Category: Jewish

commitment · dating · faith · Jewish · recovery · self-care

Standards

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Yesterday as I was walking to catch my bus to the movies
with friends, a young man walked out of a nearby store and was walking just a few
paces next to me in the same direction. It was obvious we were going to be
going the same way for a while, so I asked him what he’d bought at the store –
it’s a little Italian food and cheese shop.
We ended up chatting and laughing a good bit on the way, and
as my bus came into sight, and he was going to continue on his way, I
introduced myself and held out my hand. He did the same, and then he asked, Do
you want to get together some time?
I smiled, and said, Actually I’m not dating right now, but
thank you. And he looked a little quizzical, but accepted it, and as we crossed
the street, I said maybe I’ll see you around. And I got on my bus, with
a grin on my face.
This young man, about my age, attractive, and I
picked up a Jewish vibe (my Jew-dar is pretty good with men). But, he was about
5 inches shorter than me. (I’m close to 6feet tall, if you didn’t know.)
I told my friend about the interaction later, and she said, “he wasn’t up to my standards, no pun intended…” But, unfortunately or not, it’s
true. I’ve tried to make good enough good enough, and it just doesn’t work for
me. I’ve tried to make almost the right fit into the right fit, but it’s like
Cinderella’s sisters’ bleeding toes. Eventually, the truth will out.
I felt glad that I was approachable and attractive. I felt
bummed that it wasn’t the right fit. But, I suppose it’s progress that I’m
approachable.
I still think about the Catholic and our incredible first
date in January – like something out of Before Sunrise.
I’ve been noticing I really do have a type, a physical type, at least. Blond and blue eyed. So, a blond blue
eyed, tall Jew. Right… But, as someone once told me, the Universe will either
fulfill your desire, or take it away. Or, as I’ve also heard, G-d has three answers: Yes, Not Now, and I have something better in mind.
For my reluctance to write this in an open forum, before I
met my last boyfriend, I felt like and said that I felt ready for “the one
before ‘The One,’” that I wasn’t quite ready for white-picket fence land, or to
be fully emotionally available – but that I was ready to try for the almost.
And believe it or not, I believe that’s exactly what
happened. It was almost right. It was in many ways also very not right. But I
got to practice being in a relationship; noticing my patterns, my alternation
between a desire to control and be approved of, and a desire to reject. I got to see that I wasn’t
a half-bad girlfriend, which was good, considering my self-esteem’s attachment to my sordid promiscuous past.
And, ultimately, I got to see that the difference between “almost” and “yes,”
though small, is also a canyon. Not easily crossed or bridged by any amount of
force or desire.
I’ve had a few approaches by “almosts” in the last six
months or so. And I’ve gotten to play the tape – the recent tape of trying with
an almost. It included tears, pain, “breaks,” coercion, frustration, despair.
(Of course, it also included joy, humor, contentment, and creativity.) It was
not enough. And so, I’ve had to practice saying no.
I’m not sure that I like using the phrase “I’m not dating
right now,” which had been true for the last few months, not being emotionally
available to date. But I feel that that’s changing. So, we’ll see. Maybe I will
get the opportunity to say Yes sometime soon.
(And, by the way, part of the reason for today’s blog is all
a ‘note to self’ about the inappropriate
dude-I-feel-like-a-13-year-old-lost-in-my-gawky-body-when-I-talk-to-you crush I
have on an blue-eyed acquaintance, who is non-jewish, short, taken, but oh so …
yummy.) 😉

courage · dating · fortitude · Jewish · relationships · self-care

Saturn Returns.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Every twenty-eight years, the planet Saturn returns in its
orbit around the sun to place it had been when we were born. Every 28 to
approximately 30 years, there is a window of time which some people call
“Saturn Returns.” According to some, this period of time is ripe with change
and opportunity. Usually there are major life changes in this period, either
positive or negative, and according to legend, the lessons that we do not learn
during this first period of Saturn Returns around our 30th birthday,
we have the opportunity to learn again as we approach 60; and if we’re lucky
enough to be healthy for it, again around our mid to late 80s.
In what is proving to be one of the most uncomfortable
changes I’m making in this, my period of Saturn Returns, I cancelled my date
with the Catholic for tonight, and am finally, after many f’ing years of
debate, accepting that a Jewish partner is not only important to me, but
necessary.
What makes this choice hard? Or this admittance? Well, it
feels like I’m closing a very large shiny door behind which are many large
shiny non-Jews. I also have debated whether this is “self-will,” me attempting
to shoe-horn myself into a belief that isn’t true or fair, one that says I’ll only date
Jews. How closed off is that?
But, the truth, the very hard truth of it is, that it’s the
only thing for me to do. I have been down the relationship path with men who
are not Jewish (in fact, no serious relationship I’ve ever had has been with
someone Jewish). What inevitably happens is that I spend a very large amount of
time while in the relationship debating whether it is a “deal-breaker,” until my brain feels like an out
of shape yoga participant. Achy, cranky, tired.
Ironically enough, on my date with this Catholic gentleman
on Monday, we’d been talking briefly about tattoos, and I said how I’d been
delaying my next one, as it’d be a large commitment. That I carry a quote from
a Starbucks coffee cup in my wallet which says something like, To commit to
something, in work, or in play, is to remove our brain as a barrier to our
life.
To commit to this decision, to set down this whirling dervish of questioning … could be
a relief. I have never dated women – do I lament that I’ve “cut off” an entire
portion of the population? No. I’ve finally come to admit that dating someone
taller than me is actually really important to me. And that’s felt like a
sacrifice too. But, it’s funny, I’ve been noticing a lot more cute tall men
over the last two months…
Because what it all comes down to isn’t about religion or
self-will, it’s about abundance. Can I actually let myself believe that if I
really do, in my heart of hearts, want to spend a romantic life with someone
Jewish, can I believe that there is a tall, attractive, employed, happy, funny,
Jewish man out there? Seems like a tall order! (uh, no pun intended.) But, is
it? I mean, when I think about the kinds of miracles that I’ve witnessed in my
life and in the lives of others, am I still willing to debate the power of
what’s possible in this world? When I look at the majority of the community I
know as people who have been pulled back from the gates of insanity and death
to become working members of society with entirely incredible things to
contribute – am I still unwilling to
allow myself to believe?
The painful answer is no. I am not unwilling anymore. I have
been beaten into a state of reasonableness, I have suffered under the pain of
my manic debating society, and I have resigned from that committee. I am
willing to commit to the belief that my needs are important. Haven’t I been
saying that here for a while? Haven’t I run into places in my professional life
where I’ve agreed to things I don’t want, only to have to back out? Haven’t I
made a conscious and kind-to-myself decision to not do that anymore?
Isn’t this the same thing? Isn’t this the same cosmic
lesson? To listen to myself. To allow my needs to be heard. To be responsible
to myself with care, not dismissal. Yes. It is.
And so, here I sit, willing to allow the same consideration to my romantic life that I am newly showing myself in the areas of my professional and creative life, to
allow that faith, that sense of fun, and play, and direction, and the firm
belief that wherever these bits in the cement are coming from, I can trust that
I am being led to a life worth living.
It feels so uncomfortable. Which sort of points out to me
that it’s the “right” thing. I’ve resigned before to the “easy” route of accepting whatever’s in front of me, only to end up in pain. This is making a resolute decision to groove a new
path. 
A good girl friend reminded me yesterday that crazy things happen when people are supposed to be
together, so if this particular gentleman or another non-Jew is actually
supposed to be it, he will be. “If it’s meant to be, you can’t fuck it up; if
it’s not meant to be, you can’t fix it.”
But ultimately, she also said that she sees this decision as me letting go of the rock in the middle of the river, and allowing myself to float. 
So, here’s to learning the lessons this orbit around. Bring
on the miracles.
community · dating · Jewish · spirituality

Jew

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

For me, living without a connection to Judaism in my life is
like living without sunshine. You get really used to it, and begin to forget
what it was like to have the sun on your face; you forget how your internal
organs relax when you bathe in it; and simply get used to walking with a degree
of closure in your heart and body.
I am not a religious Jew. Never was; my family never was.
But, I went to Hebrew school and Sunday school growing up, while my school pals
were going to CCD (Catholic something something – which we also referred to as
Central City Dump). I had my Bat Mizvah, and learned by rote the things I was
supposed to learn to get up in front of people and ascend into “adulthood.” But
those aren’t the sunshine inducing aspects for me.
When I stand in a sanctuary with other Jews, and we begin to
sing, I am transcended.
There is an ancient movement in my body and heart which
begins to stir, and is moved to tears on occasion of its loveliness and
fullness. My first “spiritual experience,” I remember quite clearly. I attended
a Jewish sleep-away camp in the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania for a few
intermittent years in my youth, and this happened when I was either 11 or 14.
Every Friday night, the entire camp would dress in white and walk up to The
Chapel on the Hill. This was an open, outdoor arrangement of lots of benches
facing outward over the soccer fields and dodgeball pits, out toward the very
treed landscape. The chapel itself is sort of an AT-AT looking structure (yes,
that’s a star wars reference), so you could see through it, and from above,
it’s actually shaped like a Star of David, I once heard.
I was sitting on one of these benches, looking out over the
landscape as the sun was setting, beginning Shabbat (the day of rest) and I was watching the
trees. Forgive me if I’ve told you this story or used these words, but it’s the
best I can do. The movement of the leaves, the undulation of the trees – I had
a moment when I felt like there was more order to the shining glints and waves
than there was chaos. But too that there was just enough chaos to make it live.
Too ordered to be chaos, too chaotic to be strict – this was my first known
experience that there must be something out there greater than myself – a G-d,
an order, a “reason,” a constant.
For me, being Jewish has (perhaps ironically considering world history) helped to save
my life. I’ve written here before and said before that for me, Judaism was a
thread throughout my life, it was just always there. Something to touch base
to, to hold on to, to get in touch with when everything else seems or feels
unknown. When I was in high school, I was not the most popular or friend-having
girl – shy, awkward, like many, I began making friends through the Jewish
community outside of high school, and began to really form my personality,
without the constraints or assumptions of people in school who had known me for
years as shy & awkward. I began to be funny, more outgoing, social. In a lot of ways, I
credit making those friendships, having met these other kids through a weekly
Jewish high school program, for helping me to survive those terribly isolating
years.
When I was living in South Korea, somehow I got hooked up
with another Jew through friends who told me about a Passover seder that was
happening on the American Army base, and I attended the seder there, with the
booklet we read from in Hebrew, English, and Korean – it was very weird, but
also, very very home.
When I arrived in San Francisco, through a series of
coincidences, I found myself a good friend of an Orthodox Jewish rabbi and his
family, who invited me to Shabbat lunches in their home, holiday services, and
generally took me under their Jewish wing. Although their religious adherences
are far more “observant” than I want to be, I love them, and they love me.
And finally, let’s not forget typing “Jewish San Francisco”
into google when I was desperate for a job, and ended up working for a Jewish
Educational non-profit recently. And last year, as I moved to Oakland, and
wanted to keep my toe “in the Jewish waters”, I began to teach 5th&6th
grade at a congregational school in Berkeley on Saturday mornings.
But, mostly, what reminds me of the unique strength of my
connection to this history, community, path, and identity, is when I went with
my friend Barb recently to a “young adult service” at a contemporary Reform
synagogue in SF. As I was raised with my high school Jewish community with song
leaders, and clapping, and laughing, and foot stomping, and singing in rounds,
and levity, this is what was reminded in me at that service. There were
guitars, and perhaps a tambourine – Jews love their acoustic guitars! And
then, there were voices.
A congregant gave a little speech during the service,
and he basically told my story. About how he is connected to this community
through song – how he’d forgotten his voice, and remembers it here. And he
cried a little with gratitude, and we all felt it. And my friend Barb and I
commented afterward that there’s a spiritual community she and I have in common
outside of Judaism, but then, there, here, we get to connect to, perhaps not
something “else”, but something more, much much more. Deeper, as if through our
outside community, we get to experience a spirituality that is skin deep, but
through this Jewish connection, we get it in our bones. In the roots of our
family trees. In the dirt of earth 6000 years old.
And as we sang that day a few months ago, I remembered the
sunlight of Judaism. Of Jewish community. It’s not the laws, the rules, the
Bible (which I have issues with, but it doesn’t really matter) –it’s that
swept-away feeling. It’s the feeling of certainty and faith I had when looking
out over the Pocono sunset.
Why mention this all? Firstly, because it’s good for me to
remember that in some ways, I’ve been living without sun lately. And secondly,
because it comes up always when I begin to date someone new – the first
question out of two of my good girlfriend’s mouths when I said I was meeting
someone new was “Is he Jewish?”. And he’s not. And like I said recently on
here, I don’t yet know if it’s a dealbreaker. I never have. I know that it’s
important to me. I know that if I have
children, I want them to be raised in a similar way that I was, with the all
knowledge that my experience may not be theirs, but I want them to know what
bubbe’s matzoball soup tastes like.
Does it matter? Does it matter if your partner is the same
religion as you? Does it matter that some of the strongest and most powerful
experiences of my life occurred and continue to occur in a Jewish setting?
Well, yes, that does matter, but it matters to me. Does it need to matter to
the other person? Such is the conundrum of modern life. And not so modern.
Questions of intermarriage are on the books, the old books, for millennia. But, I do want to be able to
exchange bubbe’s matzoball soup-type memories. I want the shared history. I
want the shared experience.
I discount it again and again. And ultimately am not ready
to give up questioning it yet. Letting the guys I date not be Jewish (My
dad’s family isn’t, and I love getting “both”).
So, for now, the answer is, I don’t know. The answer is also
to re-engage myself in the community that I miss. And I’m going on a 2nd
date on Friday night, with a Catholic. 
dating · fun · integrity · Jewish · performance · responsibility · self-care

Bless It or Block It

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

How many things can one person wholly commit to?
I went on a first date yesterday via a set-up. It was
really fun. We got along great, and had a nice time. And so, now all the
‘What-if’s pop into my brain. Or, the questions, doubts. He’s not Jewish. Is
that a Deal-breaker – I’ve never yet decided. He lives an hour&a half away. I don’t
have a car – I’ve done that “medium-distance” relationship before. It looks
like – or it did look like – attempting to shove all the things you would be able
to do throughout a week into the weekend. Get all the fun and funny and
adventure and rest and sexy time all in the 48 or so hours you have together.
It was a lot of pressure to only be “happy”, and sort of exhausting. Plus, at the time, I also had
a car.
But, mostly what’s been on my mind since yesterday (besides
the obvious knowledge that I actually don’t have to do anything right now, as I haven’t been asked out for a 2nd
date yet, so … slow the crazy train). … But, How many things can one person … or how many fledgling things can one person commit to?
By this, I am considering my new-found and very fledgling
commitment to myself and my dreams. It’s ironic(?) that after going through the
book Calling in The One, which helped to
push me into the direction of performance, stage, music, following my dreams
basically, that now, here I am faced with a potential opportunity for romance,
and I’m hesitant. Is there enough of me to go around?
The next few weekends look like this: women’s new year’s
retreat in Napa, audition, audition, audition. Yes. Three auditions in the two
weekends following the retreat. And then there’s the rehearsal that will begin
for The Vagina Monologues, which I’m in
at school at the end of February.
So, … hence, “bless it or block it.” Were this gentleman
Jewish, living in SF or Oakland, were I a private transportation owning female,
would I, do I want a relationship right now? After doing all that “work” to
make myself available for a relationship, have I simply cleared the space for a
relationship with myself? Which, don’t get me wrong, is incredible. I’m
entirely thrilled and proud of myself for heading, however haltingly, in the
direction of something which incites joy in me just thinking about it. But, is
there enough left over? Do I want there to be?
These are the questions that arise after one date! But, it’s
not him, or the date – it’s me – what am
I available for? Beginning to take the most delightful and frightening and nail
biting steps in the direction of my heart’s desires for myself is a lot of
work. It is a commitment. And
when I began CITO, actually when
I read the preview pages on Amazon before purchasing this dubiously titled book, I knew as soon as I read “If we’re finding
an absence of a supportive, nurturing, committed relationship in our lives, we
have to ask ourselves where are we not these things to ourselves?”, I knew then
immediately where I wasn’t committed to myself, in this area of my “silly”
nudges, dreams, aspirations, desires.
So, now here I am. Becoming more fully committed to myself
and watching this tree bear the fruit. The fruit is joy, not the job, the part,
the gig, it’s the joy of watching myself head there. It’s entirely new and rad
and incredible to begin to remove the roadblocks I’ve arbitrarily placed in my
own path. (I can’t be on stage because I’m too tall; I can’t play open mics
because I can’t play guitar well enough.)
I’m willing to remain open at this moment to whatever
happens next. Maybe we’ll be friends. Maybe he won’t even contact me again.
Maybe he’ll ask me out and I’ll say yes. But, none of that is happening at this
very moment. What is happening now is that I need to get ready for work at my
SF temp gig, and I have some lovely Little Star Pizza leftover to take for
lunch.
That, and it’s time to print some more headshots. 😉
abundance · action · courage · direction · faith · fear · finances · Jewish · joy · letting go · life · responsibility · synchronicity

Effective but Wordless Chant

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So I did look at one SF apartment ad today. It was through
my old employer, a property management company, which is how I got my sweet
deals on my SF and Oakland apartments. Granted, it wasn’t a handout-out, I
worked well there – maybe not that hard, but it wasn’t that challenging or enticing, and
eventually I found myself overcome by the Ugly Cries (maya’s accurate term) in my car at lunch one Friday on the phone
with a friend having another job existential crisis.
That day I gave my two weeks notice, that night I threw my 1st pre-Valentine’s party, the following day, I went blonde. This was almost 3 years
ago now. My boss wasn’t pleased, but he knew I wasn’t happy –
that I wanted to do something creative, anything.
So that began several months – two, to be exact – of
job hunting. I remember I didn’t even tell my parents I’d quit my job and was
looking for work cuz I just couldn’t face their “Are you kidding me, in this economy??” spiel. It was hard then – I had notes all
over my SF apartment – “This is a world of grace and abundance and I am letting
go.”
A friend afterward told me to change to wording to “–and I
allow myself to receive” – more “open.”
Two years before that, I’d been “downsized” from a corporate
real estate firm, my first long term gig in SF, and was on unemployment for the
full 6 months. The first month? Awesome – yay paid vacation. By the end of six months? I was desperate. I began to
answer every ad. The very week my unemployment was going to run out, I had two job interviews one day, and I’m driving to one of
them, out somewhere near Bayview, and I’m in my car and I have this
mini-epiphany: I had every single thing I needed at that moment. I had eaten
breakfast, I had coffee in me, I had gas in my car – I didn’t need anything
else at that moment – no money in my hand, nothing. For that moment, I was
completely taken care of.
I forget what it was now, but I even began this little chant
while I was on my way to that interview. Something about being content and
caffeinated, or something? That afternoon, I had my other interview – at the
property management firm. And I got that job. The woman I was replacing
happened to be out sick that day (she was going on maternity leave), and so I
interviewed with the owner of the company – and we got along fabulously. (A big part of me feels that had I met the woman instead, I wouldn’t have made it through the door.) The
mug that I’m drinking out of now, he gave to me because he got tired of me
using the one that had a photo of his kids printed on it for my coffee (it was
the biggest mug!, What?). The one he bought has sort of colorful swirls on it,
and he said it reminded him of the tattoo on my wrist.
So, yeah, he wasn’t pleased when I left my job with them,
but, obviously still liked me enough to let me have parties in my SF apartment,
and to move here into the Oakland one on a slight deal.  – actually, it’s a really good deal, i
should be (and am!) really grateful – the rent isn’t that much cheaper, but I didn’t
have to pay security deposit, or pet deposit, so that’s quite generous.
Reminds me the theme of today’s CITO is generosity …
But, back to grace and abundance, and letting go – or
“receiving” rather.
I quit that job with the property management, and spent two
months looking for creative work, again. And finally what happened was I woke
up one morning and asked myself, still groggy from sleep and receptive to the universe, What else
am I interested in?
The reply came, Well, I like being Jewish.  … So I typed “Jewish San Francisco” into
Google, and applied to every position there was.
I got one of those positions. (Actually I applied to one I didn’t get, but my resume got passed along to someone else in this Jewish
education non-profit, and I got that job
– for which I was surely more well suited.) … 

Then, on a not so whimish been-looking-at-the-college’s-website-for-three-years whim, I apply to the MFA program, and get in. (Note, there: I actually intended to apply to the Master’s in Literature Program, but didn’t have a current academic paper, and am pretty sure none of my professors from college remember me … but the admissions coordinator for the English Department told me that the MFA program, I just needed 15-20 recent poems. How many did I happen to have recently? 16.) Nudgey McNudgerson, you sly Universe, you.
I dunno. I guess I’m feeling reflective about all of this –
about all of my “being taken care of” and steered into a more … “Molly” direction — because I have no clue what’s going to
happen when school is over in May. I quite imagine that it will work out well –
and I also imagine I’ll freak out a bit anyway.
But, if any of the above isn’t evidence that I’m being
gently but firmly guided, I don’t know what is.
So, Universe, Let me be receptive to the strange and unusual
nudges you have to give me. I sit here, in a heated apartment, with food in my
belly, electricity running, December rent paid, and I’m chanting the tune to
that chant whose words I no longer remember. Amen.

acting · action · Jewish · letting go · love · performance

Pulling a Carmen

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So, following in the footsteps of my friend Carmen, I’ve decided to post a blog a day, cuz why not. I thoroughly enjoy reading hers each day, or a few in a row, like catching up with a friend – and keeping up with people in this busy world.

So, can I admit that I just wikipedia’d adam levine – that maroon 5 singer, after watching some of charlie day on SNL (on hulu; no tv ~ not a california thing, just a … don’t have a tv thing). And lord, have, mercy. My god. That is one hot jewish man. And god save me, there are actually hot jewish men in this world.

Now I know you can’t chose (particularly) who you fall in love with, but boy, would it be nice to find a tall, handsome, jewish man. … and while we’re at it, employed. It’s been interesting – as a semi-result of reading Carmen’s blog, I bought and started to do the exercises in this book “Calling in the One”. Now, gag if you must, but I did a lot of browsing in the “preview” on amazon, and it seemed like it was up my alley – very Artist’s Way-style exercises and readings, and hey, why the f. not.  Now interestingly enough, I’m asked to look at what ways are my relationships with men a reflection of my relationship with myself – She, the author, asks, if we’re picking up this book, in what ways is are we not loving, nurturing, or committing to ourselves … and I knew immediately that there are tons of ways in which I am not committed to myself – to my dreams/goals/little internal nudges. And that is certainly mirrored back to me in the real world.

So, I’ve been reading this book, and doing these exercises – and shit you not, the week I was home in NJ was the week on “Letting Go” … I’m not doing it all precisely one-a-day, but reading, flagging, going back, doing the exercises on more than one situation like she suggests. And things are changing. Take a look at my apartment!!

But, also, I recently downloaded from the SF Public Library on eBook (yes you can do this now!), What Color is your Parachute? It’s a book about careers, career advice, how to figure out what you want, what you’re good at. And so I’m now doing the exercises in this as well. Because, no, I am not committed to my dreams. I am always embarrassed to tell people I sing. No one’s heard me (well, except Carmen actually, who once told me [after I’d just sung with a band in front of an audience of a hundred people…] that I was really good, and when I said “Really??”, she said, No I’m just trying to sleep with you) 😉 But more than just sing, I want to perform. I want to act, be on stage, riddle you with emotion – I wrote a poem about it once. About throwing you off the edge of a cliff and gently reeling you back in – about steamrolling you with emotion – and the fucked up thing is that I really do think I can. I really do believe that I have it in me to possess myself so completely that I might possess you too.

What a powerful thing is that?

Now, the advanced portion of this exercise, is to let myself head there.

This blog, I suppose, is a part of that. Emptying out my childhood home is a part of that. Finally completing the art project I began in July is a part of it ~ and I’ll tell you something, It Looks Amazing. Even I’m proud of myself.

I’ve been realizing I have a pattern of thought/behavior lately, which states that I can only have happiness when I have success. I can only have love when I have a job. I can only have a career when I … when I let myself take the hideously frightening action steps – even the baby ones, like call these two working actors I know in SF and set up coffee dates/informational interviews. So, putting up my artwork yesterday was part of spitting in the face of that belief – the art doesn’t have to be perfect for it to go up (that was actually the purpose of that project – was to let myself paint it, no matter how it came out – and when it was done – it was done, no finnicking with it). The art doesn’t have to be perfect to make me happy. I don’t have to be perfect to be happy, because let’s face it – that would be never. So, I’ve set up for myself a system of belief where I can never have love or joy in my life. And, in realizing this, I’m realizing how ultimately retarded it is, and I’m beginning to take action in the opposite direction.

Because maybe there’s another Adam Levine out there just waiting for an actress/writer/singer. … bass player 😉

(source: huffington post via Cosmo UK)