I Hear You

I didn't get the chance to write about this before I left town for a church retreat (this past weekend) because I was in the throes of laundry, packing, and making and keeping a hair appointment for my much ignored tresses, but last week I received three pleas from three different friends to remember the reason I am alive.

Catchka, who always faithfully challenges me, gave me the assignment of going to the library, checking out the most recent copy of the Poet's Market, and to start submitting my work to appropriate journals. Gordon, who is generally only verbally encouraging, took the initiative to write me an e-mail in which he implored me not to forget my poetry and other writing in the midst of the busyness of my job, because "what [I] have to say is beautiful," and the lovely and intellectually astonishing Devika sent me a postal letter in which she strongly encouraged me not to keep my writing private--calling it a disservice to the literary world if my poems continued to be unavailed to the public.

The topic of this year's Women's Fall Retreat was finding, knowing, and implementing your life's purpose. The notion that God has created me for a purpose beyond my mere 9 to 5, beyond even the coveted roles of wife and mother, that is so specific and unique to me, my inclinations, and my gifts was heartening.

I believe the Lord speaks in myriad ways--through the words of trusted friends is certainly one of those means He uses to reach us. So, to honour these messages, I plan to enroll in grad school for writing next Fall. Keep me in your prayers.

29

your lips were seductive surrounded by smoke
i searched your face, saying only with the darkness of my irises
like coffee without cream, not bitter, just dark and tortured
that my body aches at the core
for your body

it was your birthday
and i couldn’t help but think
that you were being created
as i came silently, soberly into the world

how long i have waited
for you to emerge
into an understanding of me

your fingers tapered, intentional
in their grasping at air
your skin is raw milk
close enough for me to taste

feel the weight of my unspoken dreams
floating toward you on the air currents
with your smoke
weighted
waiting
waning

if you do not hear
they will vanish

i have tried to find myself in reference to other selves
but you are my guidepost
your wound the only one I want to heal
by opening my own flesh
to envelop you and reign you in
through dark hours

your mouth poison in its witholding
leave a drop for me.

© Kate Krupnik
June 2, 2003

One Year Ago Today, This Is What I Was Thinking

Sometimes I want him to hold me, smooth down my hair, kiss my face, and tell me that I will never have to know the terror, fear, shame, and uncertainty I knew as a child, again. I have a recurring fantasy that I am sitting close to him, and he asks me what it was like the first time I saw my step father hit my mother. My answer is always one word. Devastating. I feel very safe with him in this scenario, and I know that he is asking me this question because he wants to know what it meant to me to have my world fly apart at the age of 6, roughly 18 years before I met him.

He is the first man I've not wanted to impose a kind of perverse redemption on my childhood experience--or to be the upgrade template for all of the sociopathic, abusive men that have frequented my life. I used to want the guys I coveted to make me worthy by my association with them. I considered that they might be with me inspite of who I was--and when they didn't want to be, I attributed it to the heavy sense of degradation that always lingered around me.

Discovering that I had feelings for someone used to make me violently ill in the initial stages of the infatuation because I feared that I was sullying the person with my feelings for him. Everything I longed for, dreamed about, or thought of myself was informed by that one evening when I first saw my step father beat up my mother. He broke her ribs and blackened her eye. I splintered apart, and so learned to categorize and compartmentalize myself, so that what I would accept and what I hoped for were always at odds with each other. I was a study of hairline fractures.

I don't expect that he can change what happened to me, nor do I think that what happened to me and my family makes me unworthy of him.

On last wednesday night when my sister called me and said that her father had beaten her up, I found myself wishing I could hear his voice, wishing I could share with him what had happened... the way it is natural to want to tell the people you love everything. Normally, when something of paramount importance happens, I think "I need to e-mail him about this..."

And that is what I ended up doing. Sending out a mass e-mail to friends, on which he was included, because for as much as I've grown and matured, and for as much as I wanted him to comfort me that night, that is not the present reality of our understanding. It was close to midnight during the week, and there was no immediate need for his help, and we do not yet have it like that...

But it was good for me to be aware of myself wanting to have that with him, wanting to approach him as his equal, believing that he had some measure of strength to offer me--as my friend, whom I now know I trust.

Something small, but crucial happened on the day of our bike ride that let me know decisively that I can let him be a source of protection for me. His family has two dogs. One of these animals behaves erratically, and he informed me, has bitten people, unprovoked, in the past. And in the same breath that he very calmly shared that information with me he said "But as long as you stay with me you should be fine." I believed him. I was.

He didn't go

to New York. When the time came, he wasn't feeling well. I asked him if he rescheduled. Apparently, not for anytime soon.

I have actually been at my threshold today where he's concerned. It has been the better part of two weeks since I've seen him, talked to him, and even longer since we've e-mailed. I've been wondering about him the whole time, how the trip to New York went, but I also felt (until today) a general sense of "all is well," and so wasn't worried. I felt very connected to him in spite of the lack of contact.

Today, though, I started to cave. I wanted to establish contact with him so badly, but I also knew in my heart that I needed to let him establish contact with me. I have tried unsuccessfully to do this in the past. This time it was even more important that I wait. A few hours ago, I was ready to write him. I was willing to settle for the hollow victory of hearing from him as a result of my own effort.

I didn't. Sarah didn't let me (what a friend's for). About 20 minutes after the talk in which she reminded me that I have been wanting him to take more initiative, he called. He's been busy with work which is why he didn't call me a couple of days ago. He wanted to catch up.

He alluded to future opportunities to get together (a drink to celebrate selling a painting to the person I recommended to him, me seeing his place, finally, and getting my own painting from among his collection, etc.), and he told me to call him or e-mail him when I get back from my weekend away.

I just hope it gets easier to let him take the lead.

October, We Meet Again.

(When autumn comes/ it doesn't ask/ it just walks in where it left you last/ You never know when it starts/ Until there's fog inside the glass around your summer heart-- From "Something's Missing" by John Mayer)

I love the smells of October air--earthy leaves, sweet burning wood, rain. I love the sounds of October--the snapping of a football,the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot, the crackle of spitting flames at bonfires. I love the feel of October--chilly in the morning, mild in the afternoon. It's time for sweaters and baking pies--hikes and baking bread--for reading Rilke by candlelight in the evening.

I took some rubbing alcohol to my desk, feeling the need to sterilize my workspace. After draining conversations and a meeting that wasn't too terrible, my work day is drawing to a close. I'm looking forward to going out to dinner with Sarah in a few minutes, then heading home to settle in for the night.

The rest of the week shouldn't be too bad. I know what my objectives are, and even though they may be impossible, there is some comfort to be found in knowing what I have to do.

On Friday, Sarah and I will leave work early to head up to Pennsylvania for a church retreat. I am looking forward to stepping back to gain some much-needed perspective.

I need an epiphany right about now.

I had a dream about Baltimore last night. I dreamt that I was in a gliding street car with my sisters; we were riding through an antiquated, extravagant part of town (that was representative of a real section of the city, but was not, itself, a real place) and I said, staring longingly at the homes, monuments, and the swaying springtime trees, "I love this town; It stirs my soul."

"The Problem's not Hollywood, the problem's not Washington, the problem is a weak, divided Church of schismed Christians." The OC Supertones

Ironic quiz subject, but the results make total sense...


Ted: Food & Wine Connoisseur


Which Member from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy is your type?
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Settling Scores

About a week ago I received a bonus check from my company. During the 6-week period where most of us lived at the office well past the requisite 5:30 p.m. end time and on weekends, both stress and productivity were high.

I got used to being at work all the time, and started to feel weird when I left work at the end of a long day, knowing I was leaving something undone. I guess people in power noticed, and understand the value of morale.

I didn't expect to be compensated, though. I just wanted to be honourable for once.

The night before I received news of the bonus, I started to pray for direction about my finances--how to best use them to get out of debt and to be a better steward over them, in general. I even remember telling God that If I could just get a leg up, a head start, I would make every effort to be responsible. It didn't take me long to connect the dots between my prayer and the good news.

I prayed for guidance about how to specifically use the money--I knew I couldn't just fritter it away; I wanted to make a statement back to God after his faithfulness to me that said "thank you."

Several years ago my mother, with my permission, used a credit card I had. The limit was laughable, but it was enough. I had just been given this card out of college, and used it to buy a stereo. I gave my mom cash, asking her to handle paying the bill (I didn't have a checking account at the time).

I left the card in her possession because I had an inherent fear of plastic, and the way it owned so many people. I didn't want her to use my card either, but when the tires on her car blew out, and other emergencies came up, and she asked me if she could use it, how could I refuse her? She promised that she would pay for these things herself, and that I would not be troubled by the expenses or the bills.

My mom and dad began to fall on truly hard times, and that debt just sat there collecting interest. My mom did do her best to field calls from collectors, and she would pay the minimum amount toward that debt when she could, but she also had cards of her own. My stepdad eventually became sick enough that he had to stop working altogether.

My mother filed for bankruptcy, and assured me that she put the card with my name on it (because she was an authorized user) on the file with all the other bills she couldn't pay. It wasn't ideal, but it was taken care of. Supposedly.

Well creditors don't ever rest. The owners of the debt eventually found me, and long story short, send me a letter once a month offering me a settlement amount that is about half of what was actually owed on the account.

I talked to my mom about it, and she thinks that they can't really do anything to me because she filed that claim with the others. I talked to them and told them the situation. They don't agree that this debt has been expunged.

So for the better part of two years, I've been ignoring their monthly missive (still telling my mom she needs to settle this account because it is my name on the line). But when I got home last night, after work, and saw the address I know too well now, I knew in my heart the intended purpose of the bonus (there were so many equally excellent uses).

I wrote them a check and put it in the mailbox last night.

Thank you God, for the leg up.

Good Help Is So Hard To Find

I've had a slew of temps supporting the editorial and formatting ends of my project since early Summer. The initial temps were recruited, not from an angency, but through postings on engines like CareerBuilder and Monster.com. Is it any wonder that they were of a higher calibre than the johnny-come-latelies that we've had shuttled over to us by that agency (who shall remain nameless), that, from what I can tell specializes in sociopaths, crackheads, and the well-meaning, but not-so-bright?

There were two exceptions, and one of them had to leave because she found better work. With any luck, this is all about to change. We may have someone I know coming in to pick up slack in a few days. Keep your fingers crossed!

I asked to switch apartments a few days ago. I asked then, thinking it would be a while before something else became available. My own place has sustained water damage in the bathroom (leaking ceiling) and in the livingroom and bedrooms because of air conditioner units that have a penchant for leaking as well. The bedroom wall, beneath the window, is so compromised because of rain damage that you can push it in, and it will separate from the sill.

I came in yesterday and was told by a leasing agent that they have a place that is vacant. Now. He showed it to me--it's the same rent, but a slightly different and better layout--I can't tell you how I wanted it. But the timing is wrong. Even though I'd only be moving to another apartment in my building, I'd need lead time. I need phone service installed and cable switched over, and to move my stuff, which is in no way transportable on a dime.

And Sarah is still with me. When I switch apartments I need to do so alone. It makes no sense otherwise. It's been messy for a long time, and I need a clean break with #704.

I felt a little out of control of my life again after this happened. I felt a little angry that I couldn't just say yes to that place, but I have to trust that there will be some inestimable gain in having to wait.

In an effort to be even-handed and judicious in rendering my tale of Gordon, I have to say that he spent the better part of the week in New York looking for potential sublet opportunities and for work. He long ago decided against getting a higher degree in painting from the New York Academy of Art, but he can't get the desire to live in the city (or near it) out of his system.

I don't know if the undertaking was successful or not. I also know that he has several work-related commitments he has to take care of during the balance of the week, so I don't expect that he will be free, really, to tell me about his time up north for a few days.

So what if he moves? Obviously the fact that he's still wanting to do it tells me something important about his priorities. I know he doesn't want to work for his dad (which he's been doing for nearly a year now), and I know that he has tried to find work here in Baltimore (which hasn't happened), so how could I not want him to take any chance he might have at happiness and a sense of accomplishment?

And he needs to get out of his annoying living situation. He's renting a room for roughly what half a share of rent on a mid-grade apartment would be, and the limits on his personal space are taxing him. Why wouldn't I want him to live in the city of his dreams?

How come I'm not praying for him that this happens?

A couple of days ago I tried to challenge myself not to see his living in New York as an impediment to the growth of our relationship. But I'm kind of back in the old mindset now. The deepening of our bond this summer was only possible because I had the crucial element of proximity in place. Sustained, repeated contact enhances relationships.

We had e-mailed with some degree of regularity for 2 1/2 years, and seen each other approximately 5 times a year before I moved back to Baltimore. And even my first year here, when he still lived with Victoria, I didn't see him that often.

So, yes, New York would be an impediment. If he's thinking of living there, then he is not thinking of having "more" with me. And what we have now, in the way of closeness, would be undermined by the distance.

Maybe we only got closer this summer because I, as his last option for society in this town, was better than nothing.

Results from a comprehensive dating profile survey

Who You Are

You're adored, and for good reasons

You're a pillar of strength and stability for the people in your life. You're responsible, loyal, and hardworking. In a crisis, you're definitely the one your friends and co-workers come running to. In fact, you're known for your common sense advice and business savvy. Your life is very ordered and busy since you're always juggling your career, family and friends, and community involvement. But you have room in your life for someone special. You're not someone who "wears her heart on his sleeve" so those close to you don't always know how you feel. However, they always know they can count on you to do what you say and say what you mean.


What's dating all about to you?

Falling in love is a spiritual experience for you. A truly loving relationship helps bring meaning to your life. You try hard to make your date feel comfortable and have a good time. You're good at anticipating what other people need and giving it to them. But inside, you're usually on an emotional roller coaster. You don't want to reject nice men, but also take it very personally if you're the one rejected. You're constantly trying to find the "rules" for successful dating but often find they don't work.

Although having a vision of what you want can be helpful, the risk is that your high standards and rush to find the perfect man can get in the way of loving a real-life imperfect man. It won't come naturally to you, but you're more likely to find what you want if you can sit back, "go with the flow," and see where dating leads you.

Who You're Looking For

He'll be an enigma

You're looking for a man who's smart, insightful, and has an insatiable curiosity about life. The two of you could share a very interesting and exciting intellectual connection. Getting close emotionally takes time, since he's an independent and sometimes shy man by nature. But he's worth the effort to get to know! Your best strategy is to see him "in action" when you go out with friends but still find quiet time with him to talk. You'll discover he's a good conversationalist, especially if you get him talking about books, current events, or any of his many interests and hobbies.

You don't expect your partner to be in a good mood all the time. You understand that sometimes your partner will be down, get pessimistic or worry too much. These days are balanced by the many good days the two of you will share. In fact, you share a number of positive qualities, including:

No strong similarities were detected, which suggests that you may be more attracted to certain "opposite qualities." Please read the next sections to see if you may be seeking someone with different or opposite qualities to balance your own habits and style.

Finding someone like you

You want to share your life with someone who has the same values, goals, and style you have. Research has shown that couples who have more in common tend to stay together longer. The qualities you find attractive (and unattractive) in men suggest you would certainly be happier with a man who's more like you.

No very strong opposites were detected, which suggests that you are most attracted to men who are very similar to you. This is good news since similar couples tend to stay together longer.

Quirks you can tolerate

The truth is that everyone is potentially "high maintenance." We all have our quirks and shortcomings. The key to long-term harmony is finding a man who can tolerate (or maybe even enjoy) your "quirks," or the little personal oddities that make you unique. You seem okay with several common quirks that might come along with your "ideal" man:

You described a pretty balanced person as most attractive to you, so no strong quirks were noted. Watch out for quirks during dating, since they may indicate a strong quality that is hidden at first.

Downside of your "ideal"

In addition to his quirks, your "ideal" personality type may have other qualities that are more frustrating or challenging to deal with. Under stress, his quirks can become serious "flaws." But remember, these quirks are the "flip side of the coin," or the extreme end of qualities you otherwise find appealing. So, be prepared if:

Because you're most attracted to men with balanced personalities, no troubling differences were noted. Nevertheless, remember that too much similarity can lead to conflict as well, especially when problems call for very different perspectives or actions.

Deal breakers

You seem ready to adapt to the good and frustrating qualities of the men you're looking for, but there are types of men you clearly do NOT like. Men's habits and attitudes you'd have a hard time putting up with include:

Idealistic or artistic men who get lost in their own world as they pursue their dreams. (Irony!)

Trade-offs you'll face

Good Qualities vs. Challenging Qualities

Tries to balance spending time with a few close friends and going out with a big group of friends.

Given the demands of family, friends, and activities, it's hard to find time alone together.

Comes up with lots of great ideas about how to do things better or improve the world.

Creative ideas are often impractical or unrealistic.

Can step back and look objectively at a problem, which can be helpful to you in any crisis.

Almost impossible to turn off analysis and thinking about what's happening.

Tries to be decisive, but still not rush into anything.

How much attention is given to problems and how decisions get made seems unpredictable.

Quark -- You are subtle and mysterious and people
know very little about you. You like hanging
out with small groups of friends (usually 3)
who you are very close to. You are usually
friends with other quarks like yourself.


What kind of subatomic particle are you?
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Good Taste? "Everyone thinks they have good taste and a sense of humour, but they couldn't all have good taste..." (from "When Harry Met Sally")

Most Sophisticated Album:

Jane Monheit's "In The Sun"

Beverage of Choice:

Starbucks's White Chocolate Mocha

Book I Need to Read:

The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot

Transcendentalist Hotties (liberal interpretation of "hottie"):

Thoreau

Emerson

Sensualist Imagist Poet:

Rilke

Dream Car:

Land Rover

My Ideal Couch and chair:

Sage Green, Gooshy.

For Dinner Fetes:

Dark Wood is Classic, but the white cushions make it less severe.

The Boudoir:

I like the minimalist look of this bed frame (and the french vintage ad is so me!)

Gusts

The wind is aggressively battering the balcony furniture of the people across the way. Outside on the waterfront, sail chains are clanging and beating. The temperature is fairly mild, and while not heralding a storm, the strong air currents do seem to be signaling the arrival of something.

You're Most Like The Season Autumn ...

You're warm, and the most approachable. You have
that gentle prescence about you. People can
relate to you, and find you easy company.
However it's likely you've been hurt in the
past and it has left you scarred so things can
become rather chilly with you at times. Being
the third Season in, you're mature, trustworthy
and loyal to your friends but prone to
depression and negative thinking.

Well done... You're the shy and sensitive season :)


?? Which Season Are You ??
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G picked me up at about 5 till seven. I was delighted to see that he had changed into a crisp blue oxford and khakis for our outing. I changed out of my lumberjack wear from this morning, and wore, instead, a crisp white button down with a coral camisole and Jeans. The only thing non feminine about my casual outfit was the hiking boots I put on in case of flooding.

I loved the moment of acknowledgment we shared taking each other in wearing slightly fancier clothes. He drove us into the part of the city affectionately known as "Greek town" where his studio is, but the building was without power. We made tentative plans to go back on Sunday morning.

We made our way back to my part of town, and proceeded to visit several local cafes and pubs, not enjoying more than one drink in any one place. I treated him to the first round, then he paid for the cab ride to the tapas place and bought the food and drinks there. When we left to check out the place next door (Club Charles), I realized my shoe was untied, so he bent down to lace them up for me.

At the next place, we each ordered manhattans (told him I'd never been horseback riding and he said he would arrange with his mom for me to go), and then headed to the Brewer's Art for Stoli shots, and talked about marriage and celibacy--the priesthood, and the sacrifice it entails--vs. marriage and the sacfrifice it entails.

At one point he looked down at me, and asked me if I was standing on lower ground than he, because he felt that he was suddenly even taller than me (than usual). I laughed at him and said "no, this is about right." I don't know when this occurred, but at some point, I took his fingers in mine, and we just held on to each other for a moment.

I told him that in spite of everything, I liked him when he smoked, because I'd always found the vice to be so cool-looking. So he sent me to bum a cigarette and a light for him off some other bar patron. Maybe it wasn't such a great thing to encourage him to do (he's trying to quit), but I loved that he smoked for me.

After that we headed back to my apartment where we joined Bina, Jamie [her out of town guest], and Michael for one more drink and some pretty entertaining conversation, that ran the gamut from stalkers to Jamie's life on a submarine (Navy). I sat close to him, wanting to feel our bodies connecting in whatever way possible.

I couldn't help it, at one point when we'd first arrived back at my place I took his whole hand in mine, and he squeezed when I did that.

I feel, if I'm being honest, that several of our outings might classify as dates, but tonight felt like one to me.

Hurricane Chic

(with all due respect and sober acknowledgment of the damage this hurricane has caused, the title of this blog does not mean to make light of anyone's loss)

Sarah's parents called us up, reported eating potted meat out of a can and reading the Reader's Digest jokes by candle light. Here in baltimore we watched old sitcoms, filled up the bath tub with water (in the event of loss of power/water) and watched bits of a slate roof fly down our street with rapt fascination.

This morning I called up Gordon to make sure he was okay (his part of town was severely flooded); He ended up coming over for coffee and crumb cake, and we made plans for this evening. When he arrived my hair was standing on end, and I was dressed like a lumberjack (eddie bauer flannel and jeans).

This, my friends, is hurricane chic. You heard it here first.

You're a MYSTIC! A mystic needs basic information
to interpret the story or plot. You carry
characteristics of both plotters and pantsers,
and therefore you may have been unsure about
your writing personality. You may write a
chapter or two to get the story going, and then
write a very basic synopsis or outline of major
plot events. Nothing is set in stone. You
allow your intuition and inspiration to guide
you. You may stick to a steady schedule, or
you may write in bursts. Most mystics write
with a fair amount of regularity--not every
day, but maybe the same days of the week seem
to work best for you. You may revise the
previous days writing before continuing on with
new prose. Mystics carry the best
characteristics of both plotting and pantsing.
You are committed, but flexible. You are
creative, but organized. You have both a good
voice, and the grammatical skill to pull off a
great novel.


Find Your Writing Personality!!
brought to you by Quizilla

"Have you ever watched a pot of water come to a boil? Have you noticed how calm water can quickly form bubbles, which then rise to the top and burst? All of this relates to heat, rising temperatures, and energy." --from a Science lesson I edited.

Am listening to the Bridget Jones's Diary soundtrack and watching chairs blown about on people's balconies. Will only be at the office proper for about forty more minutes, and then will print out stuff to take home. Will take Friday as it comes...

For some reason, keep having vision of red, gooshy couch, sage green reading chair, and dark wood coffee table with candles... I have this idea that when Bina gets her new place, I will turn mine into a love nest.

Hmmm...

Hurricane Isabel

has shut down the Washington, DC Federal government and several school districts and counties. I think I'm exercising my right to work from home tomorrow.

The Long-Awaited List of Goals (that everyone must formulate shortly after his or her 30th birthday)

I. By this time next year to have my comparably paltry debt [mostly]obliterated.

a. must accomplish this by completely revamping spending habits.
1. must accomplish this by starting a savings account.
2. must support savings account by putting in all money I would otherwise frivolously spend on items with no long-term value.

II. By this time next year to have new furniture that I actually like.

a. new spending habits may or may not facilitate this goal.

III. By this time next year to have settled church membership issues.

a. must accomplish this goal by continuing to pray and visit as many places as possible.

IV. By this time next year to have worked hard enough to get a raise.

a. must accomplish this goal by continuing to work tirelessly at job, being of the mindset that integrity and a solid work ethic are integral to character development.

V. By this time next year to have enrolled in grad program, pursuing an MFA or MA in English Literature/Creative Writing.

a. must accomplish this goal by researching entry requirements and by saving money (see goal I).

Zagat Rated

Wednesday, September 10th, 5:05 p.m.

Flight to Boston touches down early (hurrah!). Catchka was there to meet me as soon as I had collected my bag, and per our agreement, yelled out "Welcome to Fantasy Island!" (don't ask; it's something we thought would be very funny.) I gave her the watercolor Gordon painted as a housewarming present and made her open it right there in baggage claim. "Is this a crack pipe?" I love it!" She exclaimed.

She spirited me away in her new, macked-out silver Nissan Altima, whom she lovingly refers to as "Boyfriend." Honestly, if you had this roomy, luxury number in your life he might be all you'd need too.

We headed to her lovely, antiquated apartment house in Somerville where she set about making me a wonderful, savory meal of a bruschetta appetizer, a spinach salad with bacon, bleu cheese, dried cranberries, and walnuts (topped off with raspberry vinaigrette), and angel hair pasta with clam sauce...

Eating by candelight, and opening up my birthday presents in stages--fun cool citrus basil products from Bath and Body Works and a series of sepia toned photographs, all of which Catherine took. One of a boat on the water from our college, one of the Eiffel Tower at night, one of me [silhouetted], and another of her and me taken the last time she visited me in Baltimore.

It was hard, but I went to bed after all that excitement....

Thursday, September 11th, 7:57 a.m.

Meeting Catchka's friend Natalie at the Soundbites Cafe for breakfast was a blast. I enjoyed apricot and cream cheese-stuffed french toast, the requisite cup of coffee, and bacon (of course).

After this scrumptious feast, we headed into Nantick for a day of apple and peach picking--a surprise Catherine planned for me, thinking I would love the New England of it all.... we took some lovely "Eve" shots in the orchard.

Oh, but lest I forget our photo shoot in Target immediately beforehand... I must tell you, I made Catherine don something with a faux fur collar. She looked hot!!!!!

Friday, September 12th, time unknown

Renee's Cafe for breakfast--even better than Sound bites in my opinion. I don't know when I've had better pancakes, or a more charming waiter.

We went into the woods because we wanted to live deliberately.... Walden Pond was a real treat, especially when C used her cell phone to call Sarah to tell her the terrible news about John Ritter... Can't really buy irony that good.

I don't know why, but I'd never made the obvious and overt connection between Thoreau and Emerson--as friends as well as contemporaries. Learned that Walden was Emerson's property which he let Thoreau borrow so he could get his head together. Never knew that Walden, even then, was a stone's throw from Thoreau's family and friends, and that he was always going to his mom's house for food and such. He also had plenty of visitors, and food...

Why had I imagined him eating berries and tree bark, and being all isolated?

After the WP, we headed to the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in the heart of Concord. I photographed Emerson's house (imminently quotable man that he was), and visited his grave, as well as Thoreu's and Louisa May Alcott's.

Lest you think this was all macabre and literary antiquity, Catherine took me out (along with two of her friends from Church) to the Comedy Club on Friday night. I love stand up routines. Even though two of the seven comedians were truly un funny, it was a blast! I laughed like crazy.

Saturday, September 13th, 12:10 p.m.

At the Somerville Theatre, sitting in the balcony, saw "Bend it Like Beckham" mantinee. Would recommend to others as worthwhile.

Spent the rest of the day in the city proper, at Boston Common, taking lovely photographs, and just enjoying C's company. She showed me the city from her perspective, took me to J.P. Lick's for ice cream, and then to the North End for a delicious Italian meal at D'Amores (I ate chicken and sausage bianco). Best cup of coffee in Boston, period.

Catherine's sister and boyfriend met us in town for the Jim's Big Ego concert in Harvard Square. I was tired at the beginning of the show, but pepped up, and got into the fun of the band in due time. I was blown away, at least once an hour, by how much care, thought, and detailed planning went into Catherine's preparation for my visit.

This woman has hospitality in spades; I felt completely welcome and adored by her. I thought maybe I should have been taking notes.

Sunday, September 14th, 1:00 p.m.

Leaving church in a beautiful deluge of rain, starving, thinking about my pending departure....

My last meal out was at Anna's Taqueria, where I had the best steak quesadilla ever! We picked up coffee for me, and chocolate croissants for us both at Starbucks, and then headed back to Catherine's place to settle tabs (she fronted me money for my incidentals), put my bags in her trunk, take final photographs, and bring closure to our lovely visit.

I started to think about seeing Gordon at the airport back home. I had low level butterflies about that, and the plane ride. Take off is sometimes nerve wracking for me, but this time when my plane climbed the sky, I felt exhilarated.

I didn't know if he would just idle in his car in the pick up area or not, but I conducted myself as though he would (parking right outside the terminal area as opposed to coming into the airport to collect me). I called him when after ten minutes I was still waiting for my baggage, and as it turns out, he was inside the terminal, but not sure where I was because the status of my flight was showing as "still arriving." Anyway, he met me at baggage claim. I hugged him, genuinely happy to just be standing there with him.

He was wearing one of the shirts he bought the day I went shopping with him. I said "Hey, I like that shirt." He came back with "Someone made me break the bank on a shopping trip..."

He immediately took my carry on (knapsack). When my checked bag finally slid down the chute, he grabbed that too, and protested when I tried to take back the backpack. I asked him if he wanted to come back to my place for coffee and a visit. He said he'd love to. We talked easily and a lot on the drive home; I felt him trusting me, glad to be with me...

He didn't have my birthday present with him, so we had to swing by his place for it--"The Gentle Side of John Coletrane"--an album that he loves. So I guess we're even since I gave him Ella's "Like Someone In Love" for his birthday. I loved the gift, to say the least.

Once back at the apartment, I gave Sarah, Michael, and G the presents I brought them (I gave G a Last Supper Lunch Box), and made coffee. As on the drive from the airport, G and I talked effortlessly (Sarah and Michael stepped out to run an errand). I found out that he loves the movie "Casablanca" after I said how much I hated it the one time I watched it (I was 20 at the time).

I put on the cd he gave me, and we sipped our coffee listening to Coletrane.

After he left I unpacked and ate a bologna sandwich...

I've been in Boston for 24 hours now, and the food I've eaten so far, alone, has made the trip worth it! Catherine made me a bruschetta appetizer, angel hair pasta with red clam sauce, and a spinach salad with walnuts, dried cranberries, bacon, and crumbled bleu cheese last night. It was my birthday dinner.

This morning at 8 o'clock we met a friend of hers at the Sound Bites cafe--I had cream cheese and apricot-stuffed french toast with coffee (and bacon, of course).

Later we drove into Wellesley and picked apples and white peaches, stopping to take lots of cool concept photographs (think "eve's tempation"). We especially liked the petting zoo (ostriches, donkeys in miniature, goats, sheep, and pot bellied pigs)! Catherine talked to these creatures and they totally responded to her. I think the word I'm looking for is "precious."

We played Ella's "Like Someone In Love" on the way back to Catchka's charming house/apartment, and I thought about Gordon. Surprise. Surprise.

Luch was a savory crepe (at Mr. Crepe) of arugala, avocado, cilantro, and monterey jack cheese... We tooled around Davis Square in CD SPins and the McIntyre used book store. I picked up a few souvenirs for friends, including a "Last Supper" lunch box for G.

More adventures from Bean Town to come... stay tuned!

The Silver Jetta Is Gone

It had been Sarah's dream car for more than a year when she finally got one in the spring of 2000. It had all the bells and whistles she wanted it to have, complete with alloy wheels and a sunroof. She named him Tennyson--the perfect combination of literary antiquity and suburban presumption. Tennyson was a beautiful, shiny machine--and still is. He's just not Sarah's anymore.

Her "check engine" light came on on Monday morning (on the way to the MVA), so she expedited the process of setting up a service appointment (it was time for the 40,000 mile check up anyway). Long story short, the repairs were going to be steep, and given the fact that her lease was to expire in May, the dealership cut her a deal. I went with her to finalize tonight. She is now the owner of a sophisticated, black 2003 Jetta sans many of the bells and whistles that made Tennyson what he is.

In the long run, she'll come out better, but for now she misses the old car. Funny how your entire car identity can change in an instant.

So, in memory of the silver Jetta that Sarah rocked for so long, I write this blog to commemorate the hours and long drives where we did nothing but listen to NSYNC's "No Strings Attached," talk about the men in our lives, tote Christmas presents and other shopping hauls, schlep groceries, and just escape, from time to time, the mediocrity that was Montgomery County--eventually all the way back to Baltimore for good.

So long, Tennyson. It was real.

"When you take someone to the airport it's clearly the beginning of the relationship." --From "When Harry Met Sally"

I returned to the MVA this morning and left with an ID card, finally. It was a small-scale headache again, but mission accomplished.

After more than a week of pondering Sarah's suggestion to ask Gordon to pick me up from the airport next Sunday night (when I return from Boston), I finally did it. It's set. He said that he has my birthday present (he didn't bring it with him last week) so he'll give it to me "then"...

I lost my state ID on my birthday. The last place I had it was at Vaccaro's when I had to show it to the waiter to prove it was my birthday (complimentary dessert). It goes without saying that I contacted the restaurant, but the staff did not find it there. So I spent about an hour and forty minutes yesterday just waiting on line at the MVA to get a new one. I want you, gentle reader, to bear in mind that almost everyone except me was getting there getting his or her liscense renewed, and leaving with their spiffy new MD state-designed card. As expected. Of the four or five times I've needed to have state IDs issued to me, I have always gotten the card on the day of the transaction.

I was told my card, which was processed effortlessly enough, would need to be mailed to me. I politely challenged the concept, saying that A) people were leaving with drivers licences, and B) I am flying on Wednesday and could not do so without proof of identification. Essentially, I was told that if I could come back on Monday morning (when it would be mailed out to me) and show my flight itinerary it would be given to me then. So that's what I'm doing. Proving I'm getting on a plane so that the MVA can give me a state ID card that I held in my hand before I left on Saturday afternoon to verify the spelling of all my personal information.

Bina and I came home and ate an old shool mixed with a somewhat new school vibe lunch. We had bologna and cheese sandwiches with creamy couscous with oranges and nuts on the side. We finished up with delicious and sharply tart key lime pie. I cleaned up after us, then sat on the couch to read the awesome book Bina gave me for my birthday Baltimore Transitions, a photo retrospective of the city's evolution.

I was expecting Jim, my mother's good friend, to come pick me up to spirit me to my mom's house to collect her and my sister for birthday celebration part III (I had a girls' night with Sarah, Victoria, and Marge on Friday night). We went out to dinner at a lovely Chinese food buffet, and then to see a community theatre presentation of "Annie," which was delightfully rendered. We wrapped up our evening at some truck stop in Anne Arundel county where the coffee was weak and the pie freezerburned, but even that was lovely somehow.

I returned to Baltimore a little after midnight and watched the balance of a "La Femme Nikita" episode with Sarah and Michael, then went to sleep, still feeling that something sinister is afoot at the MVA.

Elevator Epiphanies

I made a quick run to 7-11 a little bit ago, and rode down in the lift with one of my building's maintenance technicians. I nodded and smiled at him, and then retreated to my corner of the elevator. When we were nearly on the 1st floor, he said "something is different about you; I don't know what it is." I told him I thought it had to do with being newly 30... It's affirming when an internal glow shows up on your face.

Yesterday was my 30th birthday. So I begin again at 364 days til 31.

I awoke yesterday morning to the gifts of a grey sky and city streets damp with rain. It was great to have weather that I love characterize the vibe of the day.

Once at work I listened to Miles Davis's "Love Songs" and drank hot, creamy coffee while making editorial markings on curriculum. I was content and self-satisfied. Only a few of my coworkers knew it was my birthday, so for the most part it was business as usual, excepting the delicious, miniature pineapple upside down cake Michael brought me, and later the foccacia vegetable pizza he gave me as a late afternoon treat.

The typical frustrations with office politics and problem employees were present. I even had to make the decision to let one of the temps go after carefully pondering the matter for the better part of a week.

But after all of that, I ate dinner with Sarah, Michael, and Gordon at a local mexican restaurant, then went back to my apartment to unwrap presents,and then we ended the night at Vaccaro's in Little Italy.

It was a calm, beautifuly day sans ostentacious displays. Very grown up.

kate,

as you enter your 4th decade on this earth, i wanted to give you a small gift....a mere token of my appreciation for you (along with the other loot you'll unwrap later at home!). i have been searching for weeks, trying to find some template that would do you justice, express to the world the essence of who you are, etc.; but after days of shirking my work responsibilities in an effort to realize this goal, i came to the conclusion that it would diminish you to try to pin you down.

so, instead, i have chosen this maple leaf, brilliant with color, on the verge of winter's icy grip. not that i think for one moment that you are on the way out, my friend. on the contrary. the fall is but a precursor to real life, the life that comes after death, the shedding of the old, the giving up of that which is lost. and i see that as the path on which God has you - the path that is leading to the beginning of your real life. this season has been so much about learning to lay down, yield, acquiesce, etc. and while it may be quiet for a time, as things brew beneath the surface, there is a life being birthed inside of you this very moment and at the right time, you will step into it with full assurance that your time has indeed come.

get ready for greatness, kate. the winter is near, the time for dying nearly over.

autumn has indeed returned. shine your colors. you are born!

(i love you always.....sarah)

Relationship-Ready

I think that a few items are prerequisites for starting up an exclusive, dating relationship.

1) A healthy self-concept
2) An informed perspective
3) Financial independence/responsibility by way of gainful employment or lucrative, legitimate production of goods
4) Living independently, or in a roommate situation with a peer, but preferrably alone
5) Emotional freedom
6) Generosity of spirit
7) Tolerance

I don't know that I'm ready for a relationship. I like to think that I am. Of course I'm more ready now than I have ever been, but I don't know if I'm ready enough to let myself be loved, to really let someone look at me so closely. And I don't know if I'm intolerant enough of the deception that "all is well," to really entreat my eyes to see a man for who he is.

Maybe deep down I'm still too ashamed of the dark places in me to subject another person to what I keep hidden.

At this very moment, I feel particularly afraid of the notion of being emotionally and spiritually accountable to a man. I hear the call to be a rolling stone that gathers no moss. But that rolling stone paradigm is largely a defense mechanism. I became that stone out of the fear that if I ever stood still long enough I would only discover that I was unwanted anyway.

So, what if I decided that I am ready to open up my heart for inspection? Would he want to know those terrible secrets I've been keeping?

I might decide to be brave, and this could all still end up being moot.

A Third


Ten years old!


How Old is Your Inner Child?
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Comments?

My comments are AWOL. If you've seen them, please tell them to report to me immediately!

Labor Day

I only worked for about half hour today editing some art curriculum. I'm getting to the point that if I'm not at work, I'm not really sure who I am or what I'm doing.

The rest of the week

I may be AWOL for a couple of days. School Starts tomorrow, and I expect there may be glitches that keep me from the world of blogging for a couple of days. I have counseling on Wednesay night, and then... well, the big day....

Twilight

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Ghosts of Hair and Flowers

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

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

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

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

Ladies' Room Ettiquette

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

Reflections/Commentaries, Etc. On Turning 30

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

Riyo - "Logical Change"


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

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

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

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

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

How old am I, in light of that?

Sunflowers, Part II

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

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, Again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The View From My Cubicle Window

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

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

The Passing of Time After a Significant Event

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Domestic Bliss

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seer


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19 days til 30...

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

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

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

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

Can't believe I forgot to mention this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

It was a great day.

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

Citizen Krupnik

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

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

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

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

Picking up stakes

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

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

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

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

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

And Lastly I War With Myself The Most...

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

This just in...

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

Feeling My Way

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Making Peace With The Way Things Are (Ecclesiates 3)

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

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

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

Let's Not Ruin This With Words

no response.

31 Days til 30

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

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

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

I asked him to come to South Dakota with me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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