Anatomy of a first (and only) Date:

He was late, not unforgivably so, but late enough that I bought my own decaf cappuccino to justify taking up table space. I decided that I would wait until 8:30 before I gave up and left. A half an hour late means one of two things: the person is unavoidably and thoroughly waylaid or he is not coming. At 8:15 my date (who, I quickly realized, peaked in his not-that-great-to-begin-with photo) arrived.

There was an instant, simultaneous realization that this would be our one and only date. I saw in his face the mirror image of my own epiphany and I was...relieved. It is possible to meet someone for an uncomplicated coffee and to leave it with absolutely no feeling of awkwardness because it didn't mean more to one of you than the other. This is the experience of mutuality I've been waiting for my whole life!

If nothing else ever happens with this Dating Schematic I'm spearheading, this object lesson is worth the money I spent to join the site and for the cappuccino.

Once I realized I was absolutely free to not care about anything he said, I engaged him from a place of almost academic curiosity. His aspirations? To write children's books (he feels that the illustration doesn't have to be that great... it's only for kids, afterall... I know. Don't say it.)
What would stop him from pursuing this dream? If he got some girl pregnant. (He must seem like a real prizewinner right about now. He actually wasn't bad at all... It was a joke... I think.)

We migrated to the safe topics. Things like "Top 5 Books," and "So, what kind of poetry do you write, exactly?"

My personal favourite moment of the night? When I told him that my master's concentration was poetry and he said:

"Oh, I thought it was creative writing."

I thought about letting that slide. But then I said:

"Some would argue that poetry is creative writing..."

[Confused silence]

"...but you are probably thinking of fiction when you say 'creative writing.'"

To which he replied:

"Yeah... like, plot."

My second favourite moment of the night?

When I decided that I would only stay for as long as my drink lasted and then left as soon as it was finished. My companion actually ordered food, which was fine. Luckily, we finished up at about the same time.

We had been talking about what we each hope to "get" from online dating (we agreed that something about it continues to feel 'inorganic.')

I loved what he said when I put the question to him:

"Not a damn thing."

So, once I drank the last drop, I said:

"Well, my coffee is done and you're done... so, I have to be going. Even though you're not staking your life on this thing, I wish you luck." And I shook his hand.

Speaking of plot.

The next installment of The First Date Chronicles will go live on Monday night. That's when I have my next adventure in the world of meeting-men-for-beverages-so-I-have-anecdotes- about-which-to-blog.

Booked for the foreseeable future...

Tonight is my one free night, and in truth, I sort of wish I had some noble cause occupying my time. Too much time to think these days is utterly unhelpful. Tomorrow I'm meeting up with Sarah after work to procure some donation items for a local shelter (and then maybe attending a poetry thing on Preston Street...if I get home in time); Wednesday, I meet a virtual stranger for coffee; Thursday, I meet a classmate to catch up; Friday, I take the train to visit my mom for the weekend. I think I'm also free next Monday, but then I meet a different virtual stranger for coffee on Tuesday the 6th; Wednesday the 7th--manicure; Thursday the 8th--hair appointment; Friday the 9th--cocktails/dinner and a movie with friends. I should be grateful...and I guess I am, but thinking about it all so close together like that is a tiny bit overwhelming. I think I'll feel better once I get through this Wednesday. It's a little unnerving. And yet,I set the wheels in motion.

Feeling terrified usually yields a good result. I guess it's a good thing I'm terrified...

February Strikes Again!

I've decided that February is the month of true Winter Weather in the Mid-Atlantic (i.e., snow/ice/the twain of ice and snow meeting). December and January are consistently manageable temperature and precipitation-wise, consequently, I don't mind them.

Sarah and I were going to join some friends of hers at Boordy for a wine & fondue event, but the road conditions precluded it. I wasn't totally bummed (I have plenty of household/work chores to do, really), but what if my heart had been set on it? I think what I hate is the feeling that things aren't possible...

Before the roads became unnavagable S and I did manage to get to Wegman's for light groceries--and thanks to that trip, I am now snug in my apartment eating a delightful salad of mixed greens, dried apricots & cranberries, walnuts, and gorgonzola. All tossed with a sweet raspberry vinaigrette. Soup to follow.

In other news, after a manicure yesterday morning, I decided to get them done weekly. Fourteen dollars is a completely reasonable indulgence. My cuticles were not doing well, and I am no longer foolish enough to think that I will do this for myself. I'm not dexterous enough to manicure my right hand with my left, so the presentation is always uneven when I attempt the homemade version...

To protect my nails and hands between treatments, I've finally invested in a cute pair of pink dish-washing gloves. Can't have my polish chipping after only a few days.

You Will Be a Cool Parent

You seem to naturally know a lot about parenting, and you know what kids need. You can tell when it's time to let kids off the hook, and when it's time to lay down the law. While your parenting is modern and hip, it's not over the top. You know that there's nothing cool about a parent who acts like a teenager... or a drill sergeant!

Would You Be a Cool Parent?

'Round Midnight

Scene:

Interior of a city apartment, Kate Krupnik's office

Lighting:

A lone desk lamp

Props:

red glazed mug, a sheet of lined paper (with writing)

Character:

Kate Krupnik, wearing a sweater, jeans, and bathrobe

The Situation:

Miles Davis's 'Round Midnight pours from the computer speakers on Kate's Desk. She is not ruminating or pensive, though the mood might suggest something akin to social malaise. You hear the faint, unintelligible dialogue of a television program in the next room. Kate is thinking about the fact that men under 40 seem ridiculously young, though she, herself, is only 33. She is thinking of the crepe she ate for dinner, hours ago. She is mildly hungry, but will do nothing about it because of the lateness of the hour. The solution, she understands, is to go to bed.

Exit Kate, Stage Left.

There's a recent trend in my life...bumping into people when I most need to see them, wonder desperately where they've gotten off to, or when I am not in any way thinking of them, but am delighted to see them all the same.

About a week ago I ran into a former coworker (he was referred to here as "Editor Boy") on the corner of Charles & Preston. This morning I was running a little later than usual and when I got to this fateful corner, realized that I did not have enough cereal for a full bowl once I got to work. So I stopped into XS (coffee bar, sushi bar, breakfast joint) for something. There he was again. Now I know the routine. I'm running late, I see him on or near Charles & Preston...

I've already mentioned that the Sunday before last, just before this Ice Debacle, I ran into an old friend who was wearing a Key Lime trench coat. She waved at me frantically from her car. I had been thinking about her, off and on, for the last two years. Because I decided to go to the nicer market, I saw her. I nearly went to the other grocery store. A split second decision led to serendipity.

I was on The University's campus today for business-related affairs. This is in no way usual, and my needing to be there was a last-minute thing. But once I realized I'd need to go, I had the strangest feeling I would see MNFA (my now former advisor). You may be thinking that this is not really odd or serendipitous since he teaches there. But given that he teaches at night in the MA program only, to see him walking about on the campus in broad day light is something I would never bank on.

In any case, there I was ambling about and then... there he was. I managed to catch up to him and we had an exchange that set my mind totally at ease where the Drunken Thank-You Dinner (DTYD) of two weeks ago is concerned. Really, I was quite embarrassed, and though it was not likely that I had eliminated all academic and literary credibility in one night, I still feared the worst. It was hard to reconcile his affability with the fact of my behavior (as I recalled it with staggering clarity the next day). Needless to say, his manner toward me was just as it always is. But I decided to allude to the evening, just to totally ease my mind. I told him that I hoped he'd had a good time, said "I wasn't quite myself..." and without missing a beat he said "I had a blast! It was so much fun!" There. A prayer answered.

In other news, I've agreed to have coffee with two perfect strangers. Not at the same time, though. All in the interest of casting a wide net. Aggressively, but not foolishly, open.

"You're not listening to me; I said 'I love you.'"

One of the clerks at 7-11 (where I went tonight for chicken broth and milk for a polenta I was planning) is flirtatious with me. At first, I didn't know if it was true flirtation or just friendliness gone a little awry (sometimes I really cannot tell). I usually ignore it.

As is always the case, I had my earbuds firmly in place, Robin Thicke's Evolution coursing through my ears at full volume (he incanted that I could call him my professor and see him after class), while the clerk was chatting with me. I responded to what I thought he was saying.

"Fine! How are you?"

He motioned for me to remove my earphones, and said the line that functions as the title of this post.

What could I say in return?

"Thank you! That is so sweet!"

And I meant it.

I'll take someone telling me he loves me, even if it is based purely on my sporadic appearances at his convenience store. I'm in a generous mood--in the mood to generously receive whatever kindness strangers want to proffer.

Favourite wintertime ritual?

the nighttime candlelit shower

Most unexpected source of a credible R&B debut? This man's son.

The Associative Property

bolognese, bougainvillea, tryptych, portico, chortled, acquiesce, curmudgeon, careen, waylaid, marooned, crevice, copacetic, dicey, penchant, concrete, dramatis personae, parallel, inclement, indisposed, veiled, negligent, errant, plaintive, indulgent, benevolent, irreverent, forgiven, perimeter, driven, ambient, flicker, bow, edge, strike, mahogany, inherent danger, spaetzle, sfumato, small, coffee, regretful girl, equinox, solstice, fusion, derision, ironic distance, rilke, solitude, come, yearn, stay, intuit, core, happy, wait, against, gorgeous indecision, access, wayward, audacity, vulgar, crass, base, dementia, psychosomatic, hypochondriacal, remnant, integral, enmeshed, indecipherable, wish, sow, reap, release, behalf, plunge, same, slowing roses, a rain with small hands, a bowed-head tulip, espresso, ask, darken against time, dirty ice, crunch, pivotal, appropos of everything, which is to say....

Open

I mentioned, earlier this month, that each week I try to open myself up to things I've been closed to before. This weekend (last night, especially) I made the decision to step out onto an ice floe. I didn't intend to, but I blame the domino effect.

On Friday night, after the reading, an opportunity was presented to me. Sometimes when one opportunity is granted, it gives you the courage to take another one. Anyway, I'm going to stay vague, for the time being, because I do believe that talking about anything prematurely can undermine it. In the past, this is something I've avoided, or have only half-heartedly attempted. In the recent past, I'd stopped considering it an option at all. But last night, I felt seized with the understanding that it was time--that I absolutely have to be aggressively open...

This morning, being on such a high from all my other risk-taking ventures, I decided to go to church. Last Sunday, on my way to the market, I ran into an old friend. She popped out of her car wearing a Key Lime trench coat--looking for all the world like the personification of good news. During the course of our brief but happy catching-up conversation, she gave me an address card for her church. As one who has been churchless for months, whether or not to go is always on my mind.

I did not know I was going to attend. I did not wake up with the intention of going. At 10:00 am, I was watching "Breakfast at Tiffany's," and finishing up my morning coffee. Then I understood that I would venture downtown for the service. There was no question about it. So I did.

I'm trying to listen to my instincts--really hearken to them--right now, especially. My youngest sister told me, a few days before this reading (a reading I was ambivalent about at best) that I would be helped, somehow, by it. That something would happen... I chose to believe her. It sounded right to me.

My push, during the last semester, was to embrace fragmentation--that elusive, abstract spirit of language--and to relinquish the letter of language. The object lesson comes home to roost in a million ways, flapping its wings vigorously.

Round Robin

Last night's reading drew an edgy, fringe crowd. I hit my stride on my third turn at the mic. There were these two cats--not hep, jazz dudes, I mean an orange tabby who was skittish but curious (naturally)and an open-to-human-interaction black and white feline. She (I feel that it was a she) was seductive, comfortable, in no way needy. They roamed around all night, getting into the food, enjoying the poetic vibe, I suppose. Sarah and I both smelled like smoke when we left the joint.

Come Saturday Morning

S and I went to see the new Hugh Grant/Drew Barrymore love fest "Music and Lyrics." Enjoyable.

Ravenous

Neither of us really ate (I had a glazed donut, Sarah had nothing) before the film at 1:35, so by the time it was over, we were cranky with hunger (having liked the film aside). Good thing there was a California Pizza Kitchen right next to the theatre. We got appetizers and dessert in addition to our meals.

Light Shopping

I found the HEMPZ Rosemary Mint Body Wash I love so much. It literally tingles on contact with the skin.

Taking Care of Business

My Federal refund came through, so I paid the state (ha!) and another outstanding bill, ordered someone a present I cannot wait to give (!), and ordered some new checks (I ran out last week).

Looking for something artsy to do on a cold night in Fevrier? Check this out.

I would like to take a moment to welcome all relatively new readers to The Baltimore Chronicles. If this is your first week/day/minute on the site, I promise that self-indulgent posts about winter ennui and sidewalk passability tests will not be the norm. I occasionally write about things like my frustration with the evangelical church, my thoughts on sex and sexual expression (as one who at the age of 33 has never indulged), and my love for the city of Baltimore, Underdog Extraordinaire! Yes, I know that that is something of a paradox. In the paraphrased words of Walt Whitman--"I am full of contradictory truths."

This blog is also preoccupied with the anecdotal element of life.

Por ejemplo: I bet you are just going to be thrilled to know that I wore not one, but two pairs of pants today.

This kind of information fascinates me to no end. If you are not similarly intrigued, keep coming back. There's guaranteed to be something here for you eventually. And if the present is not so engaging, then check out the archives. There's a real treasure trove of human pathos in those!

Upon the advice of two dear friends, I am embracing the fact that I can be a real mess sometimes. A colossal mess. Some people might even love me for that most of all...

Test Run

I just came back inside from testing out my usual route to the light rail stop for passability. I didn't make it a third of the way before I realized, with certainty, that there is no way I will be walking that path in the morning. Fortunately, I live on a bus route and I can get that bus to the light rail. I wish I had thought to get cash out of the ATM, because if I had I would think nothing of getting a cab to work tomorrow (and back home).

As if the ice and slush that have made the sidewalks a nightmare aren't enough, the cold is so bitter, the wind so hostile,that I developed an instant headache. This is really not good.

lonesome cup of coffee

ice upon ice upon ice. I am home again, working for roughly half the day. Then I'm going to tuck myself into a corner of my overstuffed couch and read, ruminate, and watch incredibly bad late afternoon television.

all night long ice splatted against my windows, sounding like a thousand freshly poured bowls of Rice Krispies--such a concert of snapping, crackling, and popping! I woke up off and on for a period of hours, but eventually I settled into the noise, made my peace with it as best I could.

I dreamed about my father. My whole family, really. In the dream my middle sister had made the decision to take back a negligent, purposeless boyfriend. I disapproved and could not hide it. Her poor choice had some direct bearing on a family trip or something like that... My father tried to speak to me about it. I said pointedly to him "I hold her completely responsible for this!" Just as pointedly, he said to me "She knows that!"

The point of this dream, I understand, is that when you are judging someone, holding their bad choices against them, they always know and no relationship can move forward from that place. That's what my father was trying to tell me.

In any case, I'm up now and working. Drinking what is a positively lonely little cup of coffee, and am not wishing for anything in particular, besides.

etc.

1. due to the inconvenient weather and an extremely caring boss, i was able to work from home today.
2. i definitely have the february blahs (see posts from last week).
3. i started listening to one book on CD, decided i was not into it by disc 3, and started another one. much better.
4. tomorrow is hump day, for which i am eternally grateful. the work week will fly by from here.
5. it's also Valentine's Day. This will have no effect on my life.
6. the most exciting thing that happened today? My New Yorker arrived in the mail. The only legitimate item amidst a slew of circulars.
7. i found a card i'd purchased a full month before my youngest sister's birthday, but had forgotten to mail to her. So i sent it off tonight. her birthday was in August.
8. i actually left my apartment (needed stamps--see number 7 above). the slushy snow/ice melange is going to be awful to walk on tomorrow.
9. after work, but before dinner tonight, i read some of Jane Kenyon's poetry. I deliberately paid closer attention to the poems i usually skip over to get right to my favourites.
10. i am watching "Auntie Mame." It arrived last Friday (netflix), but I am just getting to it. Charming, touching.
11. it will be a year ago on thursday that I first saw my apartment. i decided that night to rent it, though i wouldn't be able to move in until mid-April.
12. on thursday, i have my six-month eval. here's hoping...
13. i'm trying to work through my angst in healthy ways.
14. my jeans are a little loose.
15. someone in Paris comes to this blog, from time to time, but only stays for 0 seconds (according to sitemeter. can that be right?).

How Am I Going To Make It Right?

Finding myself bereft of the superimposition of an external narrative on my days, I went to the library. A brief stop home to divest myself of work-related things, and then back out the door, into a slight rain. Today was almost balmy compared to the temperatures we've had lately, so that further encouraged my decision to walk the distance required to scare up some more books on CD. For the last week, I've been listening to music at work, and I find that it does not, that it cannot distract me the way I seem to need to be distracted just now.

I feel exposed. Gutted. Raw. Something is trying desperately to make it to the surface and I suppose I should just let it. Such a feeling typically precedes an emotional, if not an artistic, breakthrough. It was not long ago that I was coaxing and courting this very thing. Being unhinged made for effective poetry revisions.

I found something useful in profound solitude, sitting at the apex of emptiness. I just can't seem to make myself want to go back to that again. Prayer has offered some solace--asking God to help me, to ground me, to forgive me for my shenanigans. But what I suspect is that I probably need to cry. To really cry over it, whatever it is.

New Stemware

Dinner & Drinks

The evening began with a lovely, sensual French red. This was my now former Advisor's (MNFA) contribution to the Thank-you meal I planned to honour him and Sarah for their significant, inarticuable support during the most crucial time in my creative life up to this point. I guess I can refer to him as my friend--it'll take some adjusting to get myself out of this academic paradigm where all that's concerned.

I would like to say that I was the picture of decorum and social appropriateness. This is not quite true. I found myself in the predicament of having had alcohol on a nearly empty stomach, and so felt the impact of said alcohol very quickly. Even at dinner, it seems that I didn't eat that much--the momentum was too strong, and it just built on itself.

You know those times when memories of things you said or did in a highly stressful situation, or as in this case, under the influence of a fine wine (and a martini), comes back to you in waves of recollection? Well, this has been happening all day.

I prefaced every question to Sarah with "Was there a point last night when I said....?"

The Highlights:

I announced at one point that I am Katherine Hepburn.
I asserted that I found Al Gore extremely sexy in the early 90s.
At one point, my hairclip fell into my martini. I promptly removed it and put it back in my hair as though there was nothing really unusual about this.

This does not begin to scratch the surface. I was essentially a hot mess.

The fact that I was an unwitting, though very entertaining, inebriated socialite aside, the evening was a complete success. We were seated at just a little after 7, and we did not leave the restaurant until 11. There were anecdotes, quizzes, the sharing of desserts (my insistence on tasting other people's side dishes and chianti).

Here's what's clear. I've been feeling fragile all week, and I don't exactly know why. I think I'm mourning the fact that my master's career is over. I think that being with two people--two friends--that I hold in such high esteem made me feel kind of quietly daring and safe enough to be unhinged. There may be some pathology in that. I'm not exploring it tonight.

But I didn't like how I felt this morning. My first coherent thought was "Gosh, I am such an idiot!"

Sarah assured me that it was all fine, and that the atmosphere was very very convivial and good-natured. She did her best to convince me that while I was not my usually checked self, that I was not the ass I feared I was. She and MNFA had a blast. I felt that. I felt it being a good night (even drunk you know when the vibe is bad), and I liked the dynamic. If it should ever happen again (and I hope it does), I would have something to eat so there wouldn't be a repeat performance.

84,000 Different Delusions

For years, I've been under the impression that I don't like Nina Simone. Because of the network of shared playlists at la oficina, I've rediscovered her, via a coworker's iTunes library. And I love it. You know what it's like? It's like trying a refined food (or a food with complex tastes) for the first time when you're a child, when your tastebuds are untested and incapable of appreciating the textures different tastes afford. You may remain convinced that you hate said food, until one day, inexplicably, you are moved to try it again, and it is instant love. What happened? Did the food change? No, you did. Now you have a collection of food experiences that has properly oriented your tastebuds to receive this long-hated delicacy. This food, unbeknownst to you, has developed a context. A place in the spectrum of things you now cherish.

I also used to be under the impression that I did not like Jazz. It was torture listenting to my grandfather's records when I was little. I longed for the mindless pop of the day--not Bitches Brew, Blue Train, and Kind of Blue. Now, though, the colliding, non-melodic, law-unto-itself notes of a jazz riff are where I feel the most at home in music.

Each week, I try to open myself up to something that I've been closed to before. This week I've learned that it just doesn't get much better for me than Simone's version of "I Loves You Porgy."

Each week, I also write out a list of everything I'm afraid of in that moment. And then I come back to it a week later. I usually discover that within a span of 7 short days that everything I fear has either vaporized or worked itself out.

Inexplicably, for the last two or three days I've felt down on myself. Weirdly self-pitying, given how well things are going. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I listened to selections from The Cure's "Disintegration" album for an hour or so this morning. It's a great album, no doubt, but the desire to listen to "The Same Deep Water As You" on repeat does not bespeak a happy mood.

Fortunately, I was able to pull myself together and clear out the cobwebs. I filed some papers, followed up with people via e-mail (work-related missives), recycled unneeded paper, and formulated a game plan for my projects.

And then something small happened. In fact, it was completely mundane, and it certainly wouldn't translate to happiness for anyone else--but for me--it was the first legitimate reason to smile in about two days.

Still have a mild case of the blahs, but all I can do is ride it out. In the meantime, looking ahead....

Weekend in the Rearview Mirror/ Week on the Horizon

On Saturday evening Sarah, myself, and a couple of her coworkers got to partake of the the multi-course gourmet meal we won (as a four-person collective) via the Susan G. Komen donation raffle that was held at Sarah's job back in October. We started with pomegranate martinis, moved on to an appetizer of asian crab cakes (paired with a lovely Shiraz). From there we had a potato leek soup with braised scallops, which was followed by a mixed green salad topped with bacon, butternut squash, red onions, and creamy bleu cheese (all tossed with a subtle lemon vinaigrette). The main course, paired with another dreamy red (I do not remember the brand, vintage, or family of grape to which it belonged), was a macademia-encrusted mahi-mahi (so succulent), accompanied by a rice pilaf with orange zest, and fresh green beans & carrots. Dessert was two-pronged attack. Miniature molten lava chocolate cakes with mint-infused whipped cream and... key lime pie. We were meant to have a choice. We all chose to have a bit of both.

As per usual, I crashed at Sarah's house on Saturday night. Today, after watching the Sunday morning line up of shows on the Food Network, Sarah graciously did my taxes. Thankfully, the Federal return will yield a refund, but I'm getting a little nickeled and dimed by the state. I don't know why, and I certainly can't prove it, but I feel somehow that this must be Martin O'Malley's fault.

Tomorrow. Ah tomorrow. Back to work, full steam ahead. But Friday, oh friday... Well. That's dinner with Sarah and my now former thesis advisor. Finally, I'm taking them out to say thanks for seeing me through last semester.

my future

the gift

Met up with E right after work. We went to a lacklustre burger joint, then had an impromptu gabfest at my apartment. Now I'm tired, but feeling better for having seen my friend. Since I had not hung up a single article of clothing all week, once E departed I set about clearing my papasan of the week's work wardrobe, threw out some old magazines, arranged other things, and feel--if not better--then less like a complete failure. I find that I can't quite relax because of some apparent water damage to the ceiling in my dining room. I just want it fixed, already. In general, I feel out of control and out of sorts. This means I need to clean the bathroom and do my laundry. That's what it always means. I am oddly agitated and out of sync. ick!

Braised Red Cabbage leaves/plump flank of salmon flaking/Green garlic'd spinach

We are expecting a little problematic sheet of ice to crust the streets and walkways overnight. It is likely that I will work from home for a few hours tomorrow morning, but for as nice as being able to stay in bed a bit longer would be, I would like it better if we had no weather incidents. Once the streets are plowed, scraped, and salted, the sidewalks will probably still be a death gauntlet for all unlucky pedestrians, including yours truly.

I am still trying to corral all the bits of my work projects and I typically feel like I'm doing okay with it, but I also know what's at stake. There are a lot of things to consider, and all of them have implications for something else. I'm developing some project coordination muscles. Speaking of work...am still in love with my job, my coworkers, and my boss. When I get up in the morning, I like where I'm headed. Continue to be glad that I flew that other company's coop.

Grey's Anatomy promises to be good tonight. I think I'll heat up the kettle for tea and hunker down on the couch for an hour of dramatic bliss.

I'm tempted to say a lot of things, but I've finally learned that some cards must be played close to the chest.