There are some days, some really long days, when I’m talking about the publishing house launch, about wanting to start a fair trade art movement, about wanting artists to get health benefits, and retirement counseling and respect – and the day adds up to these questions from people. Some are people I know, others are strangers.

“Why do all this work for artists who don’t bother to do it themselves? If they wanted better pay, they’d negotiate it.”

“Why not just use the company to publish your friends? No one else really cares anyway. Besides, only your friends are gonna donate to the Kickstarter anyway. ”

“Why a kickstarter? Who just give money to random ideas without any guarantee of return? Who does that?”

“Why healthcare? Doesn’t the Obama health plan cover artists too?”

“Why? What’s the point?”

“I think it’s a great idea, but who’s gonna want to sign up with an unknown for a fair trade price that no one will pay?”

“Why does it have to be you?”

“Why work so hard to start a company to publish other people? Why not just focus on getting yourself published?”

Then I come home, curl up in bed with a drink and think… with so many people asking those kinds of questions, it’s a wonder anyone does a goddamn thing that might benefit another living person at all. What’s the point, indeed?

Then I realize I only think that defeated when I’m tired, haven’t replenished my energy stores with any kind of care and I can’t see a light at the end yet. Some days are disproportionately heavy. I admit, sometimes the weight is hard to carry alone, and my belief in the cause and faith that it’s the right path will only keep my head above the water so long.

So a drink, some chocolate and an evening with a trash romance and hopefully tomorrow there will be a silver lining.

You’d think I’d have learned not to reach toward the online dating thing by now. But, yes, I did attempt to post a couple of ads last week, and regretted it almost immediately. Whether it’s a statement about my dating pool or dating online in general, it’s impossible to tell. Even the dates I go on that are not online related are still demoralizing.

I occasionally reach outside the Portland pool to test other cities, and to be fair, I’ve gotten a few nice responses from European men, but then there are still the doozy awful painfully bad responses no matter which city I’m looking into.

I’m in no hurry to date. To be honest, I’m not even looking with any deep earnest desire for undue complication right now. Mostly, I’ve just been feeling the tug for adventure and good conversation of the male variety.

Also, I know on some level, I will eventually get called out for writing love stories, romance and adventure and yet, not making room for it in my real life.

So, yeah, I thought I’d try and get ahead of that curve, but as of yet have not found an awesome approach, or the willingness to keep feeling run over by male cheesegraters.

Conceptually, dating should be fun, right? It should be interesting, humanizing and connective. It should have the capacity for human interaction in a way that’s not till-death-do-us-part or i-don’t-really-plan-to-get-to-know-you-at-all-but-I-was-bored-so-i-asked-you-out.

How about – Hey, you might be a cool person, and I’m interested in knowing what you dig, and let’s do some fun stuff, and if attraction builds, let’s do something about it, but if not – cool, I like hanging out with you for some adventures too.

Why is that apparently so fucking difficult?

Whatever it is, I’m in no hurry. It’s lame that quality dating isn’t really an option, but it doesn’t break my heart either. There are adventures to be had, and I’m enjoying flying solo, so – for now, all is still well, which means I can keep holding out for some quality.

I’ll just keep sticking my toe in the water from time to time to see if the temperature changes.