Falling Back

We missed Rita's. When we pulled up to the storefront, there were no long lines, no happy loiterers spooning gelatti into their mouths, no uniformed workers working the custard machines, but instead... a sign that read:

Thanks for a great season... See you in March :)!

I assumed that "open through the last weekend in October," meant the entire last weekend in October. I don't know if we missed that last gelatti by hours or an entire day. We ended up going to an ice cream shoppe of no repute (though it was good) for the last frozen supper. In a way it was more romantic to me that we did not get to have Rita's. It makes me feel grateful that I really savored it all summer. Now I can think of it as an impermanent joy, but imminently returning. There's such hopefulness in that.

After my groceries were delivered this afternoon I opened up the pumpkin quickbread mix and prepared it. Then I started work on my first ever macaroni and cheese casserole. Between my mother and Sarah, I have plenty of opportunities to enjoy it done up right, but I tried my hand at it this time. Not too bad. I have a way to go, but it wasn't horrible.

I am now half-heartedly watching "Adaptation," reading The Quest for Christa T., and blogging (obviously).

Upon reviewing my archives for the month of October, I see that on 10/1 I proclaimed that it was a shame that I had not purchased the coveted coat... that it was too late. Funny. On the last day of the month, I have it. I guess no one can presume to know when "too late" is.

How to Boil Coffee

My favourite method of reheating coffee is to boil it in a sauce pan. Last winter when my microwave blew I had to go back to the old ways--reheating leftovers on the stove top or in the oven. I discovered that things taste so much better that way! Who knew, but I love boiled coffee! The microwave is the metaphor for instant gratification. You may get it fast and it may be convenient, but at the expense of the superior element.

Today was a great food day. For lunch (skipped the most important meal of the day this morning) I had creamy portabella soup, crab salad (sour cream, mayo, dijon mustard, salt, pepper, lemon juice (a hint), scallions, and Old Bay, of course) and garlic and cheese drop biscuits. This delectable meal was my reward for getting that eyesore of an A/C unit out of sight and safely hidden in my closet, paying my rent and mailing off bills, and for tidying up the kitchen.

After that I attempted to watch "The Philadelphia Story," but got interrupted by a phone call--I lost my steam, temporarily, for cinematic pursuits, so I went on a long leaf walk. I collected some real beauties to decorate the foyer table.

I did finally finish the film, and have to say that I am loving these 40s era screwball romances. Hello Cary Grant! Now I undertand what all the fuss was about.

Michael and Sarah are on their way--We're going to Rita's for one last gelatti. This is the last weekend they're open until the late spring. Seasonal delight! How fitting to have a final taste on the night we all fall back...

Say one nice thing about the opposing political party and mean it.

In the most recent issue of Baltimore Magazine there is a featurette on a documentary of sorts in which an organization for political change attended both the DNC and the RNC and filmed several hundred people (some more famous--in the political sense--than others)saying "one nice thing" about the "other" party and meaning it, supposedly.

Just now, I am reminded of that couple, both political pundits, whose names I can never recall. One of them is a rabid democrat, the other a rabid republican--and they are in love. I think that is beautiful, but I wonder how it works...either way, more power to them!

With the country's most important election mere days away, I just want to acknowledge that among my set of friends there are many differences in political opinion, some of them overarching in theme, some of them granular and hair splitting(for the record, I love all of you the same).

Because I don't want my blog to be used for partisan politicking of any sort, I will say something good about both Democrats and Republicans. I appreciate and respect the "pick yourself up by the bootstraps, with hard work and determination you can do anything, everyone deserves a leg up" mentality of Democrats. I support the party's commitment to the arts, social programs, and their legacy of caring about the comman man. I respect the Republicans' historical commitment to putting action behind words--Lincoln led this country in an unpopular war, freed slaves, and aged the psychological equivalent of 20 years in the space of 4, only to die just when he might have enjoyed coming out on the other side of the horrors of war. I also respect the idea that the government should not be involved to a ridiculous degree in every element of citizens'lives.

As for the Libertarian, Green, Populist, and Constitution parties. I salute your efforts to buck the two-party system, emphasize change outside of the box. We need you, whether or not we know we do.

One final note... VOTE!

My COAT ARRIVED!!! (that would be the replacement, overnighted coat. the original one has vanished without a trace.)

His Girl Friday

I have several classic films in my Netflix queue, one of which was Cary Grant's and Rosalind Russell's "His Girl Friday," made in 1940. I watched it last night (sandwiching "Smallville" in between viewings)and was very impressed with the comedic depth, timing, and substance of the film. I also received "The Philadelphia Story," which I believe I will save for Saturday morning (some movies are Saturday morning movies, have you noticed that?) and "Lost in Translation," which I will watch tonight.

I have been pushing the echinacea hard for the last couple of days. I feel my immune system wanting to cave due to the stress I've been under and the lack of a good night's sleep. Last week's ailment was neck tension. Now, in the course of the last day, I've developed a painful sore on the back of my gum, which usually happens when I'm sleep or vitamin c deprived.

Well I'm off to read the news. There was a deadly shooting along my bus route yesterday. By the time I left work it was over and done with, but my bus driver had to detour a bit because a solid block was taped off, reporters and cops scurrying about...

After giving it "serious thought" the artiste has decided to accompany me to a poetry reading in early December. It's a student reading given by those who are at the thesis stage of the program I'm currently in. The idea to ask him to come along to something like this first dawned on me months ago--I was thinking of the various museum jaunts that he invited me to come to--and how much I appreciated participating in those outings with him. It seemed to be a great way to reciprocate and share something that is important to me, with him.

Upon the initial broaching he was less than enthusiastic--not caring much for poetry in general, having made an exception for my work. We had a frank discussion in which he asked me why he would want to go to such a thing, and I told him that from my perspective it had nothing to do with his interest in it, primarily, but had more to do with how important it was to me. I assured him that it was okay if he didn't want to go, but that in that case, he should just say no, not simply ignore the question. This was a very good-natured exchange in which I tried to make it clear that I was trying to include him, but did not want him to acquiesce if he was not inclined to do so. He said he would e-mail me.

I heard nothing from him for about a week. I almost e-mailed him to let him know that I was removing the pressure by rescinding the invitation, but I didn't. I think it's important for people to have to account for themselves, to have to say yes or no to direct questions...I didn't want to preempt my right to hear his response.

In any case, he called me about another matter yesterday, and in the course of that conversation he relayed that he has decided ("after giving it a lot of thought") that he would attend--provided the invitation was still open. So, we are going... but I hold to these questions. Just what was there to think about? Where is the gray area in "do you want to go to a poetry reading?" I guess it's just foreign to me when people have to weigh things like that, because I know immediately if I want to/will do something or if I won't/am not interested. His deliberation gave the whole situation such an odd weight.

Ah well. Just another chapter in the very weird book of this friendship.

I turned in my paper on The Woman in the Dunes during the class break, and for the first time, I had to go right up to the instructor and speak to him about a practical matter... a new, relative intimacy, however academic, given that up to that point our entire relationship consisted of the comments I've made to the class as a whole.

I said nothing during the discussion tonight, not having finished the book (because I didn't connect with it very much). I missed some hand outs last week, so the instructor gave me his books to read between tonight and next week.

The Haves and the Have Nots

The Writing Seminars Students at Hopkins (the full-time, extremely competitive counterpart to my part-time M.A. in Writing program, program) give weekly readings on Monday evenings. Last night's was the first I attended with my Poetry Workshop class. The reading was held just two floors up from where my PW and Lit classes usually meet, and it was readily apparent upon entering what the other difference is between the two degree tracks. Being a full-time grad student means sitting in oak-paneled rooms that have paintings on the walls. It means sitting in comfortable chairs. Downstairs in the dungeon of the majestic hall where my lit and poetry classes are held it looks like something out of "Welcome Back, Kotter!" or any other generic high school sit com.

My PW instructor actually brought this up. She is a former Writing Sems student, and also taught in the program after she graduated, so her comment was not coming from a bitterness at being left out. And I bring it up here, not so much because the difference bothers me, personally (at least I don't think it does), but because it says so much about how the University feels.

Maybe it's okay to differentiate between those who are paying thousands more a year, who made the cut into one of 5 slots that are available per year (Fall admission only), as opposed to those admitted via rolling admission, into a significantly less competitive program. You get what you pay for, I suppose.

Some things happen on schedule, thank God. I came home to find that my windows had,indeed, been replaced. The old, jerky vintage ones replaced with well-sealed, fluidly opening and closing ones. It was probably 10 degrees warmer inside when I came in than it would normally be these days. Last night, it was downright frigid. Additionally, I had both of the ac units removed, so that will also cut down on the draft.

I put everything back in order after I got in from class tonight, and feel more centered now that the paintings are back on the walls, the couches uncovered, and the curtains rehung.

In another stroke of good fortune, the elevator in my building was also fixed--so I didn't have to schlep my self and my belongings up 4 flights of stairs as I have for the last couple of days.

I am presently calling up the vendor daily to ask them where exactly my coat is. I set it up so that it would be sent to me at my job, figuring UPS would be the courier, and knowing the delivery would be impossible to miss that way. Well, this company uses an ineffective 2-party system. The postal service via DHL. Clearly, someone's cousin works in somebody's office, and that's how they got harangued into going with that outfit. I paid about 15 dollars for shipping on a coat that supposedly got delivered via DHL to the post office 5 days ago. It has yet to make it to me. I called the post office this morning and was told that I should call back tomorrow if I still don't have it. I tried to stress to this person with whom I spoke that an unreasonable amount of lag time had already passed.

The reps at the vendor's headquarters are making an effort at being helpful, but it is clear to me that it has not yet dawned on them that they are culpable since they have a significant amount of my money, and I do not have their product. The whole thing has been stressing me out. If I don't have what I ordered by Wednesday, I will be asking them to send me another one, free of charge, overnight.

Dismantling

The management company who owns the apartment building I live in is replacing the windows. Translation? Move everything you care about, even remotely, as far away from your windows as possible. Essentially, I have stripped my living room down to bare bones, have filled my "foyer" with G's paintings, my end table, photos, curtains, curtain rods, etc. I have pushed my couch and love seat as far away from the two window units as possible, covered them with sheets, etc.

As for the bedroom, I have similarly rearranged things, shifting all the furniture to one side of the room. The small bookshelf that holds all my cds is now in the hallway between the bedroom and the foyer. It looks like I've just moved in, or that I am preparing to move out...

What this inconvenience (for the sake of progress) has shown me is that I have come a long way. As I was forced to remove the layers of personal touches I've added to this space, I see just how much of my own vision I have brought to the picture--this apartment is really infused with my personality. So many little things I'd lost sight of...things I collected out of context, not knowing just how well they would all come together to form the picture I'd had in my mind, but could not previously articulate.

I hope that by this time tomorrow I will have been able to start putting it all to rights again. Due to a scheduling glitch, my poetry workshop is meeting tomorrow instead of on Thursday (my class is going to go to a reading that is being held on campus). I will miss my beloved UPN line up and the time I could have invested in tidying up my place, but it will be nice to shake things up a bit. I'm getting too used to my schedule... too stuck in my rut of routine events.

Maybe my coat will finally show up. I can't wait to wear it with Catherine's scarf.

You are Inspiration Soup!! You live to Inspire
those around you with your green beany, white
chunky, red soupy goodness. Many have come and
lit candles in your honor. You've inspired
them to become better people. Thank you,
Inspiration Soup... thank you.


What Weight Watchers recipe card from 1974 are you?
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An Understanding

A man pulled up to the corner of the street where I wait for my connection bus. He was poised to make a right hand turn, but was forced to wait for a stopping point in the flow of traffic. His little girl, with skin the colour of cinnamon, bright, clear eyes, and such an open face, made eye contact with me. I smiled at her, remembering how much it meant to me as a kid when I could get an adult I didn't know to smile--as though we shared some kind of secret. I know that many children have been trained not to engage strangers in conversation or eye contact, but when I waved to her, she waved back. We smiled at each other for nearly the entire duration of that red light that kept her father waiting.

Skipped

I had planned to bail on lit class tonight so that I could work on my novel. I know that sounds irresponsible, but the way I figured it, I'm in a writing program. I didn't have the heart to even think about venturing out in that cold, spitting rain to discuss a book I didn't even finish (Season of the Migration to the North). Well, in an ironic plot twist, I didn't go to class tonight, but not for the reason I laid out earlier. Toward the end of my work day I started experiencing muscle twitches at the base of my neck. There was no way I was going to class or working on my novel. Basically, I slept on my love seat for a couple of hours after taking a medicinal coke and vanilla vodka. A few hours later I took some ibuprofen, and now I'm on my second cup of tension tamer tea. Am finally fanning up a bit.

Today was a lousy hair day for me. I managed to get to work on time (yesterday I overslept), but was miserable for most of the morning--just too tired to think. I'm going to bed in about 15 minutes--a momentum of soothing beverages, over the counter tablets, and sleep are the only things that keep my tension at bay.

Oh, and new coats.

You are chill!


What kind of techno music are you?
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Super Size Me

I finally saw this docu today--twice--once with Sarah this morning and again this evening with G, who also wanted to see it. I'm by no means a fast food junkie, but I have always loved McDonald's...and I wasn't under the impression for a minute that it was a good choice, nutrition wise, but after seeing this film, it just made me feel that having even a bite of the fare will send me to my grave. I'm not saying I'll never partake again, but it grossed me out, like, totally.

I watched Mystic River on Saturday morning. Sean Penn's public politicking I sometimes find vexing, but I respect him as an actor very much. Even the usually forgettable Tim Robbins gave a credible turn in his role, and I was pleased that he (and Penn) garnered an Oscar for the performance.

At Target on Saturday afternoon procuring Michael's present (his b-day was friday; his party on Saturday evening), I also ended up scoring a new wallet and a beautiful velvet pillow and throw blanket with tassels on clearance. Today I went grocery shopping and I am so happy to have a stocked fridge and cabinets again with things like scallions, leeks, cheddar cheese, double spiced black chai, black beans, and garlic and cheese drop biscuit mix.

Now when my coat comes, it'll be nothing but bliss for at least a week. When I told G that I got it, he said 'oh, this is the coat you've been pining for...' and I was all like 'yeah, worse than if it were a man....'

I'm balls out for the balance of 2004.

All in Good Time

I bought it!

Time: After Poetry Workshop
Place: The boudoir
Lighting: Overhead/Bright
Listening to: "What a Good Boy" (Barenaked Ladies)
Avoiding: Writing out checks for bills

Well I seem to be out of the phase in which I need to watch "Down With Love" every day after work. Sometimes I go through phases where obsessive repetition comforts me. For me, that movie represented putting the 9 to 5 behind me and believing in a glossy, happy ending for an hour and a half. My love for this anachronistic film is by no means gone, but I don't need to pop it into the DVD player for a while yet.

Setting up Netflix threw my bank account into temporary peril. As is sometimes the case, when you sign up for a free trial, but need to use your credit card (or check card, as was the case for me this time), the funds are not actually removed, but they are held in abeyance for a period of time until the merchant releases them (they do this to ensure that you can actually afford what the service will eventually cost). Well, I don't technically start paying Netflix for 2 more weeks, but the "holding" of the funds meant my bank account was reading negative 9 dollars for the last 5 days! This doesn't always happen, and I didn't think of it until too late. Anyway, the money was "put back" today and I was back "in the black." I'm so glad tomorrow is pay day.

Mostly I can't wait to grocery shop. I've been existing on peanutbutter and other "desperate times call for desperate measures" fare. I ran out anything that might constitute a viable, filling meal on Tuesay. If it hadn't been for Gordon's willingness to share his dinner with me last night, I would have gone hungry. I hung out at his place watching TV (syndicated sit coms in the early evening) then we went to his art studio so I could check out something he wanted me to look at, and then back to his place for Smallville. I am such a martyr... If he hadn't asked if I was sure I didn't want anything twice I would have just waited till I got home at 9:15 to eat something meager.

Tonight, I chopped up a zucchini, sauteed it in olive oil, salted and peppered the discs, then put them into a pot of butternut squash soup with melted cheese. Delish!

Reaction to my poem I workshopped tonight was helpful, constructive. And to think, I didn't really feel like going.

You are purple. What a romantic person you are.
You're sentimental and forward-looking (those
are opposites.). You're a sophisticated and
refined--with a refined taste for chocolates and
wine (yum...). Tempermental and moody, you let
people know when you're angry. But other
times, you just sit and sulk. Alone. When
around people, you're a generous person, with
insatiable needs. You're a starving artist,
basically. You're enjoy getting into debates
over politics and religion with people of the
same intelligence as you. But you know they
can never convince you otherwise, you stubborn
person, you. As a unique person you are (not
to mention just a tad bit eccentric...)
well-liked by either a few people, or too many
people...


What color are you? (Amazingly detailed & accurate--with pics!)
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This morning I read a story about James Earl Jones's commemoration of his silent years. Apparently, he did not speak for 8 years in his youth due to a marked stuttering pathology. Yet another indication of adversity paving the way for an even greater gift. I am also reminded of Maya Angelou who did not speak for nearly 6 years (I believe) in her youth due to extreme grief over the fact that she was sexually abused, and she has become a prolific writer and poet,possessing a rich, distinctive voice, one that has been heard by presidents and common men alike. Toni Morrison's voice is one of my favourites to hear--crushed velvet, jazz, not raspy, but textured and deep.

Civic Responsibility

My name has been drawn for jury duty several times, but in every instance, until now I've been ineligible due to having moved from the province in which I was being summonded. In truth, I was always relieved. I saw the idea of serving on a jury as a burden, a complete interruption of my own routine, etc. My name has been drawn once more, and this time, there is nothing to prevent me from answering the call. I mailed in the jury participant questionnaire this morning, and will now wait for the city of Charm to let me know when to report for duty. I'm actually looking forward to it, and have no plans, as I had in the past, to get myself excused by coming off very judgmental and biased against whatever crime for which the suspect was being tried.

Today I signed up for free Netflix trial.

Disappointment

I had hoped to travel to Upstate New York to visit my sister--the other sister--the one barely mentioned on my blog because geography and a chasm of different experiences separate us. She invited me, along with my mother and a family friend, to come up to visit her in her apartment in NY next weekend, and it was really important to me to go. But, financial and time limitations make the trip impractical at best and irresponsible at worst. So, I had to call up my sister and break the news--over voicemail.

She called me back tonight to express her disappointment and to ask me why I can't make it. I just feel like I am destined to let that girl down in one way or another. She said she understood, and I believe that she does, but I don't know if she understands how much having a relationship with her is a priority to me. You wouldn't exactly know it by my actions, or the lack thereof.

I feel out of joint in general. My day of working at home was productive, and class tonight was fine (though a class member did get a bit testy during the critique of her poem), but I feel as though I'm at odds with my desires.

I talked to g yesterday--I called him just to check in, and it was the conversational equivalent of what I imagine awkward, rote sex would be like. You hit the mark, sort of, but at the end no one is particularly satisfied and you end wondering what the heck it was supposed to be about. Would it have been just as well to do a crossword or unclog the gutters?

He was somewhat distracted because he was trying to parallel park just when I rang him up, and I do give him credit for calling me back later when he wasn't in the middle of something to finish our conversation--but I realized (again) that we may have hit our ceiling here--or rather, I have hit mine. At the risk of being too predictable in my assessment, how different is this from Kafka's nightmare? Or, the "song that never ends"?

I'm not saying I don't want him in my life, but to what end is he there? I am somewhat relieved that I currently feel an active attraction to another man, but simultaneously defeated to think of it being just as unlikely to come to fruition as the one with the artiste (as he shall henceforth be known). Somebody stop this crazy thing!

I guess I just have to hurl myself off and hope for a not too harsh landing.

Category XI - The
Quidnunc

Though you don't fit in, and your social graces are
sometimes lacking, people like you because you
have all the information. Now, who won the
Nobel Peace Prize in 1952?


What Type of Social Entity are You?
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I'm boring


why is YOUR livejournal annoying?
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You are Schroeder!


Which Peanuts Character are You?
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A long time lover of personality quizzes, and inspired by a friend who was doing the same, I took the EHarmony Peronality Profile this morning. It is free,and is to be primarily used to find "love matches." Of course there are ways to avoid that element, and I have. I tagged my profile as "do not share," so it will not be shared with anyone that I did not personally e-mail my results. Of course I sent a couple of girlfriends the skinny, which was impressively accurate (I thought).

I did find it a bit offputting that they ask you to assess whether or not you are sexy. Of course I said "not at all," because I don't think of myself as "sexy." I think of myself as being intelligent, witty, artistic, etc. Anyway, I also showed a marked lack of interest in physical fitness, so I can imagine now the men they think would be a "good" match for me. Maybe it's a problem that I am always attracted to men, physically speaking, that are out of my league.

I'm looking forward to working from home tomorrow. I have a lot of content changes to make,and that kind of work is best done uninterrupted by ambient office blather and theatre of the absurd antics. Since Thursday is a class night, I'll be extra relaxed having benefitted from ambling about in my own surroundings all day. Dinner and evening prep will be very unhurried.

And tonight... I'm excited about tonight... Smallville will be on, which is now a weekly staple. What's more, I've discovered that by leaving work a scant 10 minutes earlier, I catch an earlier bus to my connection stop, which gets me home about 35 minutes sooner than usual! You can't beat that with a stick!

The Wonder of Tofu

Due to some budgetary snags I've had to do some economizing recently. Yesterday, before leaving work, I did some grocery shopping at Whole Foods--I was in "tide me over" mode--being low on supplies and not having lots of extra cash. In any event, I suddenly remembered tofu! Last night I pan fried seasoned tofu with baby bella mushrooms in butter and then tossed the mixture into some pine nut couscous. It was delicious. As most of you know, I love meat, and about this I am unapologetic, but I didn't miss it last night.

Am making satisfactory headway with The Woman in the Dunes by Kobo Abe--the next existential crisis on the syllabus for 20th Century World lit. These books have all been excellent so far, but I am so tired of the theme of [hu]man's powerlessness against an unseen, indecipherable beauracracy!

Monday night is a prime television watching night for me, and none of my shows disappointed...something else I'm unapologetic about? My love of a good situational comedy. I want to explore the theme of "The Modern Day Sit Com as a Kafkaesque Convention." Yes, Franz is still on my mind. Clearly, he's my conceptual lover this fall. Kafka, everyone. Everyone,Kafka.

Because I love this movie...

See new link to the right.

Morale Booster

(Hey, quizilla would not lie!)

Definitely! Someones gotta crush on you! It's
Obvious that this guy likes you, so stop
doubting it! If hes a little shy and hasnt said
anything, maybe you should be the one to make
the first move (If you feel the same way of
course). If you dont feel the same way, and he
has already told you that he likes you, tell
him how you feel in the nicest way possible,
after all he was brave enough to tell you.


Does He Like You?
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Now on to more serious matters....


You are the most important person in his life. He
would do anything to see you smile. Actually,
he would be the PERFECT boyfriend. Always
getting lost in your eyes, always treating you
like a princes and always saying a joke to make
you laugh your head off while he smiles at your
hysteric laughter. Yup, he is the person you
were destined to fall in love with.


What kind of boyfriend would you have?(with pics and obviously for girls^^)
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Okay, now really...

(I mostly liked the graphic for this one, though I don't think my result is accurate, per se)


You represent... apathy.
You don't really show any emotion. You can be
considered cruel and cold, but you just don't
really care about anything. This is just the
way you are... you're quite a challenge to get
close to, and others may perceive you as
boring.


What feeling do you represent?
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It only took 5 months...

From the time I inherited Sarah's old DVD player till now for it to be working along with my vcr, without the aid of router I bought. I have had two others attempt this feat, and the deduction was always that I needed some other cable or chord. I was ready to just buy a DVD-VCR combination (because I have enough films on VHS to merit the presence of a vcr for a while yet). I was convinced that there was something fundamentally peculiar about my television (which is definitely new enough to be dvd-compatible), et al. that made getting these three machines to work in tandem impossible.

No, not so. Sarah came over and inside of 10 minutes gave me the ability to watch a dvd in my livingroom on a normal sized screen while sitting on my couch. Don't get me wrong; it's nice that my computer can play digital video discs, but it was lame to have to watch one with a friend on my 15-inch computer screen a few weeks back.

So, once again, Sarah has done what no one else could with about a third less effort. She is now, and shall forever be, my sensei of all things electronic, financial, structural, etc.

In other news, woke up to go to church, but ATM snafu meant that I could not withdraw cash from either the corner cafe or the corner deli. Since I take cabs to my place of worship, I need actual money on Sunday mornings. I have never had the great misfortune of both of these unreliable ATMs being out at the same time. So, I just came back home and put in my last load of laundry (that I didn't have the energy to do last night). I am feeling out of sorts because I have lost a favorite article of clothing. I probably left it in St. Mary's City at the hotel a couple of weeks ago...

Grey Turtleneck

It is definitely cold this morning. I am wishing I had just bought that leather coat now, but it really is too late. Other things came up, the two and three times over that I could have bought that coat, and the moment has passed. So, today, I am wearing the grey turtleneck that is my favourite underneath my basic black cardigan with khaki pants and comfortable brown, slip on shoes.

I boiled the leftover coffee in the karafe (from what I made before leaving for class last night) and drank it over the course of my bus commute, slowly, the way I best like to drink coffee--and listened to Jill Scott wrap her voice around the topics of sex, old boyfriends, problematic relatives at a family reunion, and politics.

Now I hear the consistent ringing of a hammer on steel as construction workers pound a new structure into place about a block away. What will this day be like? I wonder...