly. That was just about the only kind of signal she would give.
I know serenading is not a part of American courtship, but I don't see why it can't be. If you'd like to try it, here's a tip: confine your target selection to second-floor residents with a bedroom window facing the street. It's difficult to sing loud enough to be heard on the third floor and beyond, and there isn't enough time to flee if someone on the ground floor decides to confront you (I speak from experience).
6. Public Display of Poetic Affection
One of my friends agreed to go out with someone because, during their first serendipitous encounter at a public library, this stranger knelt before her and recited the first stanza of T. S. Eliot's "The Waste Land." (To be precise, he crouched down next to where she was sitting to avoid attracting the attention of the old librarian.) Another girl I befriended on Facebook told me she'd marry the person who could recite "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (also by Eliot coincidentally) in its entirety, the Italian epigraph included.
I'm glad I started memorizing the collected works of T. S. Eliot years ago. (I'm guessing it might only take a few verses from Beowulf to woo Beth's blogger friend Peach.)
7. Living One Breath at a Time
Sometime in March, I'm planning to fly roughly 4,000 miles to the East Coast for a date with someone I've never met in person. This will probably be quite unlike any other dates. She was born deaf, so I can't rely on spoken words alone for our communication.
I have been making an effort to study her primary language: American Sign Language. But I've barely mastered the alphabets and a handful of basic sentences. (I also learned by watching William Hurt's character in Children of a Lesser God to sign "I think I'm falling for you," but, considering the movie's canonical status in deaf culture, she's bound to recognize the plagiarism instantly.)
The coast-to-coast distance between us spells doom. The language barrier will work against us. My pragmatic friends point out, correctly, that this is an endeavor that'll most likely end in disappointment. But that's precisely why I think I should give it a shot.
Even if nothing comes of it, one day with this remarkable person, I think, is worth all the preparations beforehand and the subsequent heartaches. I'll concentrate on the time between one sunrise and another. There are 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour, 24 hours in a day. That's roughly the equivalent of 86,400 breaths, enough time to recite Prufrock's 140-line love song or reenact the entire 102-minute-long Casablanca, with enough time to spare afterwards for a Starbucks Latte and a pillow fight.
No one keeps scores or keep time in a pillow fight. You let it run its course. Maybe that's how dating should be.
I'm not tagging anyone in particular, but if you feel inspired to publish your own list of seven, let me know so I can follow you to your blog. In the mean time, sleep well and fight fair, pillow warriors!
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