The novel is humming! I'm nearly at 50 pages, and as the ever-supportive Catherine said, "Fifty pages is already a novella."

I have some odd duck events on the docket this week. Tonight, I am getting together with Intervarsity Christian Fellowship personnel at another alum's house for what... I'm not sure. A kind of meet and greet, perhaps? Yes, I think that's the closest to an actual event title. I was very involved in this group in college, and the staff person with whom our campus's chapter had the strongest affiliation is introducing the college's new staff worker to former chapter members. I have a continued vested interest in the campus ministry, especially since my sister will be participating this coming semester.

At some point, I am going to be getting the print from G to give to my friend and coworker who is relocating to New Jersey. I think this is happening on Thursday?

The most exciting of all these atypical events is that I will get to visit with the illustrious Devika and her Mr. on Saturday. How about sushi for lunch, D?

Aborted Attempts

The book club has essentially been defunct since it began. I don't understand why, but I have never been able to be part of a successful reading circle--in which everyone was equally committed. In this case the demise was sped up by the fact that a founding member is uprooting and another of us has taken new work and no longer has the same schedule. When you consider that there were only four of us to begin with, you can understand why it's ovah. We read and discussed one book together (not everyone could be present), the second book sucked so badly, half of us didn't finish (or start)it. What we had on our hands was an inorganic group with no synergy. It should have worked. Everyone was excited at the outset. We had a big "expectations" discussion, we picked books...

Sometimes there is no valid reason for things to crumble except that God knows something we don't. I don't want to wax too philosophical about a book club gone south, but as with all other things that peter out, I guess I just have to trust that had it worked, something else in my life that should be coming together, couldn't.

I now have 40 pages of the romance novel. Given when I started it, this isn't actually that great, but fits and starts aside, I remain committed to the process. I'm sure the pacing is off; I'm accustomed to writing poems, where the point, so to speak, gets made very quickly. This whole thing may be quite bad, who knows?

Dinner tonight was wild mushroom ravioli and a mango milkshake. I know that's an odd combination, but it was delicious.

I think I sprained my finger. While vigorously wiping down my kitchen counters, I managed to push too hard on the second to last finger, and though I can bend it and have full use of the hand, including that finger, it feels a bit stressed. It doesn't hurt, per se, but I do have an odd sensation when I apply pressure to it or use it in a certain way.

Am continuing to ponder the leather coat I first saw a month ago and nearly purchased this weekend. Almost ordered it online this morning, but stopped myself and forced myself to come to terms with the fact that I cannot afford it. Must. not. purchase. camel-coloured. leather. coat. even. though. I. would. look. great. in. it.

In all my grad school fantasies, I am wearing this thing. I am sitting outside a cafe at a table in mid fall when it's just getting cool, sipping a vanilla latte. I am traipsing about in Charles Village, doing my marketing, paying for things in cash. I am fresh from the hair salon, looking drop dead gorgeous, on my way to The Charles to catch a matinee.

This was to be my version of Audrey Hepburn's black dress.

The Devil Rides the MTA

Because I live and work in the city, I encounter a diverse cross section of city inhabitants. Everyone from the poor, disenfranchised to the academic, ecologically-minded; from the indigenous blue collars to the pretentious affluent.

On the particular bus line(s)that I ride, the contingent is largely the disenfranchised and ill poor. I see and smell the evidence of bodies rotting from the inside out, blank stares of the intellectually compromised, and during the school year, I ride the bus with students who bear the mark of parental negligence. Soiled, orphaned sheets of paper--homework, I suppose. No dog would eat it, that's for sure. They are often unruly, loud... as though they had "no home training."

Once or twice, I have seen the age old saga of the spirit realm in effect. There is a look a person has when he or she is demonically oppressed, or possessed. Frothing at the mouth, optional. This morning a gentleman who struck a decidedly discordant note boarded. His movements were jerky, his eyes wildly darting about, and he had such a malevolant air about him. When my eyes locked with his, I saw pure hatred. I was thankful that he disembarked before I did. His walk was an exaggerated stomp, and not the result of a physical disability.

In another instance, more than a year ago now, a man boarded the bus, and immediately began yelling in what I assume he thought was "revival fire and brimstone preacher style." His rant was pure babble and gibberish; he was erratic and I worried that he might become violent. I began to formulate a plan in case he began to exert himself. I was deeply troubled, and began to pray because I knew that something had a hold on this man. No sooner than I had the the thought, another man boarded. This man was wearing what can only be called a zuit suit. It was blue and pinstriped. He looked as though he did not belong to this world. He was carrying a huge Bible.

Literally, this man got on the bus, the yelling "preacher" ceased and desisted immediately, and got off as though his life depended on it.

Accessories Sold Separately

It began with a simple inquiry. What should I wear to my first grad school class? Catherine's answer was "chic, yet understated. You’re cool and hip and smart, but very approachable and ready for fun!" "Great...I'm Grad School Barbie; I love it," I told her. This yielded a fun exploration of the kinds of accoutrements that my barbie would own, and her corresponding Ken doll.

In case you were wondering, Catherine is Boston Barbie, and her plastic man is New England Ken. She has a variety of kerchiefs and fun summer skirts that you can purchase. New England Ken has a yacht and an M.I.T. education.

Grad school Barbie's accessories are an MTA bus pass, a stainless steel travel mug, and a messenger bag. Her boyfriend is Artist Ken, who sports a fedora, rides a motorcycle to drive his grad school honey around, and comes with a pallette and paint brushes. I think you see where this is going...

I bought a new printer over the weekend. It specializes in photoprinting, which I don't need, per se, but it will also print regular text documents. If I had been paying more attention, I probably would have gone with something else, but the price was right. Who knows? Maybe it will come in handy. Hewlett Packard was nice enough to include some photo paper gratis with the product so I've printed out a couple of photos, including one really close up one of Gordon that he took with Sarah's camera on the day of our road trip. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with it, now, but I'll figure something out, I guess.

I'm not exactly smarting over the leather coat I passed up this weekend, but I keep thinking about it. I'll get over it, I guess. I'm trying to prioritize all my needs--for a new cell phone, new coats, new clothes...

It is at times like this that I comfort myself with Christ's words: "Don't think about what you will eat or drink, for your Heavenly Father knows you need these things..."

My mom threw my sister Caryl a surprise birthday/going back to college party. It took place this afternoon at a local franchise--and several of caryl's friends, two of whom are from her freshman year at St. Mary's, came. She actually didn't suspect anything, which my mom wasn't sure she could pull off.

I had a nice, unexpected visit with Victoria and her husband after church. They came up to visit, and since we didn't get to connect after the service (I had to bolt since I was expecting a grocery delivery) they called me up and came over to hang out. I had such a nice time chatting with them. This is the kind of day that life is all about.

Since the Friday Morning Breakfast Meetings (read Carb-Fests)have been put on the back burner for the time being, I went to Whole Foods and got my own cooked breakfast this morning, complete with Nantucket Nectars Orange Mango juice. I don't need to tell you how delicious it is,do I?... I knew I didn't!

I pounded out three or four solid pages of the romance novel last night, including some good dialogue with the female protagonist and her mother. I would have written more, but I ended up on the opposite end of one of my mother's monolouges. I'm trying to make an effort to appreciate her more. I just can't stand when she starts rehashing the past...it's clear that she's trying to understand something. I'll admit, I often feel irritated, not patient, with this process.

Well, I must go do my online grocery shopping... more later.

I couldn’t bring myself to pour out my sister’s coffee; it was the most recent, most tangible evidence of her presence in my apartment. This is the first time in a week I’ve burned candles in the evening without her being here.

Caryl’s essence is grace and humour. We drove around the neighborhoods of Guilford and Roland Park with Sarah today; we admired the regal homes on Lambeth and Charles streets. It was a perfect end to an afternoon of games, coffee, cd burning, and a gelati run.
And it seemed right to be with my two girls… chilling in the sunshine after the storm.

It is far more common for me to be myself in these rooms of mine, to make tea for one, to board and disembark from buses alone…but she was here with me for five nights and five days, and it was easy to make room for her in my understanding of the immediate world I occupy. She makes sense in my landscape.

Our relationship transcends sorority and is steeped in shared Faith and a deep, spiritual bond. On this past Sunday after church, we read the Bible together and enjoyed a magnificent time of fellowship as we marveled at the sovereignty of God.

She is a silly heart, a little girl, a grown woman—stronger than me in so many ways, though 12 years younger. Caryl is a constant gift to me. Watching her ride away, I thanked God that I have been allowed to know her… to be in her life…

Stealing the Covers

Sharing a bed with my sister this week has been interesting. Because I only have a one bedroom apartment, we usually do when she visits, but this week, more than any other, I've paid attention to just how difficult it is to keep the covers equally distributed throughout a sleep cycle. And don't get me started on elbows...

Sharing sleeping space with Caryl is not unpleasant. She's not an uncommonly "wild" sleeper, she doesn't snore...but even with these ideal conditions, I still had to plan for the interruption of my own space continuum, as did she.

So, it's settled, nothing less than a queen size mattress the next time around. As with most things, I think of this kind of exercise (or epiphany) as a preparation for marriage. You know, if i didn't see sleeping together (actually sleeping,not euphemistically)as being crucial to couple intimacy, I wouldn't be against separate beds (in separate rooms) at all. Not so much because I don't want to be encroached upon, but because I don't want to encroach upon someone else with my talking in my sleep, moaning, and unfortunately, snoring...

Misunderstanding

I guess I'll begin with the very [now] commonplace proclamation that my company is on a fast track to obliteration--from the inside out. Someone else gave notice today. This time one of the technology gurus, who was brought on to amp up our product. He's been on board for about 5 months, if that. Essentially, in typical fashion, the lovely institution where I work brought this guy on and immediately dumped a clunkly project in his lap, told him to make it happen in about 3 months with limited resources and no real lead time. Something for nothing. Something for nothing. That's the office motto. The beautiful thing is that this guy's last day is Friday, because next week he's on scheduled vacation! Beautiful. Good for him.

Oh, then. The meeting. To avoid revealing too much, let me just say that it was to be a simple affair, but that it ended up raising some fundamental, philosophical questions... which are never good in a meeting in which an end result is being demonstrated. So, it's not "back to the drawing board," but more like "tweaking." It's not my burden, it just affects me because I have to edit it, of course.

Then the awkward financial misudnerstanding... well, not too awkward. But, I was under the impression that I was getting something for free, and as it turned out I was getting it at "no extra cost," which is different. It was the scenario with Gordon and the print... It didn't cause tension between us, but there was that moment when you have to say... "oh..right.." and I just felt kind of dumb.

Since I've been home I've written the MTA a quasi-scathing e-mail about their "schedule." I guess I thought the bus was supposed to come at the time printed on their timetables, and I guess they think the bus is supposed to come whenever. Whatever!

So now I'm home and have applied for a job (the 2nd; I applied for one on Friday afternoon, too), am eating leftover pizza, and consoling my sister who got together with a phone friend today. She was hoping he'd be attractive (at least to her); he wasn't, so now she's recovering from a less than thrilling "date," sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, kvetching to a friend.

Nobody was on the same page today!

Mango Pancakes

I woke up at 7:30 this morning to shower and wash and style my hair. My pixie's gotten some body and volume in the weeks since my last salon appointment, so I looked especially cute (I felt) in an oversized button down shirt and ripped jeans, with a bit of batter smeared on my cheek (unintentional).

I took the time to make the mango compote for the pancakes last night to save time this morning when I'd be responsible for making bacon, the flap jacks, coffee, and orange juice frothies (orange sherbet, mandarin oranges and pulp free oj with a splash of half and half,frapped in the blender).

Gordon didn't eat much, as I knew he wouldn't (not liking fruit, or much beyond toast for the inaugural meal of the day). But he ate some bacon, loved the frothie, and had the requisite cup 'o joe.

We took the painting outside so he could photograph it (in order to make the prints), he chatted amiably with me and my sister, checked out my new furniture and computer ("I love your opulent apartment,Kate."). I even showed him the two poems I wrote yesterday, of which I am extremely proud.

He had a full afternoon of errands lined up, so he left after an hour and a half--but I wasn't disappointed. I loved the vibe with him this morning... I appreciated how much he appreciated my hair... I am a woman, afterall.

There is a distinct chill in the air, reminiscent of the weather most common in the last weeks in September or the first in early October. The sun is out full force, but not obsessive in its ministrations, giving us all some healthy distance. It felt like the first day of school. Viscerally, I was back in 1989 grooving to Prince's Hits and B sides, standing at the bus stop with "Nothing Compares 2 U," and "Adore" filling my senses. It was perfect, cool enough for a sweater.

I'm also psyched because my Illume shipment arrived yesterday and now my house smells like this.

As if all this weren't enough, well I have to mention that I'm wearing red and tan sneakers. I'm digging the small pleasures today, like this cup of coffee I'm about to ponder.

Glamour Puss

I love having a subscription to Glamour Magazine! It is the most informative of the "fun" magazines that have women as a target audience. Of course, there are the requisite "Are you good in bed?" articles, but also wonderful op ed pieces on job place ettiquette, relationships with friends, family, and lovers, political pieces, and lately I've seen them (the editor and publishers) make a real push to make women who are more, well zaftig, feel let in from the cold by specifically including clothing and fashion tips for women of "any size."

I really benefit from the articles men write about relationships, too. I need a male perspective on these matters. I love reading it over the course of days, sitting on my couch sipping peppermint tea, letting the gusts of fragrance from the glossy pages wash over me.

31 Days to 31

"This is the year I will stop being afraid to succeed at work, in my relationship with the man I adore, in my finances, in ministry/church, and in establishing healthy boundaries with my family."

This is what I said last year, at 40 days out from my 30th birthday. How've I done? Let's see.

As for work, shortly after that post last year, I willingly threw myself into my job, assumed greater responsibility for projects, worked tirelessly, and did not back down from a passive agressive boss. Now, I am looking for a new job.

My relationship with the man I adore... a considerably more difficult thing to assess. Well, I can say that I am not afraid to succeed in a relationship with him. And as challenging as it has been, I have taken a few brave steps, in as much as the burden is on me to do so. Between now and roughly this time last year our ostensible relationship has not changed, but I have and he has. What that says for the future, well only a fool would say.

Church is an A++ since I am now attending church again (which I wasn't last year), and am pondering my place in the ministerial schema of my congregation. I am more grounded now than at 23,and I was able to really throw myself into things then. Maybe now I can pick one element of God's Kingdom to which I can really give my heart.

Family. I've had some clarifying discussions with my mother about boundaries. I'm learning. My relationship with my youngest sister continues to deepen. I have divested myself of almost all obligatory family scenarios, including how and where I spend holidays.

Here's what's markedly different this year:

I moved out of my high rise apartment into the more antiquated one I coveted.
I live alone.
I am a candidate for the M.A. in Writing at Johns Hopkins.
I have furniture that I picked out and bought with my own money.

I am leading the life I want to lead, though not everything is happening exactly the way I want it to,or on the schedule I'd like, but I can see that I've made progress. I'm moving forward, headed to something. I didn't waste the year.

Taboo

I've given a lot of thought to why so many Christians who attempt abstinence fail. I don't know any actual stats, but I read an article in a leading magazine recently that proffered some discouraging numbers. Many teens who made pledges of purity (a la "True Love Waits")a few years back have broken those pledges, and are unmarried.
My own church, several years ago, faced the issue of not being able to take sexual abstinence for granted among its members when a young couple (dating, not married) confessed that they were pregnant. The pornography industry is booming, as usual, and if we think that Christians don't contribute to that seemingly unstoppable machine, then we are choosing to be in denial.

I have a good friend who commented to me once that she noticed that sexual innuendo flowed freely among me and my Christian Fellowship friends during our undergrad days. She also noted that among her friends, most of whom were sexually active, that it happened markedly less. I suspect that was because our only outlet was those jokes. It was perhaps our way of dealing with this lumbering unknown. People who talk about things a lot are almost certainly not actually in the know... and that sets the stage for failure in most cases. I know most of the friends went further sexually [prior to marriage] than they intended in relationships.

I am not suggesting that abstinence is impossible, though I know it is difficult--even more so in a society that won't sell milk without infusing the idea of sexuality into its campaign. Sex and sexuality are at the core of our identity as people. It's not all that we are, but so much of how we determine who we are is filtered through that lens.

I think a lot of Christians are confusing honoring the sanctity of sex, and their abstinence from it until the right time, with denying its potentially staggering beauty, the unparalleled intimacy it can offer two people. It is perhaps an oversimplification of the issue, but most people would better be able to handle themselves in their efforts to refrain, if they didn't think of sex as something that is taboo. For the Christian to think, not "I can't have sex until I'm married," but rather, "I respect the act of sex so much, that I won't partake of that outside of God's provision, because I don't want it to be broken, out of synch, or defiling for myself or another person."

We have not put sex in its proper context, and that is the rub.

My middle sister asked me once a few years ago if I even have sexual feelings, if I, as someone who was then in my late 20s who'd never had the pleasure, even cared. The idea that one would only abstain if sex didn't matter to him or her is prevalent, unhelpfully, I might add, among many who are abstaining. Sex and sexuality are of paramount importance, and therefore easily corrupted.

I told my sister that I am excited about sex, conceptually. That I hold it, as an expression of a covenant between a man and a woman, in the highest regard--not just as a means to procreate, but as one of God's most lavish gifts. I respect sex and myself too much to have it capriciously, with someone who has not made a covenant with me before God and our friends and family. I take it too seriously to open myself up to any number of people. Just how many others should see me naked? Should have access to something so mysterious and hidden? My answer is of course, just one.

I wouldn't get a video rental card with someone if it wasn't serious, let alone enter into the very spiritual connection of sex without a mutual desire to be committed in marriage.

But, I have to admit, sometimes I think "Okay, well what if I die never having had that experience?" There are times when I cannot believe I'm in my early 30s, and have never been properly kissed. It's hard not to feel like a mutant freak. Worse, unfulfilled on a primal plane. I think "oh, is it really that big a deal?!"

It would be easy to sublimate, decide that sex is unimportant, dirty... the very trap that will lead to indulgence, I'm sure. There is a time and place for everything. I believe that I will be married, but that the time for that is not now. Delayed is not denied. There will be point at which that part of myself I have reserved for one man will be something I can offer, untattered and unreservedly, but not now.

In the meanwhile, my personal challenge is to regard sex frankly, informedly, spiritually, whatever... To remember its origin, not what we, as a society, have made it. The disconnect is significant.

I picked up some scallions, a zucchini, loose garlic, honey, Texmati brown rice, russet potatoes, and fresh greens from Wholefoods this afternoon. I am making blackened salmon, rice and green onions, and sauteed spinach w/garlic for dinner tonight. I'm also taking home some work to do while I indulge in my favourite Monday night pastime--the UPN lineup.

The proofreader at work has given her notice, which was in no way unexpected. We are friendly outside of work, and I've known of her pending move for quite some time, but today it became official.

Gordon will come over on Saturday morning, we've determined, to photograph one of his paintings of which I'd like him to make two prints for me. One is for my departing colleague, who requested it. If all goes according to my plan, my sister is coming into town on Friday evening afer work,and will stay with me through Wednesday of next week. It's exciting to think that we'll both be starting school in the fall.

Seduced by the Dollar Tree

Who remembered those "Everything's a dollar!" stores? It seems that I forgot, at any rate. On Saturday, Sarah and I made a trip to Payless because I badly needed shoes, and directly adjacent to the shoe store was one of these places. We went in on a lark, and I ended up getting so much great stuff for under twenty bucks! Let me recount the purchases:

4 scented candles {spiced pear, ginger snaps, vanilla, and carrot cake}
12 unscented tea lights
a refillable torch lighter
a set of 10 coat/clothes hangers in a nice mint green colour
trash bags {lemon scented}
paper towels
2 four-packs of toilet paper
a four-pack of AA batteries (!!!)
a round brush
hand lotion for my purse
cotton swabs
body wash
2 fine point Uniball Deluxe pens
1 gel impact Uniball Deluxe pen

I could hardly wait to get home so I could begin enjoying my new wares. In addition to these necessities (and a few fun things), I also bought three pairs of new shoes, and a new journal for notetaking from Barnes and Noble. I went into a Sprint PCS store and started windowshopping for new cell phones. I called my provider (Sprint) on Friday and they told me that I am indeed eligible for their phone rebate offers. So now, I just need a new printer and a new cell, and that will really end the big ticket purchases for a while.

I had a wonderfully relaxing time in VA with Sarah and her parents. Their new house is lovely and suits them very well. I love these people for many reasons, the least of which is not that they believe in a cocktail hour, honey. Sarah's dad makes the best gin and tonics. Last night we enjoyed London broil, eggplant parmesan, salad, and boiled new potatoes with butter, salt, and pepper.

Now I am back in my own digs with all my things about me. And I feel very settled in, ready to entertain a friend and her boyfriend for the evening.

The humidity has not been good for my hair! I hate that I only look kempt right after I leave my apartment, but arrive at work looking like someone whose mama never taught her how to use a comb.

Last night I wrote out checks for first of the month expenses, including the full amount of the computer I financed. Writing checks is at once empowering and disappointing. You know, sometimes I think about the fact that money is truly conceptual and arbitrary. The system only works b/c everyone has decided to attribute the same value to the same thing.

Oh, and what is up with the penny?! They really need to stop making those. Pointless!

I worked from home yesterday to accommodate the delivery of my new furniture, my digital cable upgrade, and the installation of a cable modem. My apartment is pretty well established now, and I am enjoying the fact that I've been blessed with so many wonderful conveniences at once. God is good!I still need to research renter's insurance. I feel the need to protect these investments. Anyone have any recommendations? I'm thinking of going with Allstate.

I'm heading off to Richmond with Sarah for the weekend. I want to see her parents' new house before my own life gets too hectic. I have a feeling my schedule is about to go from "98% flexible" to "hardly ever free."

Tidbit

Before the worship service began on Sunday morning a woman I know turned to me and asked if people ever tell me that I look like Oprah. There was a time when that remark would have offended me. But, as a matter of fact, people have told me that I remind them of O, though not that I look like her, per se. Either way, I take it as a compliment now. I don't agree with many of Oprah's opinions on a lot of things, but conceptually, she's a wonderful person to be likened to.

I went to a church information session after the service. I know what the congregation's mission is, generally, but as someone who is back after a long absence, I consider myself starting at the beginning with the benefit of prior knowledge. I was so moved hearing the pastor talk about his vision for this body of believers, and I knew, again, what it is like to want to throw in my lot with this group... to really want to belong to something.

Yesterday, during the trip home (while Gordon slept) Sarah and I discussed this ever present duality in me. The need to slough off associations, to belong to nothing, and the warring need to belong to a community, to belong to people, etc.

I feel safe and unconflicted at this church. I feel people wanting me to belong to them, and so I am unafraid. I feel allowed to guard my solitude, my anonymity when I choose that... allowed to fellowship when that is what I most need.

The trip was pleasant. I've been very detached from the angst of loving Gordon for the last week or so, so by the time Saturday morning came around, I knew I would be fine. That detachment served me well, and I did not feel myself becoming sulky or sullen or sad. We actually had some time alone. Sarah and a relative of hers went off for a half hour jaunt into town, so he and I sat underneath a tree, conversing, joking. It was easy. basic.

We lunched in town at a truly awesome place, and then headed home. Gordon dropped me off at my apartment. I was quiet in the car. I just didn't feel like talking. I'm noticing that I don't tend to have the energy to chat much these days. I am too busy thinking through my "to dos."  I was able to hand off the painting he's shipping to Devika for me. What a relief to know she'll have that soon.

I had a message from the cable company waiting for me. They've taken it upon themselves to reschedule my digital upgrade to Wednesday so that my cable modem installation can happen on the same day. That's fine. My new furniture is also being delivered that day. Yay for the 28th!

So much for that!

I set my alarm for 5 a.m., thinking I would aim to be to work by 7, because I am leaving at about 3:30 today.  Needless to say, since I didn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the alarm did go off, I knew there was no way. None. So, I'm here, roughly at the normal time, and still plan to leave early, because I have furniture to buy!

Thanks to Sarah, my old computer is now packed up and the new one is sitting pretty in my bedroom, all charming and whatnot. Of the many useful features it has, it boasts a DVD rom, which means I can finally watch the three discs I own. I actually have a standard DVD player, but have yet to get the router thing, so I've not been able to use it yet. Soon I'll be operating on all four jets, all my ducks will be in a row, etc.

I'm really thinking that it's time for renter's insurance.

I'm excited to call and donate my old computer to this worthwhile organization. It's fortunate that they will come to get the machine from me (at least I think they will). Tonight Sarah will come over and help me pack it up, and then set up the new machine. On Friday, I am trekking to Value City furniture to order a coffee table, a foyer table, and an end table. Once I have a delivery date for those items, I will set up a cable modem installation appointment, and kill two birds with one stone.

Saturday is the date of the long-awaited trip to Pennsylvania. I'm looking forward to it. Significant time in the car has a way of deepening bonds.

I received an ID card from Hopkins in the mail yesterday, but it said "STAFF." When I called this morning I was told that I have two records in the system (one from when I was an employee from 1995 to 1999), and that the "staff" card overrode the student one. They are correcting the error today and mailing out the correct one.

My stereo is on it's last legs. Of the three disc changers, only one is functioning properly. Fortunately, it's not that expensive to buy a new unit.

I was unexpectedly out of the office yesterday, because my computer was delivered earlier (by several days) than I anticipated it would be. So, now I have the machine, though it is not yet set up. That should happen tomorrow. I'll be getting a cable modem in a couple of weeks because I couldn't schedule the installation of that feature on the same day that I'm upgrading to digital cable (this Sunday afternoon).

I'm happy to be back in the office. I had too much time on my hands yesterday, and the real peach of the whole thing was that the delivery didn't happen until 5:15. I was kind of pissed that I waited till what would have been the end of my work day for something that was to be delivered between 10:30 and 2:00. I called UPS and told the rep how I felt.

On the upside, I did finish the book I was reading.

My Dinner With Gordon
 
I suppose I should rejoice that we are now so "familiar" with each other that he can point out to me that I have something in my teeth, and he can ask me to tell him "the moment [his] hair no longer looks good." I decided to be intentional about having a good time with him on Friday. No matter what preconceptions I had, I decided not to miss the point of the evening, whatever it was. So, I got all zen about it.
 
We sat in a booth that was a bit uncomfortable for me given that it seemed to have been designed with two heroin chic people in mind. Gordon, being slender, had no trouble. I didn't have "trouble," per se. It just wasn't effortless. It was not a secret that something bigger would have accomodated me better. So, I said to myself 'Kate, he can see you. He knows you're not a small person. Sliding into this booth gracelessly wasn't his first tip off.'
 
About two hours before he came to get me, I found myself becoming cripplingly sleepy, so I ate a donut and drank some sweet coffee to wake up. Eating the cake-like treat curbed my appetite, so I hardly ate anything at the restaurant. Gordon, however, was ravenous. I had never seen him wolf down food that way. Quasi-barbaric, but endearing.
 
This was hanging out, in every sense of the word. He chatted animatedly about his week, how he'd been something of a slacker, but hadn't meant to be. I told him that it seemed to me that all of his choices over the course of the last few days had taken him by surprise, and that perhaps making active decisions before he found himself in a moment would allow him more control over the passing of time... that he might get more done. I was playing the Wendy to his Peter Pan.
 
Okay, so whenever he asks about the novel I get non-committal. Gordon respects my poetry so much that he used to carry it around with him wherever he went. I can't let him read the romance novel, which is based on my own life, to some extent. But also, I can't tell him my nom de plume and the title of this pap, and trust that it won't tarnish his image of me as a literary lion. His respect of my art is the most defined thing about our relationship. I don't need that eclipsed by a project I've undertaken on a lark.
 
After dinner we drove around Marble and Resevoir Hills because he wanted to show me the architechtural features of some of the homes there. He told me he knows one thing for sure, and that is that he wants out of Baltimore. Gordon has wanted to leave this town since I've known him, and it keeps not happening for various and sundry reasons that I've always attributed to divine providence. I wonder why Baltimore won't let him go. He looked at me once when we were waiting at a red light and said "Don't you ever get sick of this place?" I kept staring ahead, and told him that I came back to Baltimore because it's where I wanted to be. He shook his head, mildly incredulous that anyone could feel that way.
 
At one point when we were approaching the mouth of I-83, he lamented how many times he'd been on that road, how he knew every bump... how annoying it was.
 
"So, you want to live someplace where you don't know the bumps in the road?"
"Yeah... No, not really..."
"It must be so painful for you to live inside your own head where everything is an immediate contradiction."
"Exactly!"
 
And there you have it. Finding no easy place to park around my neighborhood, we made the mutual, but unspoken decision that he would not come in afterall. And that was okay with me, because I wanted to be alone to think. In some ways it would have been nice if he had been there when I opened my award letter... he would have been the first to know. The cookie didn't crumble that way, though, so I shared my news with my sister, who's alone this week while my mom cavorts in Reno with Jim.

I have always connected with God the most profoundly through my tears--they are the bridge to intimate worship and insight into His heart. This morning during the service I thought about the goal of the Christian, which is to be in fellowship with Christ by way of suffering, indeed, to know him better through a metaphysical death (and eventually an actual one) and resurrection. Being in that place of celebration and corporate worship, I found that my individual experience of His grace was emphasized, and my tears flowed through the duration of the songs and prayers. God was my first experience of acceptance as a child, His heart the first place of true welcome. And in moments of reflection, I long for Him to the point of pain...finding that I would die to disappear into Him, to just hang on Him, and there is no fear of being shunned in that desire.
 
Usually, my thoughts are too much of this world. I am preoccupied with the earth, but when everything but Him is obscured and distant, the joy is fierce, indistinguishable, in some ways, from sorrow. Perhaps this is real seeing, the intermingling of death and love.
 
I am at once sad beyond my own comprehension, and transcendent beyond belief.

Goals
 
I drew up a list of "Personal Goals for Summer 2004," broken out by month (June, July, August). For the most part, I am right on schedule. I've accomplished a few things that were slated for August earlier this month, and in other cases, a given goal might no longer be relevant, so it gets a deletion mark, not crossed out (there is a subtle but important distinction).
 
I'm planning a wardrobe revamp for next month, so maybe I'll work in the manicure I was supposed to get in June, then. Today, I have a hair appointment, then Artscape with Victoria... but first brunch with Sarah and Michael at Cafe Hon.
 
I will talk about last night's dinner with Gordon at some point. It wasn't "bad" by any stretch of the imagination. I just have to figure out the angle from which to write about it.

Sticking the key in the mail slot, holding my leftovers from dinner, I thought to myself 'I guess I've gotten all the good news I'm going to this week.' I  heard a concrete number in reference to my bonus (forthcoming), received the windfall from my old company, and bought a new computer all in the space of about three days. I figured I'd come to the end of my "good run." But, there was one more surprise... Hopkins sent an award letter. I've received a federal loan, more than enough for both semesters.

Gonna Get Myself Connected

I financed a new computer last night. Between my imminent bonus and the cashed out stock from my former company, I should be able to reduce some debt and pay off the loan I got to make this mini miracle happen. It was killing me to have to be online for 40 minutes (in some cases) to send a few e-mails. Anything more involved than that? Forget about it! I opted to buy my printer at a later date. I'm thinking that I'll get one around the time of my mid-August paycheck. My new machine should be arriving next Friday!

The book club has not yet met for various and sundry reasons. Last week it was because two of the four of us, after uncharacteristically busy months, had not progressed with the book. Now, today, one of our members has been knocked out by an unbearable tooth/mouth ache. I'm now on the group's third book--roughly 2 months ahead of schedule. In some ways, I like having my evening free to work on my novel and to eat a leisurely dinner, etc.

No sooner than I wrote the words "I haven't heard from Gordon since last Friday..." he called me at work. He said "I was just driving by your job and thought I'd call you." We talked about nothing in particular for about 10 minutes, during the course of which we also confirmed our dinner plans. I asked him to pick me up from work on Friday so we could eat some place closer to my office. It is his job to pick a place. I'm interested to find out which restaurant he chooses.

We touched briefly on the party I opted not to go to on Saturday. He expressed again that it was a shame I couldn't be there, and I agreed saying that I was "bummed" that I missed it.

Having had some time to think about it, I still think that I wasn't supposed to be at that party because I ended up having some amazing prayer time that night, but the reason I decided not to go was faulty. I am going to try my hardest not to let my insecurites keep me from enjoying my life. And I was rude about the woman to whom he gave a ride. I need to acknowledge that in print just as I maligned her in print. Here's the truth. Whatever her intentions or inclinations, she is a friend of his, and I need to respect her. My relationship with him will not be anything less than it is meant to be because of her or anyone else. Not even I can get in my own way if God is in this thing.

Working from home today has been productive. I feel that my editing is more focused in this space. I went to the dreaded One World for a Swiss chocolate coffee (medium, in case you were wondering)to go, and then came back to my apartment just as it started to rain in fat splats. In an instant mashed potatoes snafu, I ended up using all my half and half so I was forced to venture out for my daily dose. The Swiss chocolate was a great accompaniment to the maple and brown sugar pop tarts. I'll have to remember that combination.

I've been giving my sister "assignments" over the summer, including, but not limited to: developing schematics, assessing her own personal style, and writing essays. She is such a good sport; it actually thrills her to be given a new task. We also have an end of telephone conversation ritual. We each have to tell each other "something good."

Before we're about to say good-bye, one of us (usually me) will say "Let's do our something goods." Essentially, we take a moment to intentionally speak well of the other, to praise an improvement we've noticed, to "bless" an event that's coming up by proclaiming that it will be phenomenal, etc. The Bible says that we should "speak things that aren't as though they were," and that "faith comes by hearing." I guess you'd call them benedictions.

I printed out the 19 or so pages of the romance I'm working on and I see that I need to add some transition paragraphs, and make a decision about the lenght of my heroine's hair. It seems that she moves seamlessly from having a pixie cut on one page to wearing a "severe school marmish bun" on another. I guess I had two different concepts of her. Either way, I think she needs longer hair. No romance novel I ever read featured a heroine with short hair. I need to remember my target audience.

I've decided to work from home tomorrow. I need to focus. Too many interruptions at the office, besides it'll be Wednesday and as I've already established, that is the best day to be out of pocket.

Haven't heard from Gordon since last Friday and we are slated to go to dinner this Friday. I'm hoping he's open to do something in Fells Point. I already told him we're boycotting the One World Cafe: House of Disappointment.

Remembered

I had an increasing feeling of a homecoming in church this morning. A few more people, including the pastor, who were not there last week were in attendance this morning.

I saw the pastor's only son (he has four daughters in addition to this one boy) standing on the steps of the church building, just as he might have six years ago, when I was last there. "I haven't seen you in half a decade," he said smiling. I nodded, affirming that it had indeed been that long.

I remember this person as a young child. Now he's a young man, truly handsome, with the presence of someone who is coming into himself. He's probably been in love and kissed several girls since the last time I laid eyes on him.

The scriptures and worship songs featured in today's service really confirmed things that God has been revealing to me over the course of the year. I felt affirmed by the enthusiastic greeting I recevied from so many old friends, including my beloved pastor, who hugged me warmly after the service. He shared with me that not that long ago he came across the remarks he made about me the Sunday in 1996 that I became an official member of Faith Christian Fellowship. It seemed to me to be foreshadowing of my return.

Another member smiled brightly and said "I hope you are back for a while!" I stayed for the adult Bible study after the service, and talked with a couple of people who became members after I left, and so had no knowledge of my previous life at Faith. It's just easy and right being there--there is no awkwardness when you are where you are supposed to be, I guess.

I've come to the conclusion that I put way too many restrictions on situations and myself in situations, and that this prevents me from enjoying my life as it unfolds. I don't want to miss out because my concept is not lining up with reality. I'm realizing that reality is often better than my idea of what things ought to be.

I napped to Joni Mitchell's "Hejira," which eventually switched to Radiohead's "Kid A," for a couple of hours this afternoon. I woke up this morning at about 9:15, made some pancakes, and ate them while cranking out more of the dime store novel. I now have 18 pages. I guess eating flap jacks and cranking out pulp is tiring work! Now I'm listening to NSync's last studio effort, "Celebrity," drinking some coffee, and getting into the blogging vibe.

In an effort to stay on top of grad school stuff, I have been very proactive with Hopkins though they seem to have forgotten about me right after they admitted me. I wasn't even mailed the Fall semester catalogue, so I went online, downloaded the registration form, and mailed in my course registration. Because I have yet to hear from them about financial aid (and won't find out until the end of July), I had to indicate that my method of payment is TBA. Lame.

The registration office did e-mail me to ask for a promisory note in the event that I don't get any aid. Fortunately, an e-mail from me sufficed, so now I am enrolled in two classes for the fall term. I hope that it's not like pulling teeth every semester.

I am still learning to negotiate the pas de deux that is my relationship with Gordon. Our mutual friend and her husband are throwing a party today, about an hour away. My lack of a car is really beginning to be a problem. Unless I was offered a ride with another Baltimore local, I knew I wouldn't be able to make it. It's just as well, since the parties this person throws tend to be hard for me, for a number of reasons. But, I really wanted Gordon to want me to go. And in the course of an exchange about other things, he did offer to give me a ride. However, he's also giving someone else a ride. As a woman I know that this woman really wants to get close to Gordon, and I didn't think that my being in the car with them would be a good scene. I would be surly and annoyed, and would end up making myself miserable. If you've ever sulked at a party, you know it's not the way to go.

Gordon knows I don't like this person, so when I begged off, I feared that I would come off as childish, but I know whatever impression he has of me for letting this dame be a dealbreaker is better than the one he'd have of me if I lost it on her in his car.

And by the way, she so has a vehicle of her own. Dubious.

It's not that I worry that something will happen between them; I don't. I just hate social usurpers, and that is the kindest thing I could call her. And really, with us both in his car, what would separate us in his mind? We're two women who can't even drive ourselves to a party. I'm too prideful, I know, but I can't play second fiddle to that sociopath.

So, again, I am choosing to take myself out of the equation. I just told him I would see him next week for our dinner engagement. Of course, we also have the roadtrip the week after that. So, I'm being selective about this one event instead of being an ass.

Aromatherapy Dishwashing Liquid

I know that these so-called aromatherapy household cleaning products are the latest marketing ploy, and I have fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Does anyone need lavender and ylang ylang essences in their Palmolive? Probably not, but that's the kind I just bought. The point is that for under 3.00 you can not only buy a bottle of soap that will last about 3 months (not bad) or more, but you can fancy yourself a progressive, interesting person just by washing your dishes.

So, as I sit in my vintage apartment drinking a double spiced chai, writing a romance novel, and gabbing on the phone with my sister, I have a benevolent feeling of well-being. I'm doing okay for myself, I think, somewhat self-congratulatory. I have cutting edge dishwashing liquid. Right...

Laundry, usually my favourite chore, was made rather complicated last night by an inconsiderate soul. I live in a building that boasts one communal laundry room. Four washers and four dryers. In a building of about 30 to 40 apartments, that is reasonable, but not by any means a lot. I always try to monitor my washer and dryer cycles down to the minute so that others don't have to deal with my lag time, or worse, decide whether or not to remove my clothes so that the machine can be made available.

Some guy was using all four washers when I took down my stuff. They were all silent but full of men's clothing and underwear. I left my basket in the basement and went back upstairs to wait. I waited about 35 minutes before I ultimately removed clothes from two of the four machines. Of course, I had the same issue to confront when it came to the dryers.

Other than that, I had an inordinate amount of trouble with my internet connection, and feel again, the absolute need for a newer, faster computer. Small steps. Small steps.

Dinner, once I finally got it made, was very good. I used a K.C. Masterpiece Honey Terriyaki barbecue sauce, dijon mustard, honey, and brown sugar to baste some spare ribs. I sauteed fresh zucchini in olive oil and sprinkled with salt. It was a nice combination. I'm looking forward to leftovers.

A business-related e-mail to G yielded dinner plans for the 16th. He's still being proactive about getting on my calendar which is a welcome change from the old order of things.

I am so relieved to be going back to work tomorrow. I feel like a fish out of water, and need the structure of tasks and deadlines to give my days a shape.

I've had no agenda since Sarah and I parted ways on Friday night, social or otherwise, and I feel that I am on the verge of losing my sanity. Not only have I finished the first book the group will be discussing this coming saturday, but I have also finished the second book, not to be discussed for another month yet! Of the things I am hoping to get from my church experience, more opportunities for social outings is one of them. I'm sure school will help with that too. I need to be moderately busy or else I lose my focus. Aimlessness is bad for the soul. I updated my resume last night. It took all of five minutes, and then I was idle again.

I did end up seeing my sister for a couple of hours on Saturday night, which was nice, but I'm looking forward to her coming back in a couple of weeks. Artscape will be in full swing the weekend of the 16th and 17th, and I think she'll enjoy going to that.

Let me take a moment to be grateful. I've been kvetching incessantly lately. I am grateful for having engaging outings and plans for the rest of the weekends in July. I am grateful that I have a job which allows me the ability to live alone, pay bills, eat, and enjoy a level of comfort that so many don't have. I am grateful that I am starting grad school in the fall. I am grateful that I will be able to pay off some debts in a few weeks. I am grateful for my relationships with my sisters. I am grateful for the Monday night UPN network. I am grateful for bus fare and clean laundry. I am grateful that I live exactly where I want to live, and finally, I am grateful that God has given me a dream He intends to fulfill.

Have a wonderful night; I hope your tomorrow is even better.

You can't go home again, or can you?

Even though I returned to my beloved Baltimore City two years ago this month, I did not automatically return to the church that had been my home, inseperable from my concept of this town, before I left.

I have always believed that you can't go home again, or rather, that you shouldn't. I didn't want to live the exact same life I had here before. I didn't want to assume that God wanted me to slide right back into my previous niche. I didn't want to be defined by the person I had been back in 1998. I didn't want to run the risk of becoming a cliche.

When I attended Faith Christian Fellowship from 1995 to 1998, there was one type of member I feared becoming. There were about 5 older women who were pillars of the church. Very committed, fun, intelligent women with a lot to offer, and who offered their resources and their time willingly. These women were all upwards of 45, and had never married. They were not likely to be married for a garden variety of reasons, ranging from church demographics (Most men their ages were already married) to aesthetics (a couple of them were not physically attractive). As a 22 year old, I already feared this fate overtaking me. I worried that it was my cross to bear, and the thought of going back to a church I had first attended in the proverbial summer of my life with my proverbial autumn fast approaching, depressed me. The church can be the most lonely place for a single adult who does not have a vision for permanent celibacy.

I still remember quite clearly the Sunday morning I was sitting in one of the front pews when the Lord spoke to me, almost as a sidebar, and said "your husband is not coming through this church." The revelation took me aback, because for once the topic of marriage was far from my thoughts. I was on the outskirts of facing the fact that I knew it was time for me to leave FCF. Shortly thereafter, I did officially leave, and I moved to Gaithersburg by that time the following year.

That piece of information is not what led me to leave, because I remember thinking "Okay, God, well in a couple of years when that's an issue, I'll deal with this." I actually forgot about this conversation the Lord and I had until I was well into the process of withdrawing my membership.

So, my own fears of looking like an old maid coupled with the understanding that the primary relationship of my life would not be initiated through my association there, left me feeling like "what's the point?" when I did come back to town.

I know that "everything works together for the good of those who love God," (Romans 8)so I have to believe that the two years I've been back, not attending Faith, have happened just as they should have. When it was time for me to be in a corporate worship setting again, the Lord made it plain to me, and I was ready to go to see, at the very least, if I should again avail myself to this body of believers, or if I should close the door once and for all.

The more things change the more they stay the same. I saw so many familiar faces. It was as though nothing had changed, yet the faces of the adults I knew and loved are older, hair is gray now (or more gray), wrinkle lines and smile lines are cut deeper. And the children whose wounds I have dressed, whom I taught in Sunday School, that I hugged as babies, not even school age, are all grown up.

I had a very significant friendship with the pastor and his family, especially with his oldest daughter. She was in her early teens when I first came to the church. She is now 24, two years older than I was at the outset.

I sat there singing songs I sang the last time I was there, six years ago, feeling like a prodigal daughter who wonders if anyone will remember her and be glad of her return. I had to confront the fact that I am nearly 31, and things have not gone according to [my] schedule. I have to trust that other people will not see me as I see myself. A failure, an unpopped kernel, a sexless spinster.

I don't know what the ultimate purpose in my returning is, but all I can do is be faithful to what I do know, and go back next Sunday.

Lamb and Rice

After checking in on Karen's cat last night, Sarah and I headed to the Glory Days Grill where we shared a buttery crab dip appetizer. My meal was a less than stellar plate of chicken tenders, but c'est la vie. Afterward we headed to the Barnes and Noble in Towson where I perused several books over a coffee, but purchased none.

I slept in this morning, and enjoyed a couple of pieces of oven toast and peppermint tea before heading to the supermarket to get a few necessities like olive oil and half and half.

Before I left my apartment on Wednesday evening, I set some lamb chops down in the fridge to thaw. Tonight for dinner, I made the last of my basmati rice tossed with scallions and onions and lamb chops pan sauteed in butter and the dijon, honey, balsamic, olive oil, and garlic marinade that I concocted. When the meat was ready, I set the chops on a plate and poured the pan drippings into the rice.

I'm excited about going to church tomorrow morning. I trust that the message, whatever it is, will be timely.

My sister, as it turns out, is not coming. I'll try to connect with her in a couple of weekends, maybe.

Birthday Fusion

This is an interesting time. Wednesday marked Sarah's last day at work;it was another coworker's final day as well (she and her husband are moving back to Miami). We went out for dinner and drinks, a kind of "last hurrah," to commemorate just how much fun it has been to be on this ride together. We were joined by another woman, who, like me, will still be reporting to that pirate operation we call a job on Tuesday morning.

Walking out of the building at the end of the day on Wednesday with Sarah(I actually did make it in for the latter half) gave me a distinct feeling of foreshadowing. I felt like I was leaving for good. I know my departure is imminent, but the end has not yet come for me.

Sarah's birthday was relaxing. We kicked about in the morning, very leisurely and low key. She opened the present I got her at about noon and LOVED it. Later in the day, we had to go to the MVA so she could get her license renewed. She also went clothes shopping and found some great stuff for summer and fall, including a lovely outfit that she wore to dinner last night.

The food was delectable. We all (Michael joined us) got the prix fixe menu, which included a hawaiian sampler appetizer, an entree, and dessert. Michael and I both got Hawaiian Martinis. Ms. Sarah got a Mai Tai. When it was time for dessert, it was chocolate souffle all around. I appreciated that Michael took the liberty of ordering for all of us (after knowing for certain what our selections were). Sometimes it's nice to let someone else just take care of things for you. I felt so honoured when he said "The ladies will have..."

I'm still at Sarah's now, but will be going home in a few hours. My sister is coming to see me tomorrow. I'm looking forward to a weekend of tidying, laundry, and reading. I've been out of the office so much lately, I can't distinguish one day from another. It's all felt like one ongoing fin de semain to me.

The highlight of our day today was the snowcones she made us with the ice shaver Karen gave her. Mine was grape flavoured with Malibu rum.

In other news, I'm on page 2 of the romance pulp novel I'm writing. It will be tres intriguing.

Something else on the horizon:

Going to PA with G and Sarah on the 24th. I have a feeling that will be an outstanding day.

Unexpectedly, I am home today. I am waiting for a package of incredible importance, and my rental office is not open on Wednesdays (UPS would normally leave parcels with the leasing agent). I'll end up making up the hours since I am taking an unscheduled day. Tomorrow and Friday were planned vacation days, so with Monday the 5th off in addition, I will not be returning to work till just shy of a week from now.

I had a great conversation with Gordon yesterday. When I got in from work, I had a very uncomplicated, but pronounced desire to talk to him, so I called him with no agenda except to hear his voice. He was on his way to church, so we talked for the length of his drive. I enjoyed hearing his obvious pleasure when I said "I just had the urge to talk to you..." I told him about the macked out present I'm getting Sarah (which is the package I'm waiting for), we chatted about him going up to Boston to maybe do a cityscape for Catchka. I joked that I am essentially his art dealer and that I have gigs planned for him that he didn't even know about. It was nice to be the voice in his ear, knowing I was having that moment with him, without physically being there.

I know you're thinking "Jeez. It was a phone call. What's the big deal?" The thing is that G and I don't really have a phone relationship. We primarily do e-mail and face to face visits, so oddly enough, a call is a real treat. Honestly, i felt so content afterward, that I sipped honey right from the plastic container. Access to him is much easier than I make it a lot of the time. I realize that if I want this man's heart, I can't see it as an elusive thing. Gordon is very uncomplicated in some ways. I mean, he has funks that he slips into, but he prizes the presumption of other people. It makes him feel loved when he is called out of himself into another place.

We are both instinctively internally focused, so it will take effort to make the leap. I'm not saying I plan to be the only one making this effort, but I can and should sometimes. Little moments of courage, like ringing him up out of the blue. A needless boundary erased.

Potential Money Maker

Hmm... I regret to admit that I went through a phase in my mid teens where I read a Harlequin Romance novel a day. This could be easy money.

I probably won’t get a chance to write again for a couple of days, so I’ll let this be my last hurrah before going into the weekend of Sarah’s birthday party. Her actual b-day is July 1, but the party is tomorrow evening. I am so psyched about the gift(s) I’m getting her, but at her insistence will be saving them until next Thursday when we celebrate on a smaller scale the fact that she’s turning 29.

Tonight we have a lot of shopping, cleaning, and rearranging of furniture to do. Tomorrow will be all about prep work and cooking. I’m tired now, but I know that there is no rest for the weary until at least 10 o’clock tomorrow night.

As it usually does toward the end of the workday, the temperature in here plummets to what feels like 50 degrees. It’s about 4:30, and right on schedule, I have an air conditioner headache.

It’s raining and grey, heavy like soup outside. The tea I made earlier is cooled, but still pleasant. I’ve thrown out some papers that I no longer need and I am trying to get my arms around all the different projects at work. The summer will be hectic. Add to this mania the fact that I need to find a new job by November, and what I have myself here is a real adventure.

Things are wrapping up for my manager. I hear her emptying files and throwing things away in the cubicle next to mine. It is such an interesting process—divesting one’s self of things that are no longer relevant, yet that for so long, were the very lifeblood of one’s work identity. Whenever I leave a job there is a little melancholy mixed in with the happiness that accompanies starting a new chapter. I have always liked the end of things better than the beginning.

What In The World is Wrong with the One World Café?

The One World Café first came to the corner of Canterbury and West University Parkway in the late 90s, or perhaps as late as 2000. Before that, it had a more southern city locale, and was touted by most as an innovative organic option amidst a sea of other coffee houses in Baltimore. I was doubtful, being a carnivore’s carnivore. However, I figured that as long as they offered half & half for the coffee, I could deal.

Before an ill-thought move away from Charm City in May of 1999, I had only been to the One World in Fells point (I believe that was the original location, but I wouldn’t swear by it), but one weekend in 2000 I was visiting a friend who’d just moved to the fringe Roland Park neighborhood in which the One World now resided. She was delighted to have this treasure within walking distance of her new apartment.

The food was good, the coffee was brewed to perfection, and I’d never had a mixed berry smoothie so delicious.

Fast forward to the summer of 2004. In an interesting twist of fate, I now reside in this same fringe Roland Park neighborhood, and can spit at the One World from my apartment.

But these days, you enter the front door, sit down, and your table may or may not have been wiped. The cream will separate in your coffee if you don’t drink it inside of 2 minutes (because it’s so tepid), or, it tastes as though it has been brewed with cigarette ashes. The thick white mugs (which should be excellent at retaining heat but aren’t) are scuffed and scraped, and feel dirty in your hands, even though you assume they’ve been washed.

Which leads me to the hot pink lipstick my friend found on his water glass the other night… he only saw this after he’d had a few sips. I ordered French fries and a grilled cheese sandwich. The fries were cold when they came out. Cold and stale. So cold and so stale that the ketchup I used congealed on them in mere minutes. Between my friend and I, we ate a total of about 7 of them. When the waitress, who, like so many of the servers there, had a sanctimonious and superior air, finally troubled herself to return to our table, there sat the enormous plate of papas fritas, bearing more resemblance to little tomb stones than anything else.

It was a personal test for me to see if she would remove them from the check, or even ask if there had been a problem with the uneaten food. No dice. I guess after cornering the market, literally, on coffee shops that neighborhood residents can walk to, the folks at the One World don’t really have anything to reach for anymore.

And I guess this is working for them for now…since they’re always busy enough, but as for me, I’m willing to walk a little farther for cleanliness and hot food.

Putting the Cart Before the Horse

I've been out of step with God lately. It was not three months ago that I told him in a prayer that I would rather have intimacy with Him than anything else. This is before I had moved, gotten new couches, and when I was still pretty much on hiatus from a lot of my social interactions with friends.

During this time of consecration last winter I had recommitted to tithing, I was more prayerful, and I had a lot of focus at work, I just knew that I was really in fellowship with the Lord.

I've gotten lazy in light of God's blessings, and I've started putting a greater premium on things. Is it any wonder that I've lost my focus, my motivation, and that my finances are again out of whack, because I've been on a tithing break, no longer seek God with my heart every day? The Bible says that where a man's treasure is, there will his heart be also. It also says that seeking God's kindgom first ensures that the Lord will take care of every other need that I have.

I know this works. I am a witness to the faithfulness of God. So, why then do I grasp? Why then am I even tempted to make everything and everyone else more of a priority? In addition to catching up on some rest today, I am also reorienting myself to the Spirit of God.

I know that intimacy with Him is sweeter than anything else I crave, and actually facilitates enjoying every other relationship, and every other blessing so much more.

I can't sleep. I feel anxious about a great many things at the moment, and rest is elusive. It's been an interesting day. Essentially, I seethed over feeling unimportant to G from last night until about 5 p.m. this evening, and felt justified in stewing until it dawned on me that I'd handled the situation with him very passive-aggressively. I did a bit of soul searching and came to the conclusion that I needed to apologize to him for employing "conversational parlour tricks" (i.e., sarcasm as a smoke screen for hurt feelings) instead of asking him if he would have rather ended early and tried to get together another time... or, at least letting him know how bad I felt that he was so distracted. Honesty is disarming. Instead, by joking about it, I allowed him to not have to really address the issue, and it did us both a disservice.

He's replied, essentially saying that it [my infraction] was no big deal, and apologizing for being so tired. He vowed to have a double espresso next time so he'd be ready to talk. Why don't I feel better?

What I neglected to mention about our evening is a lot. There were several nice elements...encouraging sentiments, and at the end of all of it, I did enjoy seeing him. I think I just put way too much pressure on myself to have every interaction with him be great. I need to step back from that mindset, because it's preventing me from letting things come as they will.

I think that my completely out of synch sleep schedule has compromised my perspective on this and other matters, so I am going to take a mental health day to recover some lost ground. It's just shy of 3 a.m., and I'm not in bed, so going in to work tomorrow would not be pretty.

On other fronts, I'm noticing that my manager is still ruling with an iron fist, even though her days at the company are rapidly dwindling (3 left). I guess it's hard to let go.

CATS was wonderful, by the way. I am not usually a fan of musical theatre, but this was an engaging show. I especially appreciated how much care the actors took to really emulate the movements and behaviors of felines. Really a very credible presentation, especially for regional dinner theatre, which I've found to be lacking in other instances.

I could have had a V8!

My outing was lacking... first of all, I was awfully tired all day today. So tired in fact, that for the first time ever it occurred to me to postpone plans with Gordon, but since I am going to be busy for the forseeable future, I downed some strong coffee and ate a Snickers bar. In essence, I rallied.

He, on the other hand, was so tired he could have taken a nap right at our table, and nearly did. He was sleepy to the point of distraction... he kept staring down at his feet, or up at the ceiling, so at one point, I said very plaintively "Do you intend to look at me at all during this converstaion?" He told me he was thinking, then made it a point to stare at me in this exaggerated way for the next 30 seconds.

Oddly enough, I would say that our conversation was fine, for what it was. Him kvetching and me being mildly amused by it. I wore a smirk on my face for the duration of our sub par experience. It's not that I had a bad time as much as it is that I could have been doing something different and had just as good of a time. I could have contemplated my navel and felt better about it than I did this outing.

My mistake was in thinking that his seeming insistence about getting together meant that it was a priority... forget about my romantic delusions for a moment, and let's just put this where it belongs. Squarely in the friend zone. I was an afterthought. One more unremarkable thing he did today.

And he, sadly, was more unremarkable experience among the many I had today as well.

It's so funny; he looked especially nice tonight, and in some ways, between yawns, he was especially funny and charming. But it wasn't enough.

I'm going to bed.

It's been a wonderful weekend... and it's stil going. Yesterday, Sarah and I hooked up with our pal Naomi who left the area in January to head back to New Mexico. She has been on the east coast for about a month for an extended visit, and so we drove down to Montgomery county where she is based until Thursday. The rapport we have with her is easy, and the laughs were abundant. Sarah and I each have a great friendship with her, independent of each other, of course, but it's even more fun when we're all together.

My mom and co are arriving at about 4 to spirit me away to CATS, but in the meantime I'm nursing some Eight O'Clock Coffee from a favourite mug, and I'm waiting for my groceries to arrive. I've decided that I'm wearing grey slacks, a crisp white blouse, and black pumps to the show. I'll have my black cardigan along in case I get chilly at any point, besides it dresses up the casual of the white button down shirt a bit more.

I've received some happy news. My former company is going to distribute my stock earnings to me by way of a check in about a month or so. It's not what I would call a lot of money, comparitively speaking, but it's not chump change either. It will help with grad school expenses, certainly. I may be able to buy a really nice laptop at minimal additional cost to myself. We'll see.

Well, I guess I'll go peruse my new "Entertainment Weekly." It seems that Christian Bale is slated to be the new Batman. I think he's so "very very."

I laughed! I cried! It was better than CATS!

My mother called me at work this morning to offer me a free ticket to CATS... a dinner theatre version. Of course I'm going! I love spontaneous social outings. I'm going to go with her, Jim, and my sister Caryl. So, in short, I'm getting some free entertainment, however sub par it might be, a meal, and the chance to see my mom and my sister twice in the space of one week.

I'm loving the thought of Sunday so far. I'm going to church for the first time in months; I'm having groceries delivered to me on Sunday afternoon, and then a night out. All of this excitement leading into Monday, which is the start of my manager's last week, and drinks with Gordon. All very promising stuff.

Let's not even talk about the fact that I am spending tonight and tomorrow night at Sarah's, and that we will be making lemon squares!

On a less joyous note, we found out yesterday that our office may be moving as early as January to a location close to BWI. That will make it officially inconvenient for me, considering the flexibility I'll need to have in order to accommodate my new grad school schedule. It looks as though I'll need to be looking for something else, personnel shifts or not.

Also, found out that bonuses don't come till the end of July. Something of a bummer, but I'll live. Have an awesome weekend, everyone.

And Devika, if you remember your dream, please tell me about it!

Facing Myself

I had a disturbing dream. In this dream, I was at a function with several friends, including Gordon. At the end of the function (not sure what was being celebrated, or if there was a specific occasion), I was offered a ride home by my good friend,Victoria. Sarah and Gordon were also in the car. Just as we were about to pull off, another girl who is a friend of Gordon's and Victoria's in "real life" asked if she could also get a ride. Everyone waited for me to give the okay. I understood that this girl did not have to ride with us, that she had other options, but I still didn't feel that I could be presumptuous enough to say no. So, I acquiesced, and felt usurped by her presence.

After we were dropped off at my apartment building Sarah asked me when I was going to exercise my right to say no to some requests. She told me that I had the right to tell that girl she couldn't ride with us. Essentially, in this case, I did not have to let someone else come between me and Gordon.

The dream took a turn when I saw Gordon talking to another girl (a blonde)in the lobby of my building. I understood that she was an ex-girlfriend, but that they had an active connection, emotionally. I heard him ask her why she was not wearing anything personal of his. The moment was tense between them, but I could also feel their history palpably, and took it as a sign that I needed to pack in any hopes of being with him.

I went up to my apartment and planned to get very drunk. There was a knock at my door, and I knew it would be the girlfriend from the lobby. She was accompanied by two large men who were there to protect her (should things get ugly with me, I suppose). I had a very large bottle of alcohol in my hand, and she said something to the effect of:

"Yeah, getting drunk is probably a good idea for you..."

She proceeded to tell me off in no uncertain terms, and to let me know that she and Gordon were very much apart of each other's present. I am under the impression that I attempted to downplay my interest in him in the dream, and so her attack became personal. She went away and then came back again, and this time she said:

"Look at you! You are so sloppy and fat... and by the way, Gordon is really disappointed in your body..."

Her tone was vicious, and I was yelling something in defense of myself, but I don't remember what I was saying.

I woke up feeling so disturbed, because it was clear that this girl that was talking to me was my own interior monologue.

Newly Shorn

I haven't had a proper hair cut in several months, so I made a salon appointment, took the day off work, and invited my sister up from the DC area to hang out with me.

I feel significantly less rag-tag with my locks chopped and coiffed, but it was so expensive (as it usually is). I'm essentially out of money again after having paid all my bills, done laundry, and giving Gordon the balance of what I owe him for the painting.

As it turns out, my sister is staying with me an extra night. She'll ride the bus with me in the morning, and get off at the train station, and I'll continue on to my connecting bus, and proceed to work as usual.

I've decided that Wednesday is really a great day to be out of the office. It breaks up the week so nicely. But, honestly, I'm loving every day now that I now my boss's days are numbered.

Other things to look forward to:

1. Bonus
2. Going to church on Sunday
3. Drinks with Gordon on Monday

I had way too much time on my hands this weekend. I self-introspected myself into a low-grade frenzy yesterday. I just sat around mulling over how I’m in a holding pattern, financially and relationally. If my sister hadn’t called and rescued me from myself, I probably would have lit my couches on fire just to have something to do. I was so motivated for action, I created a budget projection sheet in Excel. If you know me, you can appreciate the state of mind I had to be in in order for that to even seem like a remotely appealing idea. Now, I have nothing against Excel sheets; I just don’t make them, because I think in Word, not Spreadsheet. Desperate times, people. Desperate times.

I would be lying if I said it didn’t thrill me to bits when Gordon wrote me again yesterday evening and basically said, “Are you coming to Sarah’s on Thursday or not? If not, then we will have to go out for a drink sometime…” I love this “If you want me girl, let me know” vibe he’s pulling right now.

Even if it isn’t as serious as all that, at least he’s being intentional, and that can only lead to great things. If that boy plays his cards right, we might get this thing airborne by summer’s end.

Right now I’m editing a company manual. B-O-R-I-N-G.

A House is a House For Me

I've recently turned my attention to home ownership. I'm not in process, but I've started thinking about where I'd want to own when the time comes.

My bus route in the morning travels south on St. Paul Street, and on the way home in the evenings, north on Calvert Street. Between the 2700 and 3100 blocks of these streets are the best houses in Historic Charles Village. Built at the turn of the last century, or in the late 1800s, they are true treasures. Many of them have been converted into apartment homes, and rented to students and other transient types. However, some of them are still perfectly intact inside, structurally speaking. I have decided that I want to buy and live in one of these homes. Very Old World Baltimore.

Lists

I am almost completely out of food. I've been concentrating on making strategic meals for the last couple of days, using up the last vestiges of things from the last shop, so I'll have room for new stuff when I bring in new market wares on Tuesday (my next pay day). I wrote an extensive grocery list yesterday.

My clothing situation is just as bad, but it's not just the case that I need to do laundry (and believe me, I do), it's that I also need my wardrobe replenished and revamped. A lot of my pants are wearing out in the seat, and I need more variety. It's time for a reinvention anyway. I have not made a list pertaining to this because it would be inexhaustible. I wish I had a 1,000 dollars up front that I could just spend on new stuff. I need so many things, it would take at least that to get me started.

Peeved

My hairstylist has yet to tell me what time my appointment is on Wednesday. I swear, if she didn't know how to cut my hair just right, I would go to someone else.

Resolution...Kind of...

Heard back from Gordon. He told me that if I wanted to mail him the money, that's fine... and added that he guessed he would maybe see me on Thursday. Que?

Close to The Chest

I have never negotiated relationships with men very well. This sad truth is not limited to romantic dalliances, but extends to boss to employee, friend to friend, and certainly father to daughter constructs, as well.

When it comes to love I am usually guilty of not having a poker face; even when I try to hide what I'm thinking, men can usually see right through to my deepest insecurities.

I bring this up today because my relationshp with Gordon seems to be waxing gibbous, and I suddenly feel a peculiar need to be guarded. Let me be clear, this is not about playing games, but more about not taking anything for granted.

Long story short, he and Sarah are getting together next Thursday to discuss a painting she wants to commission him to do for her. She offered to let me be part of this discussion, but I opted out, preferring to refrain from glomming myself on to their arrangement (I wouldn't have batted an eyelash at joining them in the past).

But, over the course of the last two days and a few e-mail exchanges with him, he's asked if I will be there (I said I wouldn't), suggested I come there (when I told him I was ready to give him the next installment of what I owe him for the painting I purchased a month ago), and expressed his hope that he would, indeed, see me there (in a separate e-mail about other matters).

I questioned my staunch position on not being there, but I decided that I did not want to be tacked onto someone else's agenda. I want him to make time to see me separately... but is this the point? I actually have no idea if I'm focusing on the wrong element of all this or not.

Anyway, what I've done is tell him that in an effort to get him the check sooner, I'd mail it. I assured him that we didn't need to get together in person for me to get him the money. I can't tell if he was simply trying to kill two birds with one stone, or if he actually just wants a reason to see me.

I fear that I am like Charlie Brown, turning everything into an existential crisis. I don't mean to, but at the same time, I don't trust my ability to read this landscape. I know my own heart; I know where I stand. I know what I have wanted this man to want from me for 5 years. I have wanted it so much, I let myself believe, on several occasions, that he was someplace, emotionally, that he just wasn't.

Here's the thing:

I don't want to be too quickly won, yet I don't want to discourage him, either. If I knew where he stood I wouldn't make this unduly difficult for him. By the same token, the one gesture I need Gordon to make is to demonstrate a real effort to be with me. No man has ever done that, and I think I need to know he'd go to great lengths to win my heart.

On a different, less confusing front, I'm happy the week is nearly over. My annual review went well; I've taken on some new responsibilities in light of the changing dynamic at the office, and now I'm just looking forward to the financial compensation that will come. I'll be doing the very grown up thing and using my bonus money to pay off some debt.

The First Saturday in June

Roughly one year ago today (taking the leap year factor into account)I was in Washington, DC with Gordon. We took a trip to the National Gallery, and it was pouring. I now refer to this day as our "soggy adventure." I was moneyless, without a functioning umbrella, and my shoes squeaked all throughout the museum.

I awoke this morning to the sound of rain batting the window panes in my apartment. I'd been dreaming of wretched interlopers of various types, all making clicking sounds. As soon as I'd rid myself of one, there was a new one with which to contend. My mother wove through these nocturnal images like a bright, but frayed thread.

As soon as I was conscious enough to consider extracting myself from the covers, I thought of last night's dishes. And then my bathroom, overdue for it's semi-weekly cleaning. I decided coffee would be my reward for knocking these two tasks out first thing instead of the prerequisite.

I've made a list of personal goals to accomplish during the summer months, one of which is to paint my apartment (the foyer and the living room). I just have to be careful to do one thing at a time so I don't get overwhelmed and bag the whole list. I do that to myself a lot.

I've also decided that I'm going to try going to the church I attended in Baltimore city from 1995 to 1998; it's time to go back. I was lying on my couch the other night, and I just realized it. simple as that.

My boss announced her impending departure at our team meeting yesterday morning. Incidentally, that afternoon we all went out to lunch to celebrate meeting our print deadline. Things have been fine for me at work for the better part of a month and a half (after a significantly rough patch between me and my soon-to-be-leaving manager), but I am still relieved. She is returning to her hometown because her spouse's job is relocating them there.

You just never know how things are going to work themselves out.

Because I had yet to hear anything from the financial aid office at my school, or from the FAFSA people, I called to check on my application last night. It's a good thing I did. Not only did I need to update my home address, but I needed to indicate that I had filed my taxes, because my app still showed the "will file" option. This was holding up progress, and I didn't even know it.

Supposedly I was informed of this via e-mail, but I'm telling you that I wasn't.

Well, I have a few assignments on my desk, so I need to put my editing cap back on :)

I spend a lot of time thinking about the kind of wife I never want to be. I have my parents' trouble-filled union to thank, in part, for this preoccupation, but I also see and hear a lot of women making a lot of mistakes that alienate the men they love.

It's been said that every man has both a king and a fool inside him, and that the one you talk to is the one who will respond. Most people respond to praise more than to negative criticism, and I'm not suggesting that one should not address areas that need improvement, but the way these things get addressed and with whom [outside the marriage] is where things can go awry.

1. I never want to be the kind of wife who belittles her husband in conversations with other women, family members, coworkers, to his own face, etc.

I have heard women "jokingly" undermine their husbands via discussions of his domestic bumbling or ineptitude in some other area, such as handywork or the ever-emphasized department of "romance," as in he's not romantic enough.

[Sidebar: Ladies, if you are with a man who has never been romantic, then please don't bemoan the fact that he isn't after you are seriously dating or married to him, okay?]

Essentially, a lot of man-bashing goes on under the guise of teasing, and of course I have participated in this socially acceptable brand of belittling in the past. There was a very timely article in "Glamour" magazine last month which posits that male-bashing accomplishes three things:

a) it actually enables less than glowing male behavior
b) it furthers the very helplessness in emotional and relational landscapes that women are trying to better negotiate with the men in their lives, and
c) just makes women who do it more bitter and less attractive to really excellent men

2. I never want to be the kind of wife who nags.

The Bible says that it is better to live on the corner or a roof than with a contentious wife, that a nagging wife is like a constant dripping.

I have heard women, in an effort to make a point, maybe even a legitimate point, berate a man within an inch of his dignity and his sanity. Nagging may produce a short-term result, but at the cost of intimacy.

It's an easy habit to slip into. No one aspires to be a nag; most nags probably don't hold their behavior against the stark light of truth. Nagging kills the spirit.

3. I never want to be the kind of wife who makes herself an obstacle to her husband's pursuit of passions and hobbies that do not include her.

If you've ever caught an episode of MTV's "Newlyweds" with Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey, you know what I'm talking about. It is a pet peeve of mine when women turn their lovers into their sons by intimating that permission is necessary for him to go off and do something with friends. It is a hallmark of insecurity to begrudge your spouse time to himself. I especially hate it when wives insinuate themselves in a man's sacred territory... be that his home office, or his outings with pals, or into the metaphysical sanctum of his solitude.

The German Imagist Rilke posited that the greatest benefit of marriage is that it provides one with a guardian of one's interior life. A spouse should demand that his or her other has room to think, breathe, and be...

Finally, I never want to be the kind of wife who does any of the following:

4. Makes my spouse responsible for my happiness (requiring him to be everything to me)
5. Fails to celebrate his idiosynchrasies and complexities
6. Does not know what he needs from me
7. Fails to call him on something that might threaten his integrity, our marriage, or other principal concerns.

Kamikaze Cicada

One of these benign, but no less annoying, pests is fluttering crazily outside my window. You get the impression he knows he’s got a shelf life of about a week, and is desperate to mate, because if it doesn’t happen now, then he’s screwed, in a manner of speaking.

This is reminding me of something Gordon said last Friday night. “If you see two of them mating, you can pull them apart.” I’m remembering how easily he picked one up, by its paper thin wings, and then gently set him back down again. Taking note of this simple indication of manual dexterity, I realized he would be a very good kisser. I imagine that his mouth would feel, at first, like papery wings and then become firmer and fuller, but still a little tentative. The beginning of a new kind of dialogue would be born between us.

I regret that I didn’t have the guts to pick up one of these uncoordinated insects last Friday night. It reminded me of being on the playground in sixth grade when the boy I like asked me to pick up a worm, and I was too squeamish. I had failed his little test of “how fun are you?” And I felt similarly that I’d passed up a chance to show Gordon the little daredevil I still have inside. Somehow, though, I don’t think it’s too late to feel a cicada’s wing.

Confessions of a Former English Major

There are a few books, canonical, that I have never managed to read or complete reading.
Wuthering Heights. I did not give a rip about Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship and the tumultuous moors, which symbolized their torrid attempts at love. Much more compelling was Jane Eyre’s heady, nuance-driven passion toward Mr. Rochester.

The Iliad and the Odyssey. Or Homer’s Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee of Greek literature, given far too much credence as god-like renderings of a mythological war, and the stupid decisions that ensued after a hothead got the hots for a woman whose face could launch a thousand ships, supposedly. What the Iliad has given birth to is one very useful adage. Don’t look a gifthorse in the mouth. Thank you, Homer, exit stage right.

For years, I beat myself up for not loving the classics; I believed there must be a deficit in me that I should be far more moved by the contemporary than the antiquated. Then, I realized that there is a system in place that is responsible for this complex I carried. It's the same system that dictates to me what beauty is by way of magazine ads and billboards.

Okay, so now I proudly say that I despise the Romantic Period of lit and poetry. Screw Keats, Shelly, and that other guy, too. No, I don’t like Wordsworth and Longfellow—and all that pastoral imagery that makes me want to run for the hills. I can tolerate Tennyson, whose "Lady of Shallott" is a timeless masterpiece, intricately and intimately detailing the isolation of the feminine psyche. Masterfully crafted phrases. Stunningly deft and piercing language. I don’t even care that it rhymes. It’s genius.

And before you think otherwise, let me disavow you of the belief that I am simply despising form for the sake of doing so. Ezra Pound drives me insane—a textbook case of the “Emporer’s New Clothes” alive and well. I challenge anyone to show me a Pound poem that isn’t utter inanity. I shouldn’t be too judgmental. I guess it’s the equivalent of a single dot of paint on a canvas that goes for millions, and has to be roped off in prestigious museum. Ah, yes, I guess I’m missing the point. No pun intended.