Twilight

I've been at work since 10:30 this morning; it is now nearly 8 p.m. I love seeing the sky growing dark, the lamp lights in the apartments and the hotel across the way shining. I love the reflection of me with disheveled hair in my cubicle window. I love the sight of papers with editors' marks all over them strewn all over my desk, in an order that makes sense only to me (and maybe to Sarah, who's working steadily in her cubicle in the suite next door).

Speaking of Sarah, I hope she agrees that we should grab dinner out after we leave here. The ETD right now is 8:30. We'll see if that holds.

"Sweet Dreams" (by Eurythmics)
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused


Which 80's Song Fits You?
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One Week til 30

I had a conversation with an old friend from college days a couple of nights ago. She had her 30th birthday in early March, and she confirmed what I've been feeling for the last month. The coming of a stunning, sparkling clarity. She said "Kate, I know exactly what you mean. Everything becomes so clear when you are 30."

In this culture, women especially, are led to expect something huge to happen at this age--either crushing depression--or the opening of the third eye of enlightenment. So far, I am in the latter camp.

I don't know if I can do the feeling justice. I feel very calm, settled, and unequivocally sure about things. I have believed I felt that before, but there was also something forced about the feeling in the past. It still had vestiges of bravado in it. This feels pure and clean and uncomplicated.

It's as though I've been in labor for the last two years, and now the pushing is over.

Ghosts of Hair and Flowers

I’m staring into this cup of old dead coffee thinking about how my red gerber daisies gave up their ghosts in an instant when I wasn’t watching. What is the sound of a falling flower? Sunday dinner found me sitting across the table from him again, and I wondered in my thinking heart, ‘how many more tables can we sit down to before we both know what we’re looking at?’ I smelled the smell of cherry tobacco on his skin, I don’t know if there is any such thing, but it was all rain and earth and sweet, like ancestors, a coming thunderstorm in July. I heard the scrape of his jaw when his hand rubbed his chin. Oh that I were a glove upon that hand that I might touch that cheek Can you really say you know someone till you’ve heard him laugh in the dark?

I try to imagine that someday I may look and find nothing to love about these hours I spent, trying to give up the ghosts I’ve known, who have outgrown the trip I’m taking. So many people will not make it into this next decade with me, though I needed them to get here.

I don’t want to revise history, but I have to get out of its box of narrow definitions. If I don’t want to live my mother’s life I’ve got to stop bouncing checks, identifying with myself only by way of what has gone wrong.

I cut my hair for the wrong reason at 23, but if I needed to do that to find my niche at 29, so be it. So be it. So be it.

Ladies' Room Ettiquette

It is surprisingly hard to use the facilities when someone is singing Jazz standards a few stalls down from you. I am pretty sure singing in the can is one of those unspoken, but universally understood no nos.

Reflections/Commentaries, Etc. On Turning 30

Cathleen Rountree
An Asian American Perspective
Delaware Online News Journal
Essays/Musings
A Man's Perspective
Friends Turning 30
Evolution of Politics
Girl Posse

Riyo - "Logical Change"


What would your Japanese name be? (female)
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The Sum of the Years...

I spent so much of my childhood waiting to be old enough to really feel the things I wanted to feel, taste the things I wanted to taste, Understand the things I wanted to know, have the kinds of friendships I'd read about in literature, go to movies I would find interesting, have the kind of house I want, etc.

I remember being 6, I remember my 10th birthday party, I remember my 15th surprise birthday party. Likewise, I remember turning 18, 19, 20, and 21. Each of those years I had the distinct feeling that I was counting down to something...the day when I could see my true face, and recognize myself for who I really am.

I am now old enough to have (in no particular order):

Confronted both of my fathers for their counterfeit parenting
Ridden on the back of a motorcycle with the man I love
Awakened at 4 a.m. every morning for nearly a year to travel to a job I hated
Settled in a town different from the one in which I grew up
Overcome my consuming fear of dogs
Entered counseling to confront my own struggles with anger
Cut my hair severely short twice
Written insecure love poetry for three men (and a few boys)
Written unapologetic love poetry for one man
Seen 5 memorable snow storms
Been drunk
Been in a good friend's wedding
Flown to Arizona
Left relationships that were toxic
Called a spade a spade
Gotten over crushing heart break three times
Used someone to make another person jealous
Parented my sisters
Hosted dinner parties
Come to love cats
Seen friends younger than me find love and have children
Rebelled
Stood up for a principle
Been categorically wrong about everything
Been absolutely right about everything
Stopped fearing my emotions
Opened my heart and stopped fearing what I want
Trusted God to be good to me

How old am I, in light of that?

Sunflowers, Part II

Michael went to the farmer's market yesterday morning, and I jokingly asked him to buy me a sunflower (my desire for a sunflower was not a joke, but the expectation of him bringing me one, was not serious); I didn't quite know what to say to him when he showed up at the apartment with two, staggeringly huge ones, complete with smaller red-petaled ones rounding out the arrangement. He said it was a "birthday prequel."

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, Again?

I prayed on Saturday night that God would help Gordon and I to see the real version of the other one of us, not the illusion of who we try to be. I don't know if his coming to dinner was in any way an answer to that prayer, but he did sup with us (Me, Michael, and Sarah) last night. I invited him over on a whim to partake of Sarah's homemade eggplant parmesan. He came over at 7 with two Coronas, which he and I drank with dinner (Sarah and Michael are not beer people).

Michael purchased an apple streudel for dessert, and since G does not care for apples, I asked him if he would be totally unable to enjoy dessert. He commented that he was surprised at how much I remember about him. The remark was devoid of any favourable or unfavourable sentiment; just a throwaway comment. But it made me feel somewhat exposed. It's the little things that betray us....

But I have to ask myself what about any of this is clandestine? I've had his general sense of oblivion toward my feelings for him working in my favour, helping me to fly beneath the radar signal all this time, but what if he's waking up?

After our meal, we all watched "Hello, Dolly!" I learned that he and I both dislike musicals, for the most part, but he surprisingly liked this one about a widowed New York City socialite/matchmaker who is in love with a curmudgeonly, quasi-millionaire who lives in Yonkers, and has to paint him one hell of a picture before he "gets" it. I'm no NYC socialite (or Barbra Streisand), but thematically, it was reminiscent of our little friendship.

The dishwasher is chugging along and John Mayer's "Any Given Thursday" is playing above the sound of the hot, sudsy water.

I went to work for about five and a half hours this morning, then came home to a lunch of barbecue bacon pizza courtesy of Sarah, which we ate with Michael while watching a documentary on Slave Narratives. They are both at Trader Joe's right now, and I'm glad for the quick spell of alone time, which I almost never have these days.

I feel a tiny bit melancholy, matching the mood of John Mayer's "Covered In the Rain," which is something of a sequel to his "City Love," which also makes me sad, even though it's about the perfect days about his love affair with Lydia (who leaves him in "Covered").

Sometimes I wonder what I'm waiting for, if what I'm waiting for will ever find me out.

I'm having an excellent day, productivity-wise. I'm about to start editing the online handbook, but I spent the bulk of the day plowing through lessons for Reading 5. I was even able to have a lunch chat with one of the document formatters whose work I managed this summer--the one who will be continuing to pursue her Ph.D. in Literature.

I had especially lively e-mail exchanges with Catchka, and received missives from several other friends, too. Listen to me people, it may be old hat now, but Instant Messaging and E-mail are miracles!

Speaking of small pleasures, I haven't had the luxury of being able to go out to the waterfront to pray or to get grounded in several days, but today, just after 2:30, I felt myself being drawn out there--I had to get out of the building--and I enjoyed a really lovely conversation with God. It seemed that He, Himself, lured me out there for a little rendezvous.

So, what's noteworthy right now? Let's see... My youngest sister will be 18 on Monday (and it is also her 1st day of school). I guess that's it.

The light outside is taking on the evening, twilight quality that I love so much. I can't stop feeling deliciously content.

A week ago tomorrow I bought red gerber daisies from WholeFoods. I am happy to report that they are still going strong, browning only a tiny bit at the edges of the petals. They live in a vintage black cherry soda bottle, and sit in the sun's direct path. Like most people, I find my spirits lifted by fresh flowers, and love the way they can brighten even the drabest space.

Today Bina and I sat in my cubicle having an editorial caucus, really hammering stuff out, and trying to iron out the creases. The busy season at work will last well into the beginning of the school year, but I find that I am still happier than at any other time, with my work situation.

Tomorrow, one of the women that I manage will put in her final 8 hours on the curriculum project, and will start to pursue her doctoral degree in English Literature. That is my ultimate dream, but for now, I belong where I am.

I told a friend in an e-mail yesterday that I feel that I am about to be ushered into a season of unprecedented joy. I want that so much.

The View From My Cubicle Window

There is an apartment building right next to our office building. I have seen the same woman, three times today, come out onto her balcony in nothing more than a black t-shirt, to talk on the phone. She paced back and forth each time, and looked somewhat distraught, her hair in a messy ponytail.

Next to the apartment building is a hotel. Last Saturday I saw teenagers pitching unidentifiable objects (rocks, maybe) out of the windows, down onto the street. Naturally, I called the hotel and informed the front desk.

The Passing of Time After a Significant Event

I begin this post knowing that I am having a disproportionate response (a quiet one, but disproportionate, nonetheless) to Saturday's events. I feel that something important and somehow "monumental" happened, that there should be some type of ripple to be felt now, days later, in the greater Baltimore area (though I would settle for him feeling ripples in his heart). In truth, it was just Gordon meeting my sisters, and while that is cool, maybe even "good," It is not profound. People meet people's families... even people who don't end up being part of your life sometimes meet your loved ones, and it really is no big deal.

The days now, since Saturday, are somewhat odd and differently-shaped for me, though. I feel like I let him see something priceless, like I allowed him into the inner sanctum of my other life. It is not simply that he met my sisters, but more that he has never met anyone that is just mine. He knows Sarah because she is my roommate, and we were friends when I was getting to know him 5 years ago... but she is not someone I had to take great pains to introduce to him.

My sisters are from the life about which I tell anecdotes. They were practically fables before Saturday, where my life with him is concerned. Now that we've all been in the same room together, it made the gap between me and him seem smaller even.

There are a few more people that I really want him to meet, but do I do myself harm by letting him meet those I love, when to me it means induction into the deepest part of my life, whereas to him it might be simply a pleasant diversion? His meeting these people would be meaningful to me because of what he means to my heart... but I must acknowledge that everything with him is still only a theory. Conjecture.

I want to enter my 30s without the old tendency to create specific definitions and meanings for things that have no basis in the actuality of my life. But does it need to translate into his value system the way it does in mine in order to be valid to me? Can I say that his wearing a suit, though it seemed to be such a specific gesture (and a favourable one at that) given the circumstances, means that he wanted to impress my family, and therefore me?

Can I just enjoy that it happened without murdering the beauty of the event by dissecting it to death?

Can this have affected him no more deeply that meeting any other friends' family members, and still be considered among the most significant events in my unfolding friendship with him?

Caryl and I had a girls' evening out--we checked out the Tampico Mexican Grill that is relatively new to Charles Street and then saw the anithesis of domestic bliss at the Charles Theatre, a few blocks down from the restaurant.

Tomorrow morning I will wake up early, to the tune of my old commute, and escort my sister down to the train station, then I'll come back home, and if all goes according to plan, catch another hour of sleep before my real day begins.

I feel weird, like something I already know, is occurring to me all at once, as though it were new. Can you have a revelation of something or someone you already know? Can you relearn the face of the man whose face you have committed to memory with all your energy and strength? Is it possible that his smile would unfold like a crisp sheet snapping in a breeze, the image of it flying up sharply and settling calmly, landing squarely in the center of my soul. Oh. That's right. Yes. I know him...

Domestic Bliss

I managed to work through all of my laundry on friday night, minus a stray load containing the kitchen throw rug, a blanket, and a dishtowel that I saved for Saturday morning. My mom and her friend brought my sister Caryl to my place at about 11:00 p.m. I had just eaten dinner (takeout, yes, and endured an awkward moment in which the delivery man kind of propositioned me. I was wearing my bathrobe and was fresh from the shower....) and watched the better part of "An American President" (I love this movie, even though I have no affection for Michael Douglas).

Saturday morning was sleeping in til 10, then heading down to 7-11 for breakfast pastries and a few catch-all items. My sister and I ate Entenmanns's raspberry twist danish and drank Moka Java from Trader Joe's. Something about it seemed a bit parisian--having a late breakfast of pastry (albeit prepackaged) and sipping on sweet joe. I made a list of all the things I needed to do (and with which she graciously agreed to help me). We washed, dusted, mopped, straightened, tidied, vacuumed, wiped, and scrubbed like fiends--all while listening to great music. I felt very connected to her during that time.

Before we really got into the thick of cleaning the apartment, I went over to the market in what can only be called a "ridiculous getup." Essentially my pajama pants, a grey t-shirt, and a plaid Eddie Bauer shirt that I tied around my waist. I was on a mission, and I certainly wasn't going to bathe, don proper clothes, and really take time with my hair right before going out into the August heat. 'Screw it,' I thought to myself.

They only had sundried tomato ravioli, so I got a few packages of that, a rustic tuscan boule, a head of garlic, a couple of bottles of Concho y Toro (a nice, round Shiraz and a merlot, the taste of which I do not yet know), crumbled gorgonzola, fresh parm, pound cake, and peaches. I had already purchased Thai basil, chives, baby spinach leaves, portabello mushrooms, onions, and vine tomatoes from WholeFoods the day before, so I was all set to make something that tasted wonderful in my imagination.

Crystal arrived in Baltimore at about 4 o'clock (dinner was set to begin at 6:30)--she had come from work, and unfortunately spent a while in the city just being lost, having to beg directions off a crackhead... She was a bit put out when she arrived, but after decompressing she became her usual charming self. Magenta-tipped hair and all. It worked for her.

I spent the last moments trimming candle wicks, lighting them, and looking for smudges to wipe down, and getting a hot meal on the table.

When I opened the door for him, and I took in the image of him standing there in that seer sucker suit I love, with a crisp white shirt and tie, I can't explain how I felt... pleasantly surprised... happy... right..."I decided to dress up," he told me. I was wearing a black form-fitting sweater with my beloved khakis, and argyle socks.

He opened up the shiraz and we all sat down to eat my sundried tomato ravioli with crumbled bacon, chives, and gorgonzola. He praised the food several times during the meal, again later when Michael dropped in for a visit (and leftovers!), and before he [Gordon] left.

The dynamic between him and my sisters was good, for the most part;he had to work to get a word in edge-wise sometimes, but they loved him, I could tell. They think he is brilliant, funny, charming, and just really enjoyed him--which is important to me--because I take such delight in his company. It's funny; it's been a while since I've seen him be shy around someone, and it reminded me of how socially generous he is, even when in a situation where his own comfort is not at an optimal level.

At one point during the evening, He told my sisters he thought I was L.L. Bean, hitting upon my plaid flannel "thing," the love of New England, etc..... we had been discussing the truly awful "pimp" furniture I inherited from my sister, Crystal--how it wasn't really me, per se. I'm not just those things he called out, but they are a significant part of my personality--and in a tiny moment like that, I see that I am known, and I opened my heart a bit wider to him.

Crystal, needing to get back to my mom's place to pack to go back to Vermont, left at about 8:30 or so. Michael left after only a very little while, and then it was just me, Gordon, and Caryl until midnight--watching tv, nothing in particular, just channel surfing (eventually, when I got up to get a drink, he took over the remote, and I was totally okay with him holding it. I realized, strangely, that I was hoping he would take it over... What's that about?)

He left just before it began to rain. So I know he got wet on his motorcycle on the way home, but I didn't have it in me to wish he'd left a moment sooner to beat the storm. When I walked him to the door, he gave me the look (warm, intentional gazing) and just said "e-mail me."

I felt calm the whole evening (I used to feel very "starstruck" around him), but also excited. The whole thing was very grounding for me.

Gordon actually lamented not meeting my mother last night. Next time, honey. Next time...

Seer


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19 days til 30...

In about 45 minutes I am going shopping for organic produce for a meal I intend to make on Saturday night. On Saturday night Gordon will meet my two sisters; we will all hang out at my apartment, eat dinner, make conversation, etc. He has never met anyone from my family, though he has heard numerous tales about my mother, whom he is not meeting. That is an undertaking for another time.

I plan to make portabello-stuffed ravioli in vodka sauce with crumbled bacon, chives, and freshly grated cheese sprinkled on top. I was going to do a soup course, too, but Sarah pointed out that that might be too many creamy textures in one meal (I wanted to do butternut squash soup). I will substitute with an acceptable appetizer and salad. I'll have to come up with a summery dessert...hmmm... any suggestions?

Tonight I will do all my laundry (this is frightfully overdue), tidy up the apartment some more (this includes mopping the kitchen floor), and entertain my youngest sister, who is spending the night with me (the other one will come tomorrow when she is done with work).

The sun is shining brightly, the person I was supposed to interview at 3:30 never showed, and I can hear my cubicle neighbor's phone ringing. I know this day won't ever stand out in my memory after its sun sets. But for the record, this is me, 19 days before my 30th birthday, the day before the man I'm going to marry meets my sisters for the first time, the hour before I leave work...

Can't believe I forgot to mention this:

My mom told me about my stepdad's reaction to the letter. He interpreted the letter in which I very honestly addressed my own struggles with anger, and my offer of compassion (though not a relationship) to him, as someone who can relate to his struggles, as an indication that I am "still very angry at [him]." That's all he took from it.

I told my mom to please convey to him that this wasn't the point of my letter at all, but more to be honest with him, to wish him the best, and to let him know that I feel ready to forgive what can't be changed. I was acknowledging his bitterness and saying to him, "you don't have to be bitter your whole life."

During a follow-up conversation he told her that why I am so upset is a mystery to him since it wasn't me he beat up but her, and later, my sister. He then asked if I was seeing a psychologist. When my mother told him I was, he quipped that instead of "wasting [my] money, [I] should turn to Jesus."

I think any responsibility I had to him in this situation has now been officially fulfilled.

It's noon-thirty. I'm listening to a cd of the favourites of Chopin's nocturnes. I've already eaten. While on my lunch break, I resubscribed to The New Yorker (after a several-month long lapse), and e-mailed catchka about the shift in my paradigm about my self-image.

This morning I decorated my new cubicle a bit (hadn't had time in light of the big time crunch we were experiencing lately), and it feels like a more solid expression of me. I even sprayed warm vanilla sugar spritz in here.

At the end of the day I am all about ambience.

Oh, and lest you think I've done no work at all, I edited some overviews for the Exploratory Music course we're working on...

I don't even know what this means, but it seems cool...


you are an annoying "sassy" 50's
flashback scenester. you talk about dancing at
shows a lot but rarely ever do it. you buy
vintage clothes, and you listen to the faint
which makes you retarded enough.


what type of lame scenester are you?
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I am in the throes of updating my "Comprehensive Manual of Editorial and Automated Styles and Processes and Protocols." I'm in a better mood in general because I have worked out the kinks that might have clogged up my weekend, and I'm having a good hair day.

I'm leaving work at the normal time today, and have plans to replace my shower curtain liner. Does it get any better than this?

i'm turning into one of those high-maintenance people I can't stand...

for the third or fourth time in the space of a month, I have had to be the one to change plans because my schedule is too intense. Or, I have had to confront my feelings on an issue, and then let another person know how his actions affected me, or I have been lobbying my points at work, trying to get us where we need to be.

In the Bible there is a story of two sisters, Leah and Rachael. ("Now Jacob, he loved Rachael, and Rachael, she loved him. Leah was just there for dramatic affect.") Essentially, Jacob, one of the patriarchs, upon seeing Rachael for the first time, wept and kissed her, because he recognized her instantly. He worked for her father, Laban, for seven years for the right to marry her. Laban tricked him, however, into marrying his near-sighted, elder daughter Leah, whom no one wanted, when the time came. Jacob willingly worked for seven more years to win Rachael's hand.

Leah bore jacob many sons, and with the birth of each, thought she would win Jacob's heart, finally. Rachael, on the other hand, was barren. after the 3rd son, Leah resigned herself to winning God's favour instead, since her husband's eluded her. He wasn't cruel, he just didn't want her. When Rachael finally gave birth to two sons, they were Jacob's favourites, because they were born of the woman he adored--but before her body produced a single child, she had his heart lock, stock, and barrell.

I have this need to be helpful and productive as a means of earning my keep in people's hearts--as a child I believed I needed to work doubly and triply hard--to be a commodity, and not a burden, to my parents and friends. I always wanted to be the conduit through which needs were met, the means to the desired end, the one who came through, or could point out the person who could come through when the job was beyond the scope of my ability.

There is something intuitively good in that desire just as there is something inherently warped in it. It's hard to balance the scale between the right and wrong in it.

Today I turned on a new person to G's art, someone who might buy a painting. When I let him know he had a nibble, he enthusiastically told me that if he does, indeed, sell the piece to my potential buyer, he will give me a commission. I didn't tell him this, because it's not an issue yet, but I would never take any such thing for helping him. I help him because I can't help helping him. I can't not lobby for his causes. I can't not be concerned about his well-being. I give him my unflagging support without a second thought.

I want him to commission his heart to me, that is the only thing I would want from him. ever.

I know he appreciates my efforts. I know he's grateful, just as I'm sure Jacob enjoyed having a houseful of sons. But hard work has never given birth to love.

(the quote is taken from a song by the late Rich Mullins, "Jacob and 2 Women.")

This Made Me So Happy... (it's my favourite movie in the world)


Everyone remembers the 'faked-orgasm-in-a-deli'
sequence from your kind of movie When Harry Met
Sally. It seems that you're falling for a buddy
or have already fallen for them. Uh-oh. You're
probably caught between the possibility of
having a great relationship and wrecking the
one you have now. You know what they say, it's
better to regret something you did than
something you didn't do.


What Romance Movie Best Represents Your Love Life?
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My time with Victoria was awesome. We spent about four hours together, and covered all the topics I hoped we would--including G--quite a bit about him actually. I think for a time it was good to separate my friendship with her from my ongoing, internal angst about him, but today it ended up being right that we should discuss him to a great extent, so we did.

Victoria and I, not surprisingly are having similar unrest about the church issue... where to worship, etc. etc. It's something we've both gone round and round about in our own lives for years. I asked her all about what marriage was like, and she shared with me that because she and her husband are both introverts, she loved that she was still able to enjoy all the solitude she had as a single person, and that she loves spending time with Michael when they are both at home because they each "have their own thing going on."

Honestly, that is a model for the kind of marriage I want--have always wanted--a lot of independence and the solitude needed to cultive a meaningful interior life--but that I can share with a like soul--who will guard my need for space and privacy as I will for him. It makes the coming together golden, I think.

She told me that she loved me before we parted ways, and I felt so enveloped in that sentiment--and was able to give that right back to her.

It was a great day.

Oh, and I took bina's advice and just moussed my hair after washing today. It looks pleasantly, but intentionally disheveled, which I like.

Citizen Krupnik

So, I finally know what "rosebud" means. Sarah and I watched the acclaimed film last night while eating carryout. I had worked a full day at the office (happily, actually) and was somewhat incapable of much else. I didn't know what to expect, I just knew seeing "Citizen Kane" was something I needed to do since it is in the collective [American cinema] lexicon of all excellent artistic endeavors.

After sleeping for about 12 hours, and making my way through the murky pond water of several upsetting dreams, I woke up this morning, washed some dishes, and made the 20-minute walk to return my library book (a day late). I came home and took a shower that made me feel like a new person! in about 45 minutes I will get together with Victoria for coffee here, whom I haven't seen since her wedding day.

I'm looking forward to it, but I hope that the conversation is kept mostly to her life. I have a lot of questions about how she's finding married life, about her new puppy, what's just like she expected, what's different, etc. I want to talk about my work, which I take quite a bit of pride in these days. I don't want to talk about G much, if at all. I found that the connection between them and their friendship, and me and her, and our friendship gets too cross-hatched in my brain, if I let her be too privy to my assessment of the "process" with him. Also, I just don't find it helpful. She always ends up inadvertently hurting my feelings somehow. I think I am just too sensitive about stuff with him, so I'm really going to try to stay closed-mouthed about it all.

Well, I'm just sitting here in my bathrobe. I guess I should put on some clothes.

Picking up stakes

I moved out of my little cubicle yesterday, and left for one along the back wall, that is bigger and has a window. I managed to get reasonably settled in by about 3:35 (I moved probably at 2:45), and was set to work again, editing, and fielding questions like always--like everyone else there.

It made me think about my dead and gone sunflower plant, the one I bought in anticipation of the new space. If I had waited one week, he (for I felt it to be a boy) would have been right on time for a prime seat in the sun. But he never saw the sun in my very pleasant, but non-windowed space, and died over the last weekend. I came in on monday to find him already beyond hope.

It is a worn-out saying that everything is about timing, but it is still unequivocally true.

But all is not lost. I consider it a great victory that I was able to be forthright with G about my feelings, and that he wrote back, genuinely sorry for his oversight, and not seeming in any way "weirded out" by my having asked him to go to South Dakota. It very much seemed that circumstances dictated his refusal, and not a lack of interest in being part of the experience.

We chatted briefly last night about a practical matter (he needed me to e-mail him something). I was encouraged even more by being able to hear in his voice that things between us are more than fine. Not more than what they are, but decidedly, sweetly, securely, and warmly what they are.

And Lastly I War With Myself The Most...

My counselor told me last night that my "battles" are not my desires vs. Gordon's feelings, or his desires, or his courses of action. She told me that I have two warring factions inside of me: The natural inclination toward being open, and loving openly and the part of me that is motivated by the need to self-protect, and to avoid shame/humiliation at all costs. The latter has inhibited the former, in many cases.

This just in...

He wrote me back saying he thought he had replied, and did say that he can't go because of no time and no money, but was sorry that he'd not said something before. Pretty simple.

Feeling My Way

Theoretically it should be less scary to confront issues with him now. And in some ways, it is, but I guess I still feel like I stand to lose a lot of ground by being real. As a direct result of my counseling session tonight I decided to let him know that his not answering me about SD hurt my feelings. Not the lack of a yes, but the lack of an answer of any kind.

The thing is, we've talked for other reasons since I sent him the e-mail in which I let him know that he'd be welcome to join me, and he didn't bring it up. I didn't either, because the conversation was so specific to another topic, that it would have been inorganic to try and tack on that discussion. I wanted to give him ample opportunity to broach the subject himself without forcing the issue. I also didn't want to make it a big deal, because I still fear alienating the men I care about by acting like a pest.

I didn't like having to draw my own conclusions about the matter, and I shouldn't have had to.

I worried that maybe my question made him uneasy, that maybe he was felt that I was assuming something about the status of my relationship with him. I shouldn't have to guess about that. I shouldn't have to deduce the issue, whatever it is.

I've asked him things that were hard for me before, and he's always found a way to say no if he didn't want to, or couldn't participate. Why the silence on this one question?

My counselor reminded me that the points of misery are usually the points of personal compromise. She reminded me that it was okay for me to want my question answered, but that I could also assure him that I wasn't asking him for a specific response, when I let him know how his silence affected me.

For me, asking the question is the most difficult part. A reply from him would say to me "I'll meet you half way."

Making Peace With The Way Things Are (Ecclesiates 3)

Today was something of roller coaster ride--I can't even really explain why--But the object lesson for me is to remember that when I find myself needing to push something too hard that's God's way of telling me the timing is wrong. Even if the concept is right, my efforts alone are not enough to implement the grand plan, even if it is meant to be, ultimately.

This isn't about any one thing. This is the theme of my life, in its entirety, as I presently know it.

Did I mention that the sunflower plant died? I threw it out.

Let's Not Ruin This With Words

no response.

31 Days til 30

Each of my friends who've already passed this milestone have spoken of the confidence that they felt surging through them, the empowering ability to make choices with grace, without apologizing, reported feeling a new sense of worthiness as they sloughed off the 20s. The 20s weren't to be scoffed at, they assured me, for it was the 20s that led to this exciting fusion of peace and surefooting--but they were also over, and that was a cause celebre.

So I did something daring, but organic today (see entry immediately beneath this one). It's still not completely intuitive for me to do something of what I would call "this magnitude," and not give it a second thought. But I didn't feel unworthy when Iasked, and that's a start.

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained (AKA Taking the Bull by the Horns)

I asked him to come to South Dakota with me.

Devika looked magnificent in a striped dusky pink coloured dress, with a type of frosted (translucent) pink necklace setting nicely against her collar bone. She looked summery and happy. Any of the potential shyness I might have felt after not seeing her for the better part of a decade quickly vanished when she exultantly welcomed me to her parents' home by shouting my full name and throwing her arms around me by way of a greeting.

It was in that moment that I also understood the power of letters. Through out mutual faithfulness to postal mail, she knows about every important thing in my life, and I hers. And that has created a bond between us that is powerful enough to make it seem that I had seen her last rather recently.

I had not yet met her El Mono, and that seemed wrong to me, so this party was important for even more than just seeing her again. Regrettably,anytime she has been in the state of Maryland over the course of the last fewyears, we have been unable to connect at all; I also needed to be there to show her that I intended to delight in the truly important moments of her life, with her.

Thank you, Devika, for continuing to count me among the number of people you call friends.

On Tuesday I will be moving into the cubicle my boss initially told me he had earmarked for me, but then later changed his mind about when he thought that logistics wouldn't allow him to keep his word. There was a significant amount of back and forth about this over the course of the last week, and even though it wasn't set in stone when I got to work on Friday morning, I went ahead and bought myself a sunflower plant from WholeFoods for the new space, in faith.

One of the flowers in the pot is in full bloom, but there are many blossoms waiting to open up. I'll place it near the window, and the let the sun coax them to life.

I went to the salon for another haircut today--my hair had grown out a lot since my initial cut on May 31st--and I needed my stylist to recreate the art that she produced during our first session. My locks really were looking awkward and "in between gigs," again. It was messing with my self-concept. Connie (my stylist) asked me if I was ever going to let my hair get long again. I told her that I was sure I would someday, but that for right now, this cut was organic to me, my face, the "place" in which I currently find myself. She understood that.

Sarah and I just finished watching "Mostly Martha." I like films with subtitles. This was no exception.

In other news, I have been exploring some fundamental questions. I have allowed myself to wonder whether or not I really am in love with Gordon, or if my persistent "feelings" for him are more stubbornness than anything else. I have been pondering whether I am continuing doggedly in my devotion to him out of a desire to be "right" or to "win."

"What," I asked myself, "distinguishes him from any other man I've been wrong about?" "Do I really care about him for his own sake?" "Is his well-being, outside of the thought of getting to be with him, important to me?" "Do I want what is best for him?" "Do I want him to be happy regardless of whether or not his heart ever opens up to me?"

I'm getting there, I hope. I hope I am starting to learn that kind of selflessness, finally.