Am I Jaded?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silver Lining

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

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

But...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confession:

I'm vacillating on the cat issue.

New Shoes!

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

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

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

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

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

Vintage Baltimore

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sizzling

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

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

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

Christian Community: The Glass Ceiling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now for a real blog entry...

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

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

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

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

Magically Delicious!

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

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

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

Personal Best

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

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

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

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

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

That's everything for now...

Tricky

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

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

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

Hot town, Summer in the city, baby dolls.

Stay cool. Solid.

I'm thinking of getting a cat...

Something like this one...

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

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

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

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

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

Blackout

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Humility is enough of a reason

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

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

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

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

The Charles Village Fair

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It would seem so.

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

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

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

The Plot Thickens (by unthickening)

The truth is far less interesting than fiction in some cases. The first rule of a fiction narrative is that it must be plausible, but the plot has to be contrived enough to be more interesting than say, a simple misunderstanding. The tug of war between imitation and harmony and all that.

In any case, I was sent the announcement. He hoped I did not feel slighted by what was perceived to be an intentional withholding of the information. This is far less interesting than the original scenario. It came down to overly vigilant e-mail servers blocking perceived spam. Things still happen as they are supposed to. If I hadn't felt it ridiculous to not acknowledge the birthday of someone who, for the last several years, has meant so much to me...this may never have come out in the wash. If all that is not enough, he sent his hopes that I can come to the wedding. I'll leave it to you, gentle reader, to decide whether you think I'll be attending or not.

A Day at the Races

My sister is off to Pimlico with college chums for the day. I think it sounds beautifully grand and antiquated. I am home and preparing to do some light cleaning.

I woke up at about quarter to 9 this morning, ate some toasted Os, then headed to the Track on the University's Lacrosse field for a 2-mile power walk. When I returned to the apartment, Miss Caryl was just rising and preparing for a shower.

I decided to write to G and acknowledge both his birthday (yesterday)and his engagement. He wrote me back rather quickly and said he hoped that I might meet his intended soon. A remarkable degree of normalcy on his part given that he, himself, did not tell me about their engagement. It dawned on me before that perhaps not being included among those to whom he sent the e-mail was an oversight, but I eliminated it as a possibility. His reply today, however, has forced me to revisit this as a plausible explanation. I wrote him back and commented directly on the situation. I'll be interested to read his reply.

A delightful lunch of salmon with Light Lemonnaise, asparagus, portabella & zucchini sauteed with green tea to drink was a perfect mid-day meal. The banana pumpkin bread I made last night with pumpkin butter spread was an acceptable treat with which to finish off.

Sarah and I spent some time together at her place yesterday afternoon, then went to dinner in the suburbs before coming back to my apartment. We attempted to watch "Ocean's 12," but neither she, Caryl, nor myself were very invested in the plot. So we just told anecdotes... I baked the afore-mentioned bread while wearing a lovely thin cotton night gown I'd purchased from Hecht's earlier that afternoon.

The play, as the link says, contains nudity. Somehow I just glossed right over that. You can imagine my surprise then, when the audience was made privy to the whole kit & caboodle. Act II was better executed than Act I. All the female character's lines in the first half seemed shrill and overdone. I understand that the character is squirrely and gun shy about intimacy, but the actress kept striking that note just a bit too sharp for my taste.

Because it was a matinee, I supposed I also should have expected there to be an 80+ contingent present. Seriously, it was basically a lot of senior citizens and Caryl and myself in the audience. It was unnerving to watch full-frontal (brief, thankfully) and listen to coarse terms for physical anatomy with people my grandparents' age.

All in all, I think it was infinitely more interesting than just bumming around aimlessly, or lounging around the apartment, but neither of us thought it was winning theatre. After spending a small fortune on delectable tapas, we caught a cab back home and listened to Miles Davis' 'Round Midnight.

Naturally, as the evening wore on, my ever-tired sister took a nap, while I went for a 2-mile walk, then came home to watch "The Aviator" and polish my nails. She eventually woke up after a disconcerting dream. We talked till almost 1 a.m., and then woke up in time for the 8 a.m. service this morning.

After breakfast at the One World we came back home. She promptly fell asleep again.
I think I see a pattern.

Pretty Accurate

Frankie & Johnny

Caryl and I are taking in a matinee of the above-linked show today. Before we set out though, there is the now seemingly overly ambitious goal of laundry and making ourselves gourmet omelettes.

I wasn't expecting to get paid until Tuesday, but a glance at my online banking profile revealed the usual deposit increment that means a paycheck has been put into my account. Now maybe I can take myself out on Memorial Day. Everyone I know is busy, including my sister who is meeting up with friends on Monday.

Everyone is moving on, going on to the next phase of their lives. I feel that life is passing me by. As much as I'm trying to do something about that (working on myself), I still worry that 20 years are going to pass and that I'm still going to be alone, mourning losses, getting cabs to matinee movies.

Oh, What A Proud Day!

Baltimore, I adore you.

Open Letter

We both know.

Tomato Sandwich and Cream of Broccoli Soup

Sarah has recently turned me on to this simple, delicious meal. Tomato sandwiches on wheat with just a bit of mayo, and a sprinkle of salt (if desired). I had these grand plans to make an involved dinner last night, but frankly I was in the tenterhooks of emotional malaise, so that plan did not execute. Then I remembered my greenhouse beauties--firm and crisp, in the fridge. So I dragged myself off the couch and down to the corner deli to get some bread while Caryl slept the sleep of the dead. Once back in the apartment, I ate the simple and very satisfying meal of a tomato sandwich with cream of broccoli soup. I am still surprised at how little it takes to fill me up now.

Eventually, I did wake her. At about 8:40. I was trying not to be bossy, but I thought she would regret waking up on her own at 10,not having had any dinner, and completely unable to sleep the rest of the night. As it was, I let her sleep too long. She would have preferred being awakened sooner. So now I know.

My favourite sunglasses broke.... I don't even know how this happened, I just know that for the first time this week the sun has decided to make more than a 3-second cameo appearance...so I went into my glasses case and withdrew two separate parts of what used to be a single sunglasses unit. My sister tried to repair them, but had no success before Michael called to say he was waiting outside. We'll try again later, but I fear the worst.

So, I've been thinking... Pants Suits...once I get all slimmed down I want pants suits in several colours...and high heels to match each of them. I want to be one of those little women (only 5'0)dynamos, a cyclone personified or something.

Needed something other than the Kashi Go Lean cereal this morning, so I'm rocking the banana nut crunch. Speaking of bananas, I had a blackberry banana smoothie after work yesterday, made only slightly less healthy by a splash of Parrot Bay Rum, cause well... I earned it.

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the Love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39

This scripture is the most crucial arrow in the quiver of anyone who is trying to negotiate despair, or who simply needs to know that at the end of all of everything, God's love remains the one constant.

Your Dominant Thinking Style:

Modifying Super logical and rational, you consider every fact available to you. You don't make rash decisions and are rarely moved by emotion. You prefer what's known and proven - to the new and untested. You tend to ground those around you and add stability.

Your Secondary Thinking Style:

Visioning You are very insightful and tend to make decisions based on your insights. You focus on how things should be - even if you haven't worked out the details. An idealist, thinking of the future helps you guide your path. You tend to give others long-term direction and momentum.

What's Your Thinking Style?

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to obedience and warmth.

In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you.

You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring.

You would be forced to break up with someone who was insecure and in constant need of reassurance.

Your ideal relationship is traditional. Without saying anything, both of you communicate with your hearts.

Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.

You think of marriage as something precious. You'll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred.

In this moment, you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You're feeling self centered.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

Guard your heart

One of the more insidious of all the Post Evangelical Christian sub-culture phrases is “guard your heart.” This phrase, often said to me by other women when I revealed the onset of a new crush, dashed my hopes like nothing else. I always heard it as:

“You have a snowball’s chance in hell of that boy liking you back,”

Or…

“Don’t let yourself entertain anything frivolous that is not directly related to doing the will of God through ministry.”

Or…

“You don’t want what happened last time to happen again, do you?”

It was, I thought, a remarkable lack of generosity masking itself as “godly wisdom,” and hinted at the modern day church’s inability to see God as anything but a deity who only ever acted in a prescriptive, prosaic manner. Yawn.

In my early 20s there was nothing more thrilling or more devastating (and that was part of the thrill then) than a new crush. So much potential. Someone to think about during the unpleasant or mundane aspects of day-to-day life.

Having been sobered by the indulgence of a slew of ill-fated (often long-standing) crushes by this time, the last of which has ended just 7 months shy of my 32nd birthday, I would say that it’s time to revisit the old “guard your heart” mantra.

The spirit of this message is not, I realize now, “don’t have hope,” but “don’t get ahead of yourself.” “Make sure this investment is sound before you put everything on the table.” I knew what it was supposed to mean a long time ago, but still resisted the sentiment on principle. I believed that it was woefully unimaginative and restricted the extravagance of a loving God. I conveniently forgot that God, in all of his lush and luxurious gifts, never once flouts His own will or the integrity of his own character or Word (which may often frustrate my concept of logic, not because He is illogical, but more because He is in no way bound to my idea of what “makes sense” and what does not.).

In thinking of Frost’s poem about the diverging roads in a wood, I am forced to ask myself, would taking the other road, for once, make all the difference? Next time I will do the unthinkable. I will guard my heart.

Equilibrium

For the last several weeks, I would say that the status quo was that my equilibrium was in tact. Feeling very much in control of my self--living on my own terms, seeing progress in the crucial category of physical fitness, knowing that I have detoxed from the vices of caffeine and unrequited love (though not completely from the latter, perhaps), I have lately felt open to the idea of being open to more in the way of a relationship...not immediately, but at some point, which is a very different place than I was even three weeks ago.

Just yesterday morning my weigh-in revealed a cumulative 37-pound loss. Needless to say, I felt that I was floating on a cloud. My power walk yesterday evening was informed by renewed vim and vigor. My sister had arrived, unpacked, happily settling in. Things were brimming with possibility and hope.

Then this morning the news that I have been expecting came. I have been waiting, on a conscious level, for the disclosure that he is engaged. I did not hear this in a direct way. I was left off the missive that informed everyone. But two of my friends were included. My hard-won sense of balance was compromised again, phrases from that forwarded e-mail running on a mental ticker tape through my mind all day while I tried to focus on the tasks at hand.

There is something about the manifestation of what you dread that changes the shape of a day, an hour, a minute, a second. When a word (a seed) becomes rhema (fulfilled)the world shifts.

I know that I will get my balance back. And in truth, I did not fall, though I stumbled. Winston Churchill wisely counseled "If you're going through hell, keep going." This is not the end for me. I just have to keep going through until I come out the other side.

Imminent Events

Engagements and marriages abound. One in particular.

The bag ripped mid-lift. Because Sarah and I did major grocery shopping yesterday morning and afternoon, we thought it best to bring my stuff to my apartment even though I was spending the night at her place.

In truth, I should I have known I could not carry those four bags at once, but I was determined to do it in one trip. Just as I heard the tear, I also heard a man's voice asking me if I needed help. I looked up, smiled and said I did, and had him lift two of those bags into the lobby of my building.

I am so accustomed to figuring out how to manage unwieldy (and often heavy) packages, arrange for the moving/delivery of heavy things, and negotiate the running of my own household in all its various facets, that the simple offer of help, and my ability to accept it was staggering to me. Under normal circumstances, I might have said no, figuring it was not this man's job to stop what he was doing to help me with my groceries. I might have considered that it was my role to get myself out of that minor jam...

One of the obvious benefits of coupledom would be to have help, as a matter of course, where such matters are concerned. It makes me think of Ecclesiastes 4:9-11:

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:
If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls
and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
But how can one keep warm alone?"

In any case, I am now back in my apartment (have been since about 11:30 a.m.) and have completed Phase II of the cleaning in anticipation of my sister's arrival. I'm so wiped out I could take a nap, and I almost never nap anymore...

Cleaning Phase I Completed

After eating the small amount of leftover Afghan food (from Wednesday's outing) supplemented by roasted brussel sprouts and carrots, I went out for about a two-mile walk (with free weights). It felt so primitive compared to my gym workouts. But hey, I shouldn't knock it. I lost the first twenty pounds just doing that two or three times a week.

Cleaning is wonderfully invigorating. I finished sweeping, mopping, and wiping the kitchen by about 9:00, and then finally got the gumption to move my cd shelf from the bedroom into the hallway, so that I could rearrange the bed and open up the room some more. My sister is bringing her keyboard (w/stand), so creating a place for it was crucial.

Tomorrow, when I return from Sarah's, I'll do more dusting and sweeping. I'll also clean the bathroom. But today, I go wholesale club shopping. With two people in the house buying some things in bulk suddenly sounds like a good idea.

At this point, I'm just waiting for Sarah to arrive. We'll begin with breakfast at the One World (I am in love with their 7-grain pancakes!), then we'll push off onto our shopping adventure.

Last Night's poetry group was spirited. Our host served a tangy whole wheat penne pasta salad and also provided chocolate covered strawberries. I picked up some dessert from Whole Foods (the piece de reistance of which was a raspberry chocolate cake with butter cream frosting) to take to the fete.

I had been struggling all day to come up with a poetic offering for the evening. I ended up crafting a piece about the dinner with C and Desperately the night before, prosaically titled "The Dinner Engagement."

Blast it! It's a gloomy glum day here in Charm City. No matter. I have tons of housecleaning to do this evening. There is dusting and polishing the furniture, sweeping the floors, plumping sofa cushions, cleaning the counters, mopping the kitchen floor, and scrubbing the bathroom.

Caryl is coming on Sunday and Saturday I will spend with Sarah,so it's all about tonight (with finishing touches done on Sunday morning before Caryl's arrival). I have three Netflix DVDs to get through as well. I think I'll be watching one of them while I clean. Don't ask me how, but I've learned to watch films while not being in the same room with the tv.

Haven't slept particularly well any night this week, and it's starting to show...

Everybody Plays The Fool Sometimes (or, I didn't Mean To Turn You On)

As I was getting ready for dinner at the Helmand last night, I checked my e-mail to find that my prof had written asking if I'd like to reclaim custody of my bread knife...that evening. He was headed back out of town on Friday morning and last night was the best time for him. I shot him a reply letting him know that I had dinner plans, but that I'd pick up my knife on the way home. We agreed that I would call him to determine a place to meet.

Once C, my classmate and fellow poet, picked me up we headed to the Mt. Vernon neighborhood where I used to live. We were rerouted by detours due to Baltimore's Annual flower show. We eventually found parking, and didn't arrive at the restaurant too late, all things considered.

Desperately was already there waiting. He seemed subdued, initially, which gave him a fairly natural air. I almost felt that I had nothing to worry about, but I set to work on all the verbal and non-verbal cues I could think of to establish my lack of interest, anyway.

As I told C on our drive downtown, I never had any intention of making more plans with him, so I was willing to be as obnoxious, within socially acceptable parameters, as need be.

The evening went along fairly well with the three of us sharing anecdotes (well he mostly talked about how overworked he is), C played along delightfully and subtly.

At some point, Desperately began to come to pep up a bit and called me "darling," something he's done once before prior to our initial hangout. I thought he was just being cheeky at the time, and I didn't yet know him as "Desperately" then, so I thought it was kind of funny. This time, however:

Me: "What did you just call me?"
Desperately: "Darling...is that all right?"
Me: "Is that what you call all your women friends?"
Desperately: "I call my women friends any number of things."
Me: Non-committal noise of disapproval.

(he may have won that round)

When he excused himself at one point, C said to me, "I think he's interpreting your snarkiness and detachment as feistyness and positive attention. Think about it, how many women ever pay any attention to him, and while it's clear to me what you're doing, I think it's more attention than he ever gets..."

"Great," I said.

It would seem that he is incredibly obtuse. As C pointed out, she would have known, if she was him, as soon as I told him that if the 18th did not work for him in terms of hanging out, that I would just send him a check for the money I owed him...

Because D doesn't care for cheese (this has come up twice now), I snarkily referred to him as "the boy who doesn't like cheese," which I simply can't understand. It has nothing to do with lactose intolerance. He just can't see that it adds anything. Fair enough, I guess, but I still can't relate.

So after an evening of me talking about how adorable other men are, calling him "the boy who doesn't like cheese," and calling him on calling me "darling," he said "well this has been fun. When can we do it again?"

C attempted to deflect and said she'd have to check her schedule. I said I was busy all summer. In one final attempt at something, D says to me "well, I do have your card." I made another non-commital noise.

Before we departed, I reiterated that he should have a good summer, he said, "I'll miss you..." I made another disgust noise. Quell Nightmare.

I guess I'm in the right profession...

My favourite Baltimore Sun Columnist,Gregory Kane, e-mailed me today. As is my custom, I read his column every week,and yesterday when I accessed it online, I noticed a date error. In a somewhat uncharacteristic move, I elected to point out the error via the Sun's commenting field.

Then, I forgot all about it.

This afternoon, the man himself wrote to me to say that I caught an error that he, a line editor, a copyeditor, and a slot editor had all missed. Then he asked, partially in jest, if I was looking for work as an editor. In his second message, he assured me that if he ever heard of an opening he would mention my name, because afterall, what could anyone say, that I wasn't qualified?

Wild Mushroom Quesadilla

I realized, too late, that I didn't really have any vegetables yesterday. I had a bit of leftover spinach at lunch, but it was hardly a full serving. Dinner last night was scallops and whole wheat spaghetti (w/tomato sauce), and I could have easily added a vegetable accompaniment, but forgot to... I know this isn't the end of the world, but given that I just ate a quesadilla for lunch, I think I need to maybe have a salad or something, too, because two days without anything green is not ideal.

Nothing much is new. Oh, I made reservations at the Helmand for Wednesday. I have a scheduled outing with my classmate and that kid, Desperately Desperateson, at 6 p.m.

Comme Une Image (Look At Me)

My reading companion had to bow out due to a sore throat. I decided that I didn't want to go to the reading alone, and since I have no friends close by whom I can comfortably call up for a spontaneous outing, I decided not to go...

but then I got a brilliant idea. It had been a while since I'd gone to the movies alone, and I wondered what foreign/art house pieces might be available at the Rotunda Cinemathique, or The Charles.

After months of spending time as a link under my "Current Film of Choice" section, I finally saw "Look at Me." The Charles came through with this film, as I knew it would at some point. It was 12:49 when I saw the movie listed as a currently showing film on their site, with a 2:00 p.m. start time. Not long from my workout, I knew I would need to shower again, but given the relative close distance of my apartment to the theatre, I also knew I'd have time to clean up, get money from an atm, hail a cab, and get there with at least 20 minutes to spare.

Definitely worth the 6 dollars. I tend toward the French aesthetic in cinema. I enjoy the understated humour, the pathos, the themes of emotionally disenfranchised outsiders, love where you least expect it, and the desire to be counted...

The theme of this specific film resonated quite deeply. The principal character is an overweight girl who wants her father to acknowledge her, to see her, for once. But each of the supporting characters is also unseen in some profound way. The girl's myopia never really allows her to recognize that, fully, but there is movement in the character. In the end, it was a very satisfying experience.

Sidebar anecdote: I've noticed that The Charles draws a lot of older people, and by older I mean elderly patrons... I think it's wonderful that Baltimore has an 80+ indie film contingent. But... there was a senior couple in the movie today that I found just a tad annoying. Apparently the husband could't read the subtitles very well, or follow the plot visually, because the wife kept loudly 'whispering' "She's upset because she's fat."

12 Days!

Starting Thursday, May 19th through Monday, May 30th, the gym will be closed due to commencement and scheduled maintenance. This is reasonable given that it's a university facility, but what on earth am I going to do?! I guess I'll have to start doing my resistance bands at home, coupled with power walking the track again, but I'll miss out on the lowerbody lifting that I just can't do at home. Thankfully, I have my 3 pound weights, so I don't have to completely miss out on arm work. I'm up to 30 crunches a day now, too. Every little bit will help...

Life is so funny. Just when one obstruction is cleared, another one slides in to take its place. I have been waiting for the end of the semester with baited breath so that I could start to go to the gym 5 times a week, consistently. So what happens? The week arrives when I can finally do that, and the gym is scheduled to shut down not even half-way through that week.

Here is the upside to the timing of this:

My sister is coming on the 20th or 21st, so I will not be tempted to forego giving the apartment a thorough cleaning before her arrival in favour of workout sessions. And I can burn some calories sweeping, scrubbing, wiping, etc.

It will also give us an opportunity to bond and settle into our snug living arrangement, too. Everything happens for a reason. I'm trying to embrace what transpires instead of fighting against it.

For example, at the beginning of April the elevator in my building was closed off for all use because it is being replaced (and this is necessary, believe me). It is still out of service, and the last I heard, would be until the end of May. Now this has been an inconvenience on many levels, but the timing perfectly coincided with my fitness efforts. So, essentially, I've gotten some free, enforced cardio! I may keep taking the stairs even after the new unit is up and running. We'll see...

Church this morning was comforting. The congregation is going through a series on the Book of Ruth, entitled "Radical Love Stories." At this point in my life, I want to focus on God's sovereign husbandry of me, instead of looking for a stop-gap male to fantasize about. I see that I am still so susceptible to that temptation...that being to manufacture emotions toward someone to feed my addiction to being rejected.

I watched "What the Bleep Do We Know?" yesterday, and while I don't buy everything about the proffered theories, I see the wonder and majesty of God in the study of Quantum Physics. I was amazed, again, by the idea that our cells are preprogrammed toward given "mindsets," if you will. Every time a thought pattern is interrupted, long-standing relationships between cellular structures and synapses are broken. A Thought is an imprint that, over time, changes the shape of the body.

Is it any wonder that all battles are lost and won in the mind, and the result can be seen physically manifested in the body?

The Apartment at Night

My sister the chanteuse

The cat who won my heart... In memoriam to Silver

Trinity of Tealights

Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining...

What a treat! A springtime thunderstorm. I love storms...I find them beautiful, lovely, the perfect accompaniment to jazz, self-introspection, and nice steaming cup of coffee or tea.

I started the process of making room for C today. In order to give her her own closet, I cleared out the one in the hall, took some things downstairs to my storage unit, put others in my closet, or in the kitchen, if appropriate. Tomorrow, at some point after the gym but before the reading in Hampden I'm attending with one of the women in my poetry group, I'll move the bookshelf of cds into the hallway.

Haven't been to FCF (Faith Christian Fellowship) in months. Because Sarah's moving away is imminent (she and Michael are headed down to NC this weekend for his audition. Praying people, pray!), I've been spending a lot of Sundays with her (the most convenient day for us to hang out), and aside from that, on the Sundays that I am at home, I was not very motivated to go. Very suddenly, I just lost my steam. In any case, I've decided that I am going to the 8 a.m. service tomorrow. I am really looking forward to having the corporate worship experience.

Lately, I've taken to eating mangos a bit differently (for me, anyway). Just taking off the peel with my thumb and forefinger, and holding the whole fleshy mess with both hands, biting around the core. Such a passionate fruit should be eaten with gusto. And I'm too impatient for slicing right now.

The Wonderful Girl You scored 61 looks, 72 personality, 83 politics, and 25 sex drive!

You're extremely nice, beautiful, and know your politics. Your sex drive is a little low, but that's not as important as love is it? You will make someone a great wife or girlfriend someday, if you haven't already. You're the kind of girl that everyone secretly wants. Most people claim that they want your opposite, the sex machine, but in all honesty we want the nice one. With a little sex drive you would be perfect, but maybe you haven't even had sex yet, and for that I commend you.

Link: The What Kind of Girl are You Test written by ramonaaronperez on OkCupid Free Online Dating

Michael and I ordered chinese food for lunch yesterday. I went with shrimp and broccoli (no rice)...a fairly conservative choice (I ate as little as possible of the oily sauce) for takeout. Tonight, after the gym, I made a very health-friendly version of the same. I used canola cooking spray to saute the shrimp (plenty of Old Bay, of course). I added a good dose of Shitake Mushroom Sauce, too. I boiled the broccoli for only a minute or so, then removed the water. It was that bright green colour that lets you know the vitamin content is still intact (the worst thing you can do to a green vegetable is cook it within an inch of its life). Then, I added it into the pan with the shrimp. So light. So delicious. Almost no fat and little prep time.

This evening's workout consisted of the elliptical, the stairmaster, the rowing machine, and some lifting. Not too bad after all was said and done. I came home and did crunches; I try for at least 15 a night. I know that's by no means a ridiculous number, but I figure consistency is more important for me than quantity at this point.

My report card came today. Of course grades are not in yet, so I got that stupid "M" beside the class name, but I did get the benefit of seeing a lovely A beside the column for Poetry and Poetics, the class I hated at first.

Finished

I couldn't find my keys this morning. I realized this just after Michael called me to tell me he'd be outside my building to pick me up for work in just a couple of minutes. Panic ensued. I eventually found them under my pillow. It's a wonder I didn't dream about doors that I couldn't open.

Fortunately, for me, my boss was out sick today. This was a good turn only because I really needed to spend some time finalizing my final paper for the Contemporary American Writers class that wrapped up tonight, and I couldn't very well do that with any ease with her happening by my desk and random intervals.

Per the instrucotr we all brought "celebratory eats" for the fete. There was quite a nice spread, including 3 different kinds of beer, chips, bread, dips, cookies. I had more alcohol than anything else during the first half of class and spent that hour in a relative shroud of unaffected peace of mind. The discussion was interesting from this vantage point. Everyone seemed so impassioned. I followed the conversation, but didn't proffer any thoughts of my own.

I realized that I hadn't eaten since lunch time, which is why I felt that half a beer and 3/4 of a glass of wine. During the break, I got some of the food, but restrained myself to very limited portions.

Blast it all, but I ended up leaving my breadknife and tea towel behind! I sure hope someone picked them up and will return both to me. I sent out an e-mail once I got home. If these items are irretrievably lost, then I invoke the spirit of Elizabeth Bishop's "One Art," and say "the art of losing isn't hard to master/ so many things seem filled with the intent/ to be lost that their loss is no disaster."

The long day of the spring semester is over. Now I just wait for the grade report, then I relax with Caryl all summer.

Fitness-related Pet Peeves

It is not only common courtesy, but a rule at public gymnasiums that one wipe off, using a solution (provided by the gym), any equipment that one has used once one is finished with that machine. Essentially, you are not permitted to leave your sweat on any equipment.

I am noticing a disturbing trend among some of the clientele that frequent my fitness facility. I have seen a few offenders "wipe" off machines with their own towels (already soaked with their sweat!), or half-heartedly with their own hands (what?!), or not at all... they just walk away, sociopathic and whatnot... either not thinking of the next person who may come in after them, assuming the machine has been cleaned...or not caring. either way.

Another bothersome trend is the sizing attributed to workout gear. Wanting to trade in my old (now baggy)sweats for some more streamlined workout pants, I went shopping this past Saturday. I still weigh enough to merit an extra large in most things, so I automatically went for the XL bottoms. When I tried them on, I fit them, but in no way comfortably. As a matter of fact that "XL" felt more like a large to me. Not only were they too small, but weren't even cut right for my body. The pervasive theme seems to be that you can't wear true work out clothes unless you are already relatively thin, and have a body of a specific shape.

I know there are specialty stores/catalogues where larger people can buy comfortable (and more expensive) exercise clothing, but I really do believe there should be a greater variety of sizes available in stores and sports shops. Maybe I'm not looking hard enough?

I'm determined to go this year...

Roasted Zucchini & Baby Carrots tossed w/Honey and Thyme in Roasted Red Pepper and Tomato Soup...

Was what I had for dinner last night. I loved the earthy thyme softened by the honey coated with the smoky flavour of the commingled tomato, garlic, and pepper. It was simply delicious, and was the perfect segue between my workout and working on my final paper for class. Before going to the gym, I ate half of a Kashi Go Lean protein bar, so I didn't really miss the meat/soy component of dinner at all.

I lit my mango and tahitian vanilla scented candles, then did crunches on the yoga mat while watching sitcoms in syndication.

When I sat down to my computer to compose my final essay, I had less than a page of it already done. Before I went to bed last night, I was well onto the 4th page of what need only be a 6-page affair. I'll finish it up tonight after the gym.

Currently, I'm on my first cup of green tea. The cream coloured gerber daisies I bought yesterday are sunning themselves. They look so sleek and dainty standing in the makeshift Boylan Bottle Works vase I made for them.

In just under two weeks my sister will move in with me for the summer. She got a job here at my company! I guess I should start intentionally enjoying living alone for the next week and a half. For the next three months, that independent living I enjoy so much will be on hiatus.

M is for the Many things she gave me...

I left work on Friday evening and from there went directly to the train station to get the 5:25 to DC. I went to spend the entire weekend with my mother, and truthfully, I was more looking forward to it than not. I felt hopeful that we could get through the weekend with little manipulation or childishness on either side. We've been talking on the phone a lot lately and bonding over our mutual fitness efforts. Things have been nice. Good even.

I was about 15 minutes later than I told her I'd be. Once I got to Union Station, I missed the first possible subway train going in the direction of her house, and during peak hours, especially if you have to transfer at any point, missing one train can easily add about 10 to 15 minutes to your ETA.

As was the case back in the old days when I rode the commuter train from Baltimore to DC and back again every day, I was lulled to sleep within minutes. A very literary sleep in which the sentence "the body has a memory," kept repeating, like a mantra, in my head. Interspersed between this refrain were lines from Elizabeth Bishop's poem "One Art" in which she discusses grief with detached irony and encourages people to embrace loss...that it's no disaster...and I kept thinking of the line "practice losing farther, losing faster..." and then from nowhere "the body has a memory," would crop up like the beat you count by in a song.

My sleep was train-feverish. I missed Gordon, I realized. All this had to do with being back in the context in which I spent much time thinking about him. Like coffee, the train is a symbol of our association, and specifically of my longing. I dreamt in phrases. "I've lost him so entirely," I thought at one point.

This train of thought was palpable and mutual. I discovered, hours later, before I went to bed on Friday night, that he'd sent me an e-mail. I've yet to reply. At first I was certain that I would, now I'm not so sure.

Mom and I were both hungry, so after hugs we headed to The Golden Corral. Let me just say right here and now that my mother's idea of heaven is the buffet-style restaurant. I have always preferred sitting down and being served one plate of specifically chosen food to the "pigs at the trough" model of eating, so how much more now that I am being health conscious?

I didn't do too badly, but it's difficult to mind one's Ps and Qs at a place where the vegetables are boiled within an inch of their lives, and as a result are tasteless, and where everything else is fat laden.

Friday night and Saturday morning were pleasantly uneventful and included another meal out, this time at a steakhouse (my suggestion). I had a very crisp wedge salad, which is by no means conservative (mom and I shared it); a steamed vegetable medley which was delicious. It tasted as though the verdant zucchini, the lemon yellow squash, and the bright orange carrots had been tossed in just a bit of honey; sirloin tips (of which I ate very few because the veggies were filling); and smashed potatoes, all of which I gave to my mother, save for one forkful that I ate just to taste the magic.

Then came the unfortunate event. I attended a bookclub meeting with my mom that in retrospect I should not have gone to. I knew the topic was going revolve around the life of Christ, and I know that I have a lot of trouble being neutral about it. I don't think Jesus is up for debate. People can and do feel their own way about him, but I think what he said about himself trumps all of that as objective fact. Anyway, Let's just say that while my point may have been valid, I didn't handle the way I discussed my point super-well. I ended up leaving in a huff and waiting outside for my mom and Jim to finish up with the group so we could go grocery shopping.

I picked up some puffed millet and found fat-free soy-milk (so that's breakfast this morning)in addition to tuna, a couple of soups, honey, whole wheat bread...things like that.

Running around with my mom and her compadre, I was completely out of control of the schedule. Fortunately, I was full enough from lunch that I didn't feel that I was about to die of hunger (and I picked up a Naked Food-Juice from whole foods for a snack) or anything, but I didn't eat any dinner until 10:30 Saturday night! Technically too late to be taking in new food, but just as bad to skip a meal, too, so I cut up one of the zucchini I'd purchased, sauteed it in canola cooking spray, then later added my leftover sirloin tips. Delicious, but pretty heavy, especially for that time of night.

See, after the disastrous book club and the shopping, my mother had to "see a woman about some jewelry." Naturally, because my mother is an extremely social creature, every errand turns into a visit. I was unnerved the entire time we were at this woman's house, because her parakeet flies around freely, and frankly, though I know many people allow their birds to do this, I cannot relax with a bird flying above my head in an enclosed space!

Sunday morning. Didn't know how I would feel about my mom's church which seems a little hoakey to me, but I actually enjoyed myself, and found their Christianity/Meditation fusion to be interesting. Jim's mother attended the service with us...then off to another buffet. This one was decidedly upscale and held in the dining area of a fairly nice hotel. But the pressure to eat more than one plate of food is intense, otherwise, you are totally missing out on the value of the buffet concept!

I got salmon and asparagus tips (in a decadent cream sauce) along with chessie potatoes. Later, I got a spring medley of veggies, mushroom ravioli, and something else, which I forget. For dessert, 3/4 of a slice of spice cake, and cup of coffee with cream, but no sugar. I calculated that meal at roughly 800 calories. Fortuitous, since it was lunch, and if one is going to "celebrate," it should be earlier on in the day. For breakfast I'd had cereal with soy milk (all my mom uses now)so, I still had a good amount of calorie inventory left over for dinner.

The day was just beginning. Once in St. Mary's county, we picked up my sister then drove to one of my mother's favourite haunts in Calvert county for dinner. This sad, decrepit little tikki lounge where the food is only fair, but that sits on the water. I did broiled seafood and had a sub par pina colada. I've decided that I loathe eating out! I am so sick of having to eat something I'm either not interested in, where no nuturional information is available, or something that just isn't healthy.

I got home at about midnight, because of course, we had to unload some of my sister's stuff back to my mom's house before I could go home. It was just a long, long day. The weekend was more pleasant than not, but I lost two days of having reasonable control over my eating plan and schedule, two days of working on my final paper for class, and two days of working out.

It was hard not to feel that it was worth it when my mother cried when I told her what I got for her...It hasn't yet arrived, but it's what she wanted.

Haughty Intellectual You are 71% Rational, 42% Extroverted, 42% Brutal, and 71% Arrogant.

You are the Haughty Intellectual. You are a very rational person, emphasizing logic over emotion, and you are also rather arrogant and self-aggrandizing. You probably think of yourself as an intellectual, and you would like everyone to know it. Not only that, but you also tend to look down on others, thinking yourself better than them. You could possibly have an unhealthy obsession with yourself as well, thus causing everyone to hate you for being such an elitist twat. On top of all that, you are also introverted and gentle. This means that you are just a quiet thinker who wants fame and recognition, in all likelihood. Rather lacking in emotion, introspective, gentle, and arrogant, you are most certainly a Haughty Intellectual! And, most likely, you will never achieve the recognition or fame you so desire! Sweet! To put it less negatively: 1. You are more RATIONAL than intuitive. 2. You are more INTROVERTED than extroverted. 3. You are more GENTLE than brutal. 4. You are more ARROGANT than humble. Compatibility: Your exact opposite is the Schoolyard Bully. (Bullies like to beat up nerds, after all.) Other personalities you would probably get along with are the Braggart, the Hand-Raiser, and the Robot. * * If you scored near fifty percent for a certain trait (42%-58%), you could very well go either way. For example, someone with 42% Extroversion is slightly leaning towards being an introvert, but is close enough to being an extrovert to be classified that way as well. Below is a list of the other personality types so that you can determine which other possible categories you may fill if you scored near fifty percent for certain traits. The other personality types: The Emo Kid: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Humble. The Starving Artist: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant. The Bitch-Slap: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Humble. The Brute: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant. The Hippie: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble. The Televangelist: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant. The Schoolyard Bully: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble. The Class Clown: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant. The Robot: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Humble. The Haughty Intellectual: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant. The Spiteful Loner: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Humble. The Sociopath: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant. The Hand-Raiser: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble. The Braggart: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant. The Capitalist Pig: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble. The Smartass: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 50% on Rationality You scored higher than 50% on Extroversion You scored higher than 40% on Brutality You scored higher than 78% on Arrogance

Link: The Personality Defect Test written by saint_gasoline on OkCupid Free Online Dating

I'm It!

From Muddyart's most recent post:

If you're tagged, you need to choose 5 (or more if you like) occupations from the list below and then finish the sentence for each that you've chosen.

You then tag three more people who must do the same. You can add more occupations to the list when you pass it on but you must choose your 5 from the list provided by the person who tagged you. You're also asked to trackback to the blogger who tagged you if you know how.

If I could be a scientist...
If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician...
If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter...
If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary...
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect...
If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist...
If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete...
If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an innkeeper...
If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer...
If I could be a llama-rider...
If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be a service member...
If I could be a photographer...
If I could be a philanthropist...
If I could be a rap artist...
If I could be a child actor...
If I could be a secret agent...
If I could be a comedian/comedienne...
If I could be a priest...
If I could be a radio announcer...
If I could be a phlebotomist...
If I could be Paris Hilton's stylist...
If I could be the CEO of Microsoft..
If I could be a movie producer.
If I could be a laser hair removal specialist...
If I could be a dog groomer...
If I could be a bicycle repairman...
If I could be a member of the Royal Family...

here are my additions to the list:

If I could be an editor....
If I could win the Nobel Peace Prize....
If I could invent a new no-cal drink....
If I could be a member of the President's cabinet...

If I could be a writer I would write novels about the drama and intellectually-hellacious pas de deux of relationships. I would also write pulitzer prize-winning volumes of free-verse poetry.

If I could be Paris Hilton's stylist, I would help her get some...style, that is.

If I could be a professor, I would teach comparitive literature, and devote an entire class to Anna Karenina.

If I had been a child actor, I would have been one of the few to not star in a porn flick or do drugs.

If I could be a rap artist, my debut album would be called "All you Sucker MCs better just back up off me."

P.S. I tagged Catchka, Michael, and Sarah.

Michelangelo's David

Working from the disegno paradigm, the artist considered that the essence of his David was already present in the block of marble and that he was simply cutting away whatever was not David.

As I'm watching my own body change, I find this notion even more intriguing and romantic than I did before. I am simply chiseling what is not myself to become more fully formed as myself. The Greeks definitely gloried in the physical form and praised it, when athletic and in top condition, as an indication of a sound mind.
The Latin idea for this is men san in corpo sano.

Exercising has given me a mental clarity I wasn't expecting. My clear mind enables me to be commited to my exercise routine. Now that I have put food in its proper place and have an appropriate perspective on it, my body is better able to do the things I want it to do.

Now we begin to form the abdomen...one stroke at a time...

My Stock Is Plummeting...

If RetroStats is anything to go by. It must be all the prosaic entries I've been posting lately.

Well, here's a little intrigue for the faithful few that remain.

The kid I "hung out" with a couple of weeks ago both annoyed and repulsed me during the course of my last Tuesday night class of the semester. Last week he off-handedly suggested that the next time we try out The Helmand (Afghan restaurant of excellent repute here in the city), as you may recall. This was perfectly fine and in keeping with our agreement that the next meal would be on me. No boundaries overstepped. No presumption of anything. He wasn't weird.

Leading up to class all day on Tuesday, though, I felt uneasy. I sensed that there would be uncomfortable tension with him. So, I deliberately sat one seat down from where I usually do. True to my expectations, he adjusted himself so he was sitting next to me. He led with "You owe me a meal; don't think I've forgotten about that." I understood this to be his attempt at another off-handed reminder that he and I are supposed to go out again. But his neediness was so bald and obvious in that moment, and as a result of being embarrassed for him because of that, I became detached and formal. I assured him that I had not forgotten, adding "I get paid at the middle of the month, and at the end, so again, it will have to be at one of those times."

As we were going over poems, he found himself without copies of two of them, which meant he'd have to look on with me. I was so determined not to given him any fuel for the fire, that I simply gave him my copies, then looked on with the person sitting next to me. In that moment I felt that by simply being alive I was encouraging him! He made other half-baked attempts at humour/flirting that I dodged and deflected with an icy stare.

I left class quickly because I was concerned that he was going to try to have a "moment" with me. Instead, he tossed off what I'm sure he thought was a breezy "call me." I lost even more respect for him.

I felt stuck, because this guy, just two weeks prior seemed like a great potential friend; hanging out with someone I didn't know well was novel, and therefore exciting. What's more, he'd been generous enough to pay for my dinner the first time, so it would not only seem odd to refuse to spend time with him at least once more, but would also leave me with this uncomfortable debt over my head.

If I let that meal he bought stand as is, It's as good as saying we went on a date (I say this because of where I think his head is. I mentioned before that I suspected he made more of it than I did.) But I was chagrined to go out with him again, alone, which might arguably subject me to more discomfort in the future.

Then I got a brilliant idea.

I asked one of our mutual classmates, a woman, to join us. He knows her and they once attended a reading together (she invited the whole class, but he was the only one who responded in the affirmative), so I thought I could just play that "the more, the merrier" card and inform him "oh, by the way, C will be joining us. We'll just meet you there." Which is what I did.

Come to find out from C, she knows exactly where I'm coming from where he's concerned, and is more than happy to lend her services, because she too felt weird at the thought of being alone with him at the reading, and at the last moment "dragged a coworker along," much to his seeming chagrin. She said he seemed annoyed that another person was with them, though the initial invitation was by no means exclusive to him. Since then, she has deliberately and significantly distanced herself from him, she told me.

I felt extremely validated and was pleased to have my instincts corroborated.
He hasn't yet acnowledged my message about C and I meeting him at the restaurant as yet. I wonder if he'll slink off, or if he'll force me to get hyper blunt with him (which, I'm telling you, he does not want, because I won't spare him if it comes to that).

The underlying drama of all this is that it made me realize how burdensome unsolicited, unrequited interest is. I nearly sent g an e-mail apologizing for subjecting him to my feelings for so long. Suddenly his totally ignoring me at the St. Patrick's Day party in 2002 made a lot of sense. I felt so retrospectively embarrassed because he, at times, must have felt toward me what I felt toward this kid on Tuesday night.

In one of our team meetings we got the "it's time to go the extra mile" pep talk. The pep talk which basically means anyone not working later or coming in earlier or taking work home is dead weight, and yes, your bonus may be impacted. Speaking of bonuses, I already have at least thirty ideas in mind for how to purpose the money. This is a great time to remember that one shouldn't count one's chickens before they hatch. These adages exist for a reason. Someone somewhere learned these truths the hardway. I'll say it, because someone should. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Think about it.

With all that in mind, I don't want to speak prematurely, but I may have some really great news regarding my sister soon. When it's official, I'll share.

My dreams were disjointed. In one segment, a series of steaming coffee karafes were sticking, handle side out, of the mailbox slots in my apartment building. The handles were orange, indicating a decaf brew. Every one had one except for me, and I thought, "well, the mailman knows I'm not drinking coffee anymore..."

It was a very striking image...that series of coffee pots in mailboxes. I might want to develop that for a poem.

Also, rather unceremoniously, I had a skim vanilla latte on Sunday. I ordered decaf, but I don't believe that's what it was. I didn't wake up planning it, but when Sarah and I were at starbucks, I decided to have one to test the waters, in lieu of the green tea I usually order at cafes now. It has clearly been long enough because it just wasn't that big a deal to me (and I know lattes are more milk than anything else), and I wasn't immediately sucked back into the addiction vortex. I may be ready to have the real stuff from time to time now.

Your #1 Match: ISTJ

The Duty Fulfiller You are responsible, reliable, and hardworking - you get the job done. You prefer productive hobbies, like woodworking or knittings. Quiet and serious, you are well prepared for whatever life hands you. Conservative and down-to-earth, you hardly ever do anything crazy. You would make a great business executive, accountant, or lawyer.

Your #2 Match: ESTJ

The Guardian You're a natural leader and quick, logical decision maker. Goals are important in your life, and you take many steps to acheive them. You enjoy interacting with others, mostly through work related activities. Your high energy level means you are great at getting things done! You would make a great teacher, judge, or police detective.

Your #3 Match: ISFJ

The Nurturer You have a strong need to belong, and you very loyal. A good listener, you excell at helping others in practical ways. In your spare time, you enjoy engaging your senses through art, cooking, and music. You find it easy to be devoted to one person, who you do special things for. You would make a good interior designer, chef, or child psychologist.

What's Your Personality Type?

Clearly, Quiz Crazy...



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American Cities That Best Fit You:

65% Chicago

65% New York City

60% Boston

60% Philadelphia

50% Los Angeles

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

Let's Hope...

Your Seduction Style: The Coquette

You are a pro at playing the age old game of hard to get. Your flirting style runs hot and cold, giving just enough to keep them chasing you. Independent and self-sufficient, you don't need any one person to make you compelte. And that independence is exactly what makes people pursue you.

What Is Your Seduction Style?

Riding Devika's Coattails

Your Linguistic Profile:

50% General American English

35% Yankee

15% Dixie

0% Midwestern

0% Upper Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Cleaning Phase I Completed

After eating the small amount of leftover Afghan food (from Wednesday's outing) supplemented by roasted brussel sprouts and carrots, I went out for about a two-mile walk (with free weights). It felt so primitive compared to my gym workouts. But hey, I shouldn't knock it. I lost the first twenty pounds just doing that two or three times a week.

Cleaning is wonderfully invigorating. I finished sweeping, mopping, and wiping the kitchen by about 9:00, and then finally got the gumption to move my cd shelf from the bedroom into the hallway, so that I could rearrange the bed and open up the room some more. My sister is bringing her keyboard (w/stand), so creating a place for it was crucial.

Tomorrow, when I return from Sarah's, I'll do more dusting and sweeping. I'll also clean the bathroom. But today, I go wholesale club shopping. With two people in the house buying some things in bulk suddenly sounds like a good idea.

At this point, I'm just waiting for Sarah to arrive. We'll begin with breakfast at the One World (I am in love with their 7-grain pancakes!), then we'll push off onto our shopping adventure.