Ride or Die

BMW K1200LT You scored -4 moxie, -2 zeal, and 7 pomp!

If it wasn't for your image-conscious nature, you'd probably ride a Honda Goldwing, as you share the same fondness for bringing the spouse along on a laid-back comfortable highway cruise. (You're not a bad rider, but speed and excitement just don't interest you very much.) However, while you would briefly consider the updated version of the Goldwing, you would decide that it was far too Common, and spring for the snooty Euro equivilent. Of all the test-takers, you are the most likely to have an XM radio hooked up to your helmet intercom system.

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 0% on moxie You scored higher than 9% on zeal You scored higher than 96% on pomp

Link: The Motorcycle Personality Test written by iocaine on OkCupid Free Online Dating

Hitting The Neighborhood Joint after trekking The Suburban Shopping Mall

Caryl and I went to Towson Town Center directly after work because I desperately needed to score some birthday presents for Sarah, who turns 30 on Friday. I felt ridiculous with my large umbrella in tow, because the sun was relentless, and at that time was winning its ongoing arm wrestling match with the thunder and lightning, but I felt that the sky would tear open at some point...

My sister successfully returned an item to what I call a "young person's clothing store," then we headed to another such place to see if she could find earrings to replace a favorite pair of hers that had been lost. Score again! In a stroke of pure serendipity, she found the very same earrings and another pair in a buy one, get one half off sale... Later, another vendor's major sale yielded her a $40 skirt for a mere $5!

We were accosted by a kiosk salesman on the way to the store where I wanted to shop for Sarah, and unfortunately, we did not escape without purchasing some of his wares. I actually hate mall kiosks, but that is a post for another time(actually, I can't believe anyone would be interested in reading that, so I'll just skip it).

Eventually, I made it to said store and found a few items worthy of my good friend. While we were inside, The lights began to flicker and enormous brash crashes struck fear into the hearts of shoppers, who wondered audibly "WHAT WAS THAT?!" By this time, Caryl and I each had about 4 unweildy bags, and just the one umbrella. We'd already planned to hail a cab home to the city, but the fear that finding a free one in the torrent of rain might prove difficult began to creep in. Nevertheless, our mission accomplished, we left by way of the street entrance. I braced myself for a long wait.

But kismet events were the order of the evening. Not three feet out of the store, a cab began to drive straight toward us, just at the moment we left the mall. I signaled the driver, and we got inside as though this had all been previously arranged.

Halfway home, I realized I'd set nothing down for dinner. I looked at Caryl; she looked at me. One World here we come (who knew that place would turn out to be my saving grace?). In the half dark world of a summer storm, and the eerie resilience of the sun emblazoning the sides of buildings as in a Hopper painting, we walked to our neighborhood joint for solace, for a haven, for something hot and comforting...

Sharp horn jazz cut the air and the conversations of lovers and friends. Beer glasses clanked, forks scraped plates, the hostess cheerily said "It's Happy Hour All Night!" On the way to be seated, I saw someone I recognized.

One of my professors sat alone, bent over papers, a glass of half drunk beer making a ring on the table.

After briefly introducing him to my sister, I asked him if he got my last two e-mails... He looked guilty. I hadn't meant to put him on the spot. It had just seemed unlike him not to reply quickly. In any case, I quickly assured him that we could get together whenever he had the chance... then we moved on to our seats. Caryl concurred that he is quite nice to look at.

A Yeungling and a mushroom, spinach, & goat cheese pizza later, we headed back home. The prof looked up in time to see us walk by. I waved, then headed back out into the storm.

A New City Treasure:

as featured in Urbanite Magazine...

The City of Brotherly Love

I'm not sure why this is the case, but work-related ventures always lead me to Philadelphia. Yesterday was no different. I ended up at a conference with coworkers, that in truth was not particularly relevant to us as an organization, in the town that made Ben Franklin famous. I got a nice tote bag out of it (it is very nice as conference tote bags go), though.

In any case, I am glad to be back in the saddle. Michael is working on the third infusion of some China Black tea so that I can have a cup... oh, I think it's ready. Must go.

Among the many things Victoria and I discussed yesterday, one of them was my ambivalence about the Graduate Christian Fellowship. She gave me the simplest, most beautiful solution. Go when you feel like it/when you can, and when you don't want to, or can't, don't worry about it. Through her advice, it became clear to me that I don't have to be so all or nothing about this group. I approach most things with the idea that I am part of them, or not, doing them or not, saying yes or no... and in many cases, it is good to have your mind made up, but it can be very limiting to have such a rigid concept of one's place in every scenario.

I did not attend GCF last week, and won't this week, either. I have Sarah's actual birthday coming up, and a family wedding, all in the space of one weekend (thankfully a long weekend)and by mid-week, I'll need to have some tasks accomplished. I think I'll approach this social construct from the perspective that it's useful to me only in as much as it meshes with my life, and not try to create it as a formal structure in my weekly routine.

C-lister actress Daphne Zuniga wrote a feature for the most recent O magazine about how she always camoflouged herself to fit in with whatever man she happened to be seeing at various and sundry points in her life. The rush to commit, to be a "we" and an "us" right away, etc. I do that with organizations and ideas. I always want to step up to the plate, and I experience guilt at the slightest indication of waffling or hesitance in myself.

It's time to just let things be what they are, when they are, if that works for me. What a concept.

Power Outage

I came home from a 4-hour stint at the One World (Victoria and I always have so much to say to each other) to find the power out, and caryl, once again, bored out of her mind because of it. We immediately started brainstorming things we could do, or some place we could go. As it turned out, we just goofed off for the next hour or so, playing I SPY (which apparently I suck at, according to my sister). In a fit of true boredom, I began to dust, to which Caryl said "I can't believe we've been reduced to dusting!"

Eventually we walked to a hole-in-the-wall neighborhood pub that college students and locals frequent and had a nasty dinner. I had hardly eaten anything at the OW (too busy talking), so having the burger, a diet coke, (I have essentially given up soda, but wanted something fizzy, but not highly caloric) and two jalapeno poppers didn't really matter. I also burned 599 caloric units on the elliptical in the morning, so I had a nice calorie deficit going on already. My point is, I no longer really enjoy food like this (high in fat, absolutely no nutritional value), even if the pounds no longer pack on because I exercise them away. I hate how my body feels after consuming them. Give me some steamed broccoli over that crap any day!

We were so thankful that the power had returned when we got back to the apartment. The AC was going, the tv was on...in short, the possibility of having an evening was returned to us. And things were fine, until I spotted the second mouse of the summer in my kitchen. I think a cat will be extremely useful. This place is really going downhill, I've noticed. Several new tenants have moved in, and they are what you would call trifling....not trifling trivial (the word's truer meaning), but slovenly and lowbrow, as the word has come to be used.

All My friends

In about a half hour, I'll see Victoria for the first time in about three months. I've made her a mix entitled "The Sunday Morning Montage," featuring songs my Amos Lee, Ella Fitzgerald, The Be Good Tanyas, Duran Duran, Janis Joplin, and Bjork, just to name a few.

She and her husband close on their dream house tomorrow, so I'm certain that much of our talk will focus on that, but there will also be the obvious topic of a certain wedding. I'm actually looking forward to it. I always feel better after debriefing with her, but yet I understand that I must also be careful. She will be at this wedding, and unlike Sarah and Michael, and has equally important loyalties to him as she does to me.

I'm also looking forward to her arrival because it means we can eat. I am starving! I had a protein smoothie this morning before my workout, and I am now really ready for lunch.

Speaking of food, I spent yesterday at a wine tasting with Sarah, Michael, Sarah's parents, and Amy, a good friend of Sarah's from her undergraduate days. After that, we went back to S's place for a spread of quinoa salad, "asian" coleslaw, salmon with creamy tamarind sauce, chipotle pork loin, and a spinach salad with carmelized pecans and strawberries tossed with a balsamic vinaigrette. Dessert was an appropriately summery affair of lemon cake with peaches soaked in triple sec and whipped cream. Her dad made us all cocktails, heavy on the liquor, which is how I like them....I'll not even speak about the hors d'oeuvres, which were also scrumptuous.

I guess that delicious meal was my way of celebrating a 4-pound loss this week. I'm hoping to lose at least three more over the next seven days.

Am I Jaded?

I imagine that what people are the most capable of doing is hurting each other, vexing each other, disappointing each other...And I'm not in an especially cynical mood this morning...but it occurs to me that this is what we are all the best at.

In the Old Testament, King David said that he would rather fall into the hands of God and deal with his anger than face the fury of men, because he knew that God's judgment against him would be fair and tempered by reason.

I'm not about to go onto a tirade about how we all need to retreat to our respective corners and just try to avoid each other. We are interdependent. Someone else's actions will always affect me, in some way. I believe in the chain reaction of life. And I, too, help or hinder others every day. I am a part of this madness.

For the last three consecutive mornings I've awakened with one dream-thought. "I wish I had never known you." This made me think about the movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," and I have wondered to myself, all week, if I could, would I have my memory of the last 6 years and 3 months expunged? In truth, I feel that my life was hijacked and that I was a willing accomplice to circumstance in allowing it to be usurped by such stupidity.

Truthfully, I want someone to pay for that, or I want a cosmic do-over. I cannot believe that I sowed into something that has yielded nothing! And I do not mean whatever useful "lessons" I can boast from this experience. I mean that I am not getting out of this what I put into it... but someone is harvesting the yield.

My prayers these days are focused on guarding myself against bitterness, to nurture self-improvement, to really experience the fullness of Grace, and also, to remember God's sovereignty over all things. I am praying a lot....

But stepping back, and just surveying the scape, it seems that we are all just so ill-equipped to care for each other. This morning I said something to my sister that really wounded her. And I didn't have to exert any special energy to do it. I was just thoughtless. I just didn't get it. We are all offending every moment of our lives.

He who tends a Fig tree will eat it's fruit...

I used the fig body wash, exfoliant, and post-shower lotion for the first time last night to celebrate my raise. Catherine refers to any thing that one does to emotionally (or physically) pamper one's self as "self-care," and my work out, involved shower routine after the workout, and watching "The Incredibles" by candlelight was my self-care yesterday evening. My middle sister called not a half hour into the movie, though, and since we hardly ever get to chat, I didn't think telling her that I was watching a Pixar animation film and couldn't talk would go over well... so, I'll be attempting to watch "The Incredibles" again tonight.

One of a series of odd dreams I had... I was on a work-related trip and at one of the seminars, in the hallway, there was a scale that one could pay a quarter to use. In a stolen moment away from meetings and such, I attempted, furtively, to insert my quarter and weigh myself, but once I stepped onto the platform, it began to careen and wobble, and the digital display was unclear. I tried to hold it steady, so I could make out the different numbers, but only saw 170, which I knew referred to something other than my weight in pounds.

Silver Lining

We are no longer in a state of true panic, but chaos continues to ensue. One of the key players here at Command Central, from what I understand, may be on the verge of calling it quits.

This same person was really working my last nerve this morning. Apparently, this individual has not bought into the "poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine," credo.

But...

I found out that my annual increase is above the company's average. Almost double it, actually. I will express my joy by riding the elliptical even more jubilantly than usual.

As to other sources of joy... not so much 'happiness,' but contentedness, I guess...

I have learned that after the crushing sadness of heartbreak comes an odd relief.

A few months ago, my manager told me about the new guy we were hiring--she said he represented very well, and thought me might be a potentially good catch for me. Fast forward to today. In our daily morning meeting she told our team that Friday is his last day. He's following his heart down south where some woman who's got him all sprung waits...

All I can say is: Thank God I wasn't actually invested in what she told me (or interested in him once he arrived), because I'd be pretty disappointed right about now, huh?

In other news, we are still racing around like headless chickens here at command central. Suddenly, all kinds of people are doing all kinds of pinch hitting, jobs for which they are not qualified. I beg of corporate. Please learn the value of lead time.

Confession:

I'm vacillating on the cat issue.

New Shoes!

I've needed new shoes for at least six months, and on Saturday, along with some other purchases, I scored a new pair of chocolate brown New Balance athletic shoes with white soles (They remind me of a brownie and vanilla ice cream combo dessert plate),and some new brown casual shoes, suitable for work and outings about town.

Bath & Body Works is having their semi-annual 75% off sale, and I spent a mint there. I've wanted to try the Fig Body Wash and Body Scrub, so on Friday night, prior to the Os game, I picked up one of each from the store in the Galleria Mall. The next day, however, I found myself at a bigger B&B works at the Towson Town Centre, where I bought the Fig Lotion (and some Cocoa lotion since this line was buy one, get one free), Coconut Lime Verbena body oil spray (which the store at the Inner Harbor did not have), among other goodies, like 2 Coconut Lime Verbena pillar candles, and a very basic black bag, which was marked down from about 35 dollars to 8 dollars.

After dropping this cash, Sarah and I went to see The Perfect Man, an utterly forgettable Hilary Duff vehicle, which I only went to see because I like Chris Noth, whose part wasn't nearly big enough in this cute, but unimportant film. Oh, and Heather Locklear's botox is showing!

On Sunday, after the gym (was discouraged at this week's weigh-in. No loss this time.), Caryl and I did four loads of laundry (2 of hers, 2 mine), then finished just in time to go to dinner with My mom and Jim. Then, we caught the 7:30 showing of Cinderella Man.

Thus begins another week. I'm hoping to hit the gym every night this week and recover from last week's slump (brought on by work lunches and meals out).

Vintage Baltimore

The Os did not trounce anyone, but lost by 2, I believe.

The evening itself was temperate--so mild for June--and the air of the ballpark smelled like the sweetness of cotton candy, the earthiness of hopps, and the full savory sweet aroma of hot dogs. The camaraderie was thick between perfect strangers as we yelled out the names of each player when it was his turn at bat, scolded them for striking out, and hissed at a game attendant who would not give an Os outfielder back a ball that could have prevented the Rockies from scoring a home run.

The mother and daughter sitting behind me kept up a lively dialogue all night in which the daughter called several of our players worthless, proclaiming they'd "done crap" all season. The mother vascillated between imploring her to be more forgiving, and yelling at the top of her lungs "DO NOT STRIKE OUT!" when one of the players, namely Sammy Sosa, who was having a crap night to end all crap nights, got up to bat.

I don't follow baseball (or any sport, really), but I love live sporting events... the music, the drama, the audience participation. At the risk of being overly dramatic, it was beautiful to be sitting there with 49,999 other people all rooting for the same thing, all of them loving Baltimore and the Os. There was no place else I would have rather been.

My sister and I were able to attend this game thanks totally to the kindness of a friend from College days, whom I'll call E. She had extra tix and wanted some company. Her generosity was further extended when after the game, we walked from Camden Yards to Little Italy (where she'd parked her car) and visited a restauranteur friend of hers who runs a venerable establishment there. He made us calamari and antipasti at 11:30 at night. We sat in this beautiful place, talking and laughing, and eating like royalty to the haunting, lonesome sound of Billie Holiday's voice--her sadness and our contentedness, incongruous.

In an Office Space like scenario, I was asked to come in to work today. We did not meet our deadline, through no fault of our own, and now it's time to "play catch up." Even though I didn't get into bed until 1 a.m., I woke up wide awake at 6:45,
and made it into the job an hour later. I'm leaving at noon, then it's off to have some sort of adventure with Sarah.

Sizzling

Mad Hot Ballroom was fun, inspirational, and triumphant without being too heavy handed. It is a documentary (a favourite genre of mine), so the sense of attachment I felt regarding the outcome of the competitions for the kids profiled was very strong. I loved hearing that New York accent in full force coming from 9, 10, and 11 year olds. And may I just say that so many of the little boys, who hail originally from the Dominican Republic, but have landed in one of the five boroughs, are simply beautiful? Their faces are like art. All the kids featured have tremendous character. Check it out, at least on DVD (when the time comes), if you can.

After the movie, Caryl and I got a cab back to our little city apartment. She worked on a song; I did the tension band routine. Shortly after that we both went to bed.

Tonight, the busy day at work (deadline!)behind us, we're going to an Os game. Hopefully the Birds will trounce the Colorado Rockies.

Christian Community: The Glass Ceiling

It is unspoken,and perhaps undetected by most. As a black woman, often the only one, or one of few in most of the social circles I frequent, it sometimes dawns on me that my chances for partnering up with a likeminded gentleman are slim. In most cases, as I've mentioned in previous entries, race is not a salient identifier for me. I am who I am. I like the people, music, and entertainment that I enjoy on a case by case basis, and don't feel the need to cling to a presribed notion of blackness to prove that I'm not a sell-out...

But I had an epiphany last night, sitting at my second Graduate Christian Fellowship meeting. I was in a room of mostly young, all white couples. There was one man there whose wife does not attend these meetings, myself, and an International student, who were not present with a significant other. The total number of summertime members is about 10 people.

My primary reason for going is the pursuit of Christian Fellowship, to be intentional about making my Faith an active part of my social calendar, as well as to be spiritually nourished during the week...to have Bible Study as a touch stone, but I also discern, intuitively, that I am too much an "other" in this scenario. I am not there looking for a lifemate, but I also know that the potential that I might find one there, even incidentally, is not strong.

I have been a part of some wonderful Christian groups and churches in my time, but I have also understood, in each of these groups, that I was the "really awesome" girl who is black. For me, being black does not eliminate men who are not, from my dating pool. But, I suspect that my race (for reasons that may never have been examined or ones that the men I've known may not have even been conscious of) has eliminated me from the running more times than I can ever know.

Beyond dating and marriage considerations, too, there is the lack of invigoration I find in so many believers nowadays. I'm not even talking about passion for Christ, necessarily, but it's as though so many believers have been shellacked in an acceptable veneer of distant politeness. The interactions are stiff, somewhat formulaic, and I find myself stuck in that rut, responding awkwardly to the painful small talk. Sticking out like a sore thumb because I'm not [yet] thin, [never will be] white, or married.

To be judicious, I have to state that within the circle of "fringe" Christians I've known the glass ceiling also exists. You can be intellectual, smoke cigarettes (or not), see arthouse films, have ecclectic taste in music, and follow Christ to the beat of a slightly different drummer all you want. Being a black woman is a liability. Race is not held against you, not consciously. It's even somewhat cachet to be a minority sometimes...except for when it's time to be paired off.

My primary interest has always been in eradicating racial barriers. I feel at home with people I enjoy, and it is frustrating to know that there is a point past which I can't seem to go. I'm there, accepted, equal in a sense, but not totally...

And now for a real blog entry...

Yesterday morning I sent off a four-poem entry to a regional journal's contest. First prize is publication as well as money. It's my first, timid step toward having a credible career as a published poet.

My next big hurdle? Finding a doc to write me a script for Zyrtec (I'm allergic to cats) before I acquire a feline. I just don't want to have to start up a file at some doc's office just to get allergy medicine. I don't have a physician on retainer at the moment. I wonder if a Patient First (Fast-health Clinic) will write me up one. I'm not worried about side effects. My body responds very well to medicine/prescription drugs.

Listening to the Garden State soundtrack. The work day is 2.5 hours from being over. Tonight is my second Graduate Fellowship Bible study. But before that, I must go work out. We had a team lunch here at work...Mexican...which was a luxury I can't necessarily afford, given my aggressive goal of a cumulative 70-pound loss by my birthday.

The contractual hottie here at la oficina is going on hiatus for the next six weeks. Ay. Ay. Ay.

Magically Delicious!

Breakfast this morning? Lucky Charms. The shocker? They're as low in fat and in calories as many of the healthful cereals I've been consuming. This is my sister's cereal...but as I'm out of my own, and have too much work to do to jet over to Whole Foods right now, it was all about the chemically engineered marshmallows for me.

I kept my word and did not go to the gym last night. Instead, I did the tension cord workout. I've been saying that I intended to roll that in with my routine, and now I've started. It felt great.

On or near July 15th, I am going to the SPCA to let a cat pick me. It's only 80 dollars for a non-kitten cat. I'd prefer a cat that is between 1 and 2 years old, with a mild temperament, affectionate, but not a primadonna. No skittishness, biting, or scratching tendencies. Naturally, I want to like the way he or she looks, but its attitude will carry the day. If I get a girl, her name will be Ella Fitzgerald. If a boy, then Kafka.

Personal Best

I burned 606 calories on the elliptical yesterday. My target goal was 30 minutes/400 calories until last week, when I decided it was time to up the ante. I like to pace myself, increasing time, speed, and distance a bit every 3 to 4 weeks or so. At this point, I'm wanting to hit the 40-minute/530 calorie mark each time. In terms of my lifting, It's my goal to target the triceps for the next several weeks.

I've gotten a nasty headache from nowhere. I took some Excedrin (that's all we have at work),because I've misplaced my drug of choice, Ibuprofen.

Still thinking about the cat...Ideally, I'd want to acquire a feline while my sister is still with me. I think it would be an easier adjustment to introduce a cat presence into my space when I already have someone else there.

We're getting down to the wire here at work. A major deadline looms and must be met by Friday. My review is tomorrow. I'm not really nervous. If there were any major catastrophes, I think I'd know about them by now.

On Thursday after work Caryl and I will go to see "Mad Hot Ballroom."

That's everything for now...

Tricky

Trip hop is excellent for the elliptical. So now I know. Not being very familiar with Tricky, I took a chance and bought his "Vulnerable" album. In the same BMG shipment, I received Angie Stone's "Stone Love," John Legend's "Get Lifted," The Garden State Soundtrack, Michael Buble's "Come Fly With Me," Duran Duran's Greatest Hits, and "The World of Nat King Kole."

It's not quite half past noon and I've already enjoyed a superior workout experience, now I'm wearing one of my sister's baby tees that reads "Don't Be Jealous." It's fun because it's so ironic that I should don such an item.

Preparing lunch is next on the agenda. A long-time friend is visiting today, then the Sarah-one and I hang out till Tomorrow. Miss Caryl is working on a harmony for a song she's learning.

Hot town, Summer in the city, baby dolls.

Stay cool. Solid.

I'm thinking of getting a cat...

Something like this one...

I'm starting to lose my patience....

With the fact that a certain someone keeps soliciting help from a friend of mine with helping him secure musicians for his nuptials...and asking this person to sing at said nuptials. I'm holding my peace for the time being because a)discretion is the better part of valor, b) because he is obviously clueless, and while ignorance of the law is no excuse, you can't exactly hold someone culpable for being obtuse as a pair of shoes when it comes to interpersonal relationships, and c) because my friend is loyal to me, and is having nothing to do with this ceremony without me even having to ask.

but the fact that he is being asked is getting me riled.

Look, while I wish the culprit no harm, I also need to be honest and say that I am not overtly wishing him well right now. I'm being cordial in deference to my own integrity and the friendship we once had, but if I have to lay anything bare, it's going to be war.

I just ate a third of chocolate chip cookie from Whole Foods. It was so good, I could've slapped someone.

Blackout

I met up with new friends from the Graduate Christian Fellowship group for dinner last night. They are an older married couple--extremely hospitable--and invested in getting to know me so soon, so of course I was excited to join them. The husband is a Ph.D in Chemistry. His wife is a cellist and has done graduate work in Music theory.

All day yesterday the air was sweltering and indicated that pretty strong storms were due to arrive. At some point during our meal, the sky tore open. I enjoy thunder and lightning tremendously and found that it added a nice touch of drama to this meal with compadres. Sipping cappuccino in the once-avoided-like-the-plague Charles Village (twice in as many days, I am tempting fate!)seemed to be the most delightful thing I could possibly be doing on a monday night. I even got dessert (most of which I took home to my sister).

Once back at my building, I saw that the power was out. I was concerned that Caryl might be horribly bored or ill-at-ease. Hurrying up the stairs (bumping into neighbors playing cards in the hall by the generator lights)to my flat, I realized I'd have to leave her again to go to the gym (there was 1 hour left before closing). We chatted briefly. I gave her the cream cheese tart (cherries and chocolate) and headed out to have another killer work out. 39 minutes on the elliptical and some light leg lifting, then back home.

By the time I returned to my building for the second time, even the generator lights were out. This time, going up the stairs was a study in feeling my way blind. I did okay. Once inside, C and I just lay on my bed with the window open. The storm afforded us a fortunate break in the heat and humidity. She was practicing a french song, reading the sheet music by flashlight. I admired my developing quadriceps.

When the lights came on, we whooped for joy. I took a shower and talked to Catchka before eventually going to bed at nearly 1 a.m. Working out after 9 p.m. is like a shot of espresso. I was pretty amped.

A lesser civic duty, but a civic duty nevertheless...

The MTA, in all its bogusness, is trying to eliminate the bus line (the #61) that is crucial to my weekday commute. I think not, MTA. I just sent them an appropriately-worded letter on behalf of myself and the significant ridership of that route.

Just when you thought that an organization famous for cutting corners and slipshod service couldn't cut any more corners, or be any more slipshod, just look at them trying to fall even farther below the mark.

Humility is enough of a reason

In pondering the state of things for the last several days, and taking into account the comments I received in response to Friday's entry (Thanks Quill and Catchka), it dawned on me that humility is always God's goal for me, in every instance. He prizes it almost more than anything else. Maybe there shouldn't even be a qualifier in that last sentence. The lesson needn't be any deeper than that.

We enter into fellowship with Christ most intimately through his sufferings. His suffering is emblematic of his humility and his humility allowed him to make himself obedient to death, even death on a cross.

Naturally, my trials, however overwhelming they are for me, are not comparable to his. But I know God can use it to shape my character. Weeks before the last time I saw g, after I had been praying "what is this about?" for months, God spoke to me very unceremoniously one Saturday morning. He said two words: Complete. Mortification.

Being human, I wanted to skip the "death" of that and head straight to the resurrection.

The Charles Village Fair

After a hearty breakfast at the One World (my seeming home away from home, along with the Charles Theatre where I saw Layer Cake last night), Caryl and I walked over to the heart of Charles Village for the annual street fair. I had been avoiding this adjacent neighborhood like the plague for fear of running into g and his gf-now-fiancee (both are residents), but I'm feeilng less and less anxious about such an event these days.

We scored some coveted DVDs from a used movies for purchase booth, then went to Record & Tape Traders where I unexpectedly found the black, patent leather clock purse my mother has been wanting for months! My limited budget be damned! I threw caution to the wind and bought it for her, cause, well... she's my mom! And when was I going to find this thing again? I'm sure you understand...

I also scored Amos Lee's album, the EP of which Catherine turned me on to about 2.5 years ago! And what is more, I got him for a great price. So, with the clock purse, Amos Lee, and some super fun vinyl recordable cds in tow, we headed to Eddie's Grocery store and got a few necessities. Hopefully they will see us through to pay day.

Had another terrific workout today (yesterday was also amazing; I was really 'in the zone'); now I'm home ripping music to my computer, and planning dinner while drinking the delicious Rooibos tea Michael bought me in honour of my 40-pound weight loss.

We Might As Well Be Strangers...For All I know of You Now (Keane)

Listening to Keane for the last couple of days has underscored the experience of processing my grief over g's engagement. Somewhere, so many wheres, out in the world, many someones know what it is to lose someone. Not to death, but to the simple fact of their life moving on, away from you.

I understand the steps involved in processing such an event, and I am certain that one of those stages involves thinking, obsessively, over all the loose ends...all the ways in which the outcome one expected/hoped for, was horribly misjudged. Or, the ways in which the actual outcome violates every thing that happened prior to it.

When you lose someone, you lose the hope of having him. You lose the right to celebrate his birthday in any remarkable way, you lose the right to presume that you know him, and there is no remedy, because his allowing you to be appointed such a place of familiarity and importance is both the cure and the impossibility.

In Prince's Song "If I Was Your Girlfriend," he asks "would you run to me if somebody hurt you, even if that somebody was me?" The one person into whose arms I wish I could fling myself and to whom I wish I could sob out this story, is him; but by virtue of having lost the right to presume to even know him, I certainly have no right to presume such an intimacy as that. And I wouldn't ever presume it.

When the woman with whom a man wants to spend the rest of his life enters his landscape, lesser women (his friends) must defer to that relationship. It is a matter of honour and personal dignity. Ever observant of decorum, I would be the last person to violate this unspoken agreement. But I did know him. I did pray for him. I did yearn for him to the point of absolute pain. I don't want any glory for those things. They came naturally to me; indeed, no part of it was anything but a joy. I seemed to be born to care for him so wholly, so doggedly, and with more insight than I have loved most others.

Yet I remained unseen and unacknowledged. The very strength of my passion rendered me invisible to him. And among the many many things that I regret and grieve, it is that this love, so much bigger than myself, is swallowed up in another woman's hopes and dreams being brought to fruition, swiftly and decisively.

When I think about this, I ask myself: "Well, would you have him be unhappy?"

Of course, the answer is no. Focusing simply on his having his heart's desire, I can almost wish, actively, for him to be with her. These moments are my reprieve from the ache of the stone that presses into my heart. But would I have myself be utterly forgotten, completely cut off, the love that I bore him, which was larger, even, than my own life, stand for nothing?

It would seem so.

When I walked into the Common Room in the apartment building on St. Paul Street and saw a smattering of folk sitting in a circle, songbooks on chairs, it reminded me of any number of other times I have walked into such a gathering. The same harmless, cum ba ya vibe is present in every gathering of believers I have ever been to. Maybe it's time I stopped expecting Post Evangelical Christians to be edgy and existentialist. I've met a few of that fringe breed in my time. I fell in love with one of them. As you know, it didn't end well.

Because I have taken the summer off, I have all of my evenings free, which means I can finally attend the Graduate Christian Fellowship group as much as I'd like to do so. If things go well, and I make a connection with the members, then I would also want to continue into the fall, provided I have no Wednesday classes.

In any event, a weekly touchstone of fellowship could be a wonderful context for healing, and like an Alice Munro protagonist, I need to find all the stray parts of myself, coax them back into wholeness...