My book writing uses so much emotional dude energy that I have none left to date and consequently, less dating stories. (Which is not entirely true, but for all practical purposes, all you need to know.) There exist some handsome exceptions. (People said my last boyfriend I would have made "whack ass looking kids," so I'm only dating handsome. My friends used to joke that it was my thing to date guys less attractive than me, which was true. I did that for about five years. It was a power thing. Then I had dinner with a smokin' ex and decided to throw that plan out the window. You only live once. You may as well wake up next to someone beautiful.) So my reasons for not writing as much are as follows: #1: Emma Dilemma is under facial reconstruction courtesy of another hot guy I know. (Once I made the handsome decision, the universe just started sending them to me in like truck loads!) #2: At the end of of my dude-drenched days, I'm fucking sick of dealing with guys. So far, there are no exceptions. #3: I feel strongly dissonant writing to the world about guys and all of my existential analysis of yadda yadda yadda. I feel dissonance consulting my friend on his new car. I feel dissonance helping my friend pick out Jimmy Choos to match her dress. Not because of the consumption- hell, our economy still needs the stimulation - but because I feel cumbersome guilt over the materialistic focus. In the end of the day, what does it really matter what kind of car we have or how perfectly our shoes match our dress? Who really cares? Except both exude personal style, and personal style is, psychologically speaking, much more reflective of us than we might think...

My dissonance extends from #4: My Euro bestie is in Haiti on a UN humanitarian relief effort. Her father flew to Northern Haiti this week to help perform surgery on Earthquake victims. #5: My very dear family friend was in a tragic, although luckily not fatal, car accident and has a painfully long recovery ahead. #6 While I believe that creating is one of the most important human capabilities, I can't help but feel that, after a long day writing, that which I created was made in vain. Doesn't the truly self-actualized create free of vanity for others to enjoy? If I can't organize my even convictions, how can I create at all?

But I will force myself to because without creativity, that building on the corner for sale is just another building on the corner for sale. And we can do better than that. Happy Groundhog Day y'all.

Emma Dinzebach