Yesterday was a day for making the train against all odds. I thought I'd miss the 2:45 train to DC because I had an appointment with the leasing agent at 2:30 to hand over my application, sign forms, etc., but I made it with about a minute to spare! Then, because two people, including me, didn't have poems last night, we got let out early. So, I got the 8:40, not the 10:45, home.

But before that I had dinner with the lovely Devika. We enjoyed cocktails, soup, salad (for her), and eggrolls (for me) at California Pizza Kitchen. Our server did not understand timing, or the nuances thereof, that are necessary to help the customer feel unrushed, and that the meal is being well-paced. He took soup I wasn't quite finished with (he didn't ask), and then later asked if I was done with a plate of food that I was obviously still eating from.

Anyway, the delightful surprise of the evening was that the adorable Monito made a cameo appearance, surprising both Devika and myself at the restaurant! We were just about wrapping up dinner when he arrived, so we settled the check and parted ways with him at Starbucks, where Devika and I stopped for a cappuccino before my class.

I could go on seeing her at least once a week for the rest of my life!

Oh, but check this out. I think that kid from my class last year, the one I went on the "date" with, might still be nursing a little crush on me. He's also in this workshop. I'd let my guard down a bit since he's made such a big deal about his woman friend being so into him and vice versa. Maybe she's his imaginary girlfriend....

Hi, Space, it's nice to meet you; I'm Location.

The apartment I saw yesterday has all the antiquity and charm I admire, and is in a location that is roughly equidistant to work and the university, and the square footage for the price is amazing. And the space is really the selling point, because there is no dishwasher, or other new appliances included, but I'll forego a dishwasher for about double the space (both bedrooms are huge!) at only 30 dollars more a month than I'm paying now for this adorable matchbox I live in.

At this point, I am of the mindset that I'd like to move forward. I plan to take over my application today.

Here are the known pros:

Secure building
Vintage building (built in 1906)
equidistant to work and school
will cut my daily bus fare by about a third (one bus will get me to work now; no connection)
I can walk to my hair salon and many other excellent places from the locale (like the train station)
SQUARE FOOTAGE (1295 sq. ft)
Onsite management
Heat is included (it usually is in these older buildings)
The price is right

Here are the known cons:

No longer across the street from my gym
No longer have immediate access to the One World

Let me just tell you how good God is...

I realized that that appointment tomorrow morning was too soon after my appointment this afternoon for me get any sort of process underway. I would still be in the position of not knowing enough in order to take a step in any one direction. So I prayed that God would delay (or cancel), somehow, the proceedings with the people I was to see tomorrow morning.

I just got a phone call.

the appointment I had for tomorrow morning has been pushed back a week! They won't have all the paperwork ready by tomorrow, and I really can't comfortably do any week day except Thursday because I work from home and have the flexibility to run errands, etc. Anyway, having an extra week will do one of two things for me:

1. If I like the place I see today, I'll have time to apply, get approved, and move forward with that leasing agent in plenty of time to cancel the appointment with the other realty company on March 2nd.

Or

2. If the place today is a no-go for whatever reason, I'll have time to pursue something else altogether.

Either way, when I could not, no matter how many pros I listed, make myself feel okay about the one place, I prayed that God would make a way for me to know, conclusively, if it is His will for me to live there. I definitely see this turn of events as an answer to that prayer.

I saw a semi charming apartment in Charles Village last night. The rental rate is good given the location, but the space is too small for me. I'm looking to spread out, not contract. For those of you who pray, please pray that the place I am seeing today at 5 will work out. If you don't pray, per se, then send out loving vibes and good thoughts if you can!

I've realized something: My apartment search, in many ways, mimics my "search" for the perfect mate. Not that I'm searching now so much, but it is quite similar to that process as I've experienced it over the years. Of all the places I've seen, I can honestly say there was something about almost all of them that would make them convenient or pleasant in some way, but the feeling you get when you know has been missing. And that is crucial. Even that first place that I loved so much, but just didn't/don't feel quite right about...I have an appointment on Thursday morning to see that place again and potentially put down a security deposit on it. A large, for me, sum of money, that would hurt to lose. Maybe now I know how a woman might feel when she's on the verge of marrying the wrong man...

What I am hopeful for is that by the end of my appointment today I won't need to keep that meeting because I will have found my new home.

In Good Faith...

I reserved movers! April 22nd is my move date, come what may.

Valentine's Day/Presidents' Day Happenings

Sarah and I made the decision to exchange trinkets (inexpensive presents) for Valentine's day this year. Since her breakup with Michael, we've been trying to keep things that have the potential to get heavy and burdensome, light. So we set a 30-dollar limit way back in January for a mini gift exchange on Feb 14th (or thereabouts). We didn't get to open up our wares until this Saturday night (the 18th) when we got together, but it was so fun, almost better than Christmas, because there wasn't all this pressure to break the bank on mad crazy loot, yo.

I loved everything she got me! Three pairs of socks, two in the argyle style; A cocktail shaker (with a rubber grip, Devika will know what this means! No lost alcohol!) with an Anne Taintor illustration on the front; a milk frother; a mouse pad with an illustration of a dog that looks just like miss Babygirl; a children's book on not being rude (it's to help me with attitude adjustments when I get snarky :) ); a fantabulous set of drinking glasses that feature major world cities; and last but not least a pink& brown starbucks mug and gift card!

Other than that, I took off on Presidents' day (my company observes MLK's b-day instead) to deal with apartment stuff. I saw two places, called a few more, and set up some more appointments for later this week. At this point, it feels safe to say that I will know where I'm moving by Friday.

Also, got a nibble on a resume I sent out. Pray/send out good vibes. It's time for some things to shift!

Reorienting myself helped tremendously. I felt significantly more balanced yesterday; it helped more that I decided not to pore relentlessly over the classifieds for the time being. It's about putting one foot in front of the other. And my weekly visit with Devika did wonders for replenishing my soul. Some people just make you feel enriched when you're around them; she has such an enjoyable spirit. Completely non-toxic!

I'm a little tired from the train haul back home, but none the worse for wear. The Weekend is here again...and there's no snow in the forecast that I know of....

The antidote to a restless spirit...

is praise and communion. In the Bible there is a story about two sisters. Mary and Martha. They are two sides of the same coin--one of them represents acts of service, the other, contemplation and enjoyment of God. Fellowship with him, in essence. At one point during the Parable in which Jesus is visiting these two sisters, Martha, the "doer" complains bitterly "Lord! Tell my sister to help me. Don't you care that she has left me to make all these preparations alone?" Mary had simply been sitting at Christ's feet, talking to him. Jesus very compassionately replies to her "Martha, Martha, you are worried about many things, but Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken from her."

The point of that story isn't that one doesn't have to do things, or that is okay to shirk one's duties, but more that practicing the presence of God--enjoying him through worship, praise, prayer, and communion prevents us from getting to that place of bitterness where our duties and obligations are concerned. And what is more, that it is far more important to draw near to the spirit of God than to do anything. For the Christian, our most important business is the business of our relationship with God.

Lately, I have been frazzled. So turned around that I am incapable of focusing on any one thing, because I have so much on my mind. Today, this really started to wear on me, and I began to crave intimacy with God, to just be in his presence. I simply wanted to steal away to a quiet place and free myself of all distraction so that I could enjoy him.

After class I came home and began to listen to one of my favorite worship music albums and lit some candles and incense. I made a cup of peppermint tea with honey, and just let the simple rhythms of the music still me. And I found, again, that God is always waiting for me to draw near, and that when I do, he is right there to meet me.

What is this? Greul Gruel?

In order to compete with the likes of Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, and other specialty/organic markets, I've seen a lot of chain grocers step up their game by including organic sections in their stores. I was at one such chain recently and bought a box of Organic Instant Oatmeal, and it tastes awful! Somebody needs to go back to the drawing board on that one...

FAFSA

I finally dealt with finacial aid stuff for fall 2006-spring 2007. Fortunately, I did this tonight because it had been unbeknownst to me that tomorrow is the deadline for part-time students (at my university anyway). Now all I have to do is mail and/or fax the info to my school's financial aid office and I'm done. Now it's up to them to give me aid or not.

I was supposed to go to the gym tonight, but opted to hang out with Sarah for a bit instead. By the time I got home, I thought, "I guess I'll do FAFSA." It's always good to go with your instincts. If I hadn't, I would have been under the impression that I had oodles and oodles of time to get this finished.

I am so psyched. I just downloaded The Beastie Boys' "So what'cha want" from iTunes. I had forgotten all about that song until tonight. Hearing it still puts me in the best mood.

I was able to rule out the place I saw last night in mere seconds. Actually, truth be told, I was hoping I wouldn't like it, because it is farther away from campus than I'd like. I really want to be closer in to the city proper.

In any case, one of the tenants showed me the space because the landlord is hard to reach...all the time... I wouldn't say it was a pit, exactly. Actually, it has the potential to be a very lovely space, but structural damage made it an absolute deal breaker for me. The rent could not be beat and now I know why. It seems that the last tenant moved out a year ago because she got tired of asking to have repairs made. That was all I needed to know. I was in and out in less than five minutes.

Well, so I know my apartment is still out there. It's waiting for me and I'm waiting for it...

Irons in the Fire

This morning, after getting to work an hour and a half later than usual (weather-related complications), I hit the ground running. I prepared notes for a meeting, I started editing some new material, applied for a job, sent out some e-mails to friends, and sent out yet another apartment-related inquiry. I've started feeling an urgency around finding new work as intense as the urgency I feel about getting a new place to live. Tonight, after work, I'm going to see an apartment in a house in the Roland Park area. I don't have a gut instinct about it right now, but I think I'll know one way or the other after I see it.

The weekend, snow aside, was pleasant. I spent Saturday and Sunday with Sarah, as per usual, and we ate some great food and watched one really excellent movie, "Hustle & Flow." It's not something I was overtly interested in seeing at first, but my interest was piqued when I noted that it was up for a few prestigious awards. In any case, it was available at the video store on Saturday before the deluge of white really hit, so we snapped it up. I am so glad I saw this movie. It has a very important message to communicate, and does so while using the most base examples of humanity, while remaining compassionate toward those archetypes. I really appreciated it.

So much for fiscal responsibility...

I forgot the tuna sandwiches. I even told myself "now don't forget those tuna sandwiches, because then your efforts will be moot." I realized just before the bus pulled up to Penn Station that my dinner was still in my fridge at home. So I'd have to get a quick, hopefully cheap bite out once I got to Washington. Moving on.

I didn't do too badly until I was waiting at Union Station for that last train home after class... I went into Starbucks for a green tea and just happened to notice that they had oatmeal raisin cookies (my favourite) and the new Beth Orton CD...

Today is a new day, so I'm just going to take it from the top. (Honestly, I might need a 12-step program)

One Reason I know My Attitude About Money Is Changing...

Because I am not meeting Devika before class this week (sadness!), I knew I would have to figure out dinner on my own. I'd already made up my mind to treat myself to a starbucks purchase of some sort, but I was vacillating on where to get dinner. Then an idea hit me. I could make some tuna fish, throw together a couple of sandwiches, put them in a plastic container, and be done with it. Economical and easy. Now that luxury coffee drink won't seem so extravagant.
As someone who loves to eat out, the fact that I was so excited to realize I could just make something... well, I think it's tantamount to a sinner turning from her evil ways.

Grace

is drinking coffee out of a red mug; is plans going off without a hitch; is being saved by the bell, is a safety net; is jazz on a sunday morning; is a hug when you least deserve one; is a gerber daisy, fully open whether the sun is shining or not; is the joy you feel when it's one of your closest friend's birthdays... Happy 31st, my Catchka!

Observations on Editor Boy (as he shall henceforth be known)...

He wears his pants about 3 sizes too large. I've noticed this phenomenon among a lot of men who are of a medium build (or smaller); they buy pants (khakis, usually) that are meant for a much larger man. Is this perhaps because they just grab a random pair of pants off the shelf and buy them without trying them on?

P.S. I've always wanted an excuse to call a man 'Editor Boy.' For a while another coworker was pinch-hitting by working in an editorial capacity in addition to all his other responsibilities. I called him Disgruntled Editor Boy.

I have a new colleague, also an editor. Today is his first day on the job. So far he's asked good questions and seems to have a solid grasp on things. In truth, I wouldn't be surprised if he's a better editor than I am. Often, I am bored by my job and a little too restless to really focus. Editors shouldn't be restless; they should be relentless in the quest to correct errors. I'd be a good content editor for books and magazines, I think. Not the comma splice kind who looks for erroneous punctuation, which is more like what I do now.

I've got a lead or two on the apartment front. I dreamt for the last two nights about living in one of the apartments I saw on Friday, but I decided that I needed to cut my losses and not hold out hope for something unrealistic. Something better could be right around the bend, and I don't want to miss out on it because I'm still stuck on the first thing I saw. I've done that far too many times in my life.

Rain & Fog

I saw three apartments yesterday. They each had something charming, advantageous, and desirable about them. Each unit I saw is a bit more expensive than I should really commit to, and the security deposit is 1.5 months' rent. And they are all available now. I'm not in a position to proceed with anything until the end of March at the absolute earliest, but the middle of April would really be the most comfortable, financially.

But the thing is this: I so want one of the apartments I saw, in particular. I can see my stuff in it. I can visualize having people over to it. I can imagine the life I want unfolding in that space. And I feel defeated because I probably can't have that place. I keep trying to think of a way to justify it, and I'm coming up short.

It is my hope to use movers this time around, but I might have to forfeit that convenience as well. I had forgotten that many places require a security deposit that is at least one month's rent. I have been fortunate so many times to have been able to pay remarkably less due to specials or promotions, so I just wasn't considering that element of the process. Money I had earmarked to have perfect, professional strangers convey my things to a new locale may have to go to a leasing/realty company instead.

Sarah and I rode all through Charles Village last night writing down telephone numbers off of "for rent" signs, then came back to her place and looked up Web sites and numbers of other places in my part of town. After a somewhat defeated afternoon (or so it felt), I called a couple of buildings/listings, to no real avail (I got put on one person's list to be called "should anything change"). The next month or so will be all about calling around, pounding the pavement, and hawking Craigslist and the City Paper. Somewhere there is a place for me to live that will meet my needs and not bankrupt me. I just need to realize that I might not be able to have everything I want, but I can get close, perhaps.

High

I'm in such a good mood I'm useless. I cannot make myself focus on minutiae. In addition to the leftover good vibes from my visit with Devika and my anticipation regarding seeing apartments today, a coworker just told me I look skinny! I was going to the gym today, anyway, but now I can't wait to get there.

Also I'm listening to disc 1 of Prince: The Hits. His song "Adore"just gets me.

Tickets, Please

Okay, I've realized something. It is nearly impossible to tear myself away from time with Devika. Tonight she had me over to her apartment where she served me a delightful apricot martini (I had two actually!). We also enjoyed spinach salad with orange slices, toasted pine nuts, and balsamic (vinaigrette?) dressing. The mushroom pizza was absolutely delicious. My only regret is that I didn't get to finish my Turkish coffee at the end. It was 5:55 and I had to get going! We both tried to be mindful of the time and we were, but people, you have to understand. I never get to see her. For most of the years I've known this woman, I've never seen her twice in one year, let alone twice in the space of one week. Spending time talking to her is so comfortable and so enjoyable that I almost wish I could just skip class. Maybe I will once...

More good fortune. My prof gave me a ride home again tonight. I had gotten myself all psyched up to wait for that late train, but was spared the agony of the 2-hour lag. This afternoon as I was heading into DC via the MARC, I slept off and on. How can I describe sleep on a train? For me, it's complete surrender. A total rejection of the self-conscious preoccupation with the details that make up my life that usually compromises my rest.

Well honey-pies, tomorrow I do my first round of apartment inspections. I don't know what the future holds, but I'm getting up out of this matchbox.

The Pleasures of Working from Home

I work from my apartment every Thursday, for the next several months anyway, and it is the best. I begin with a 6 a.m. workout, which gets me all amped up for the day. After showering and eating breakfast, I'm online with access to work e-mail, files, and all the other systems and modes of communication my officemates have at their disposal....without having to be there.

When I get the urge to make a smoothie at 10 a.m. or so, I do it. I just go make one. Today I'm roasting stuffed chicken thighs (sides of white corn and spinach) for lunch and planning to take my lunch break in front of the television for Judging Amy on TNT at noon.

Now what I need is to set up some sort of arrangement where I can do this everyday without having to work at all. I get so much done in my personal life when my job is not an issue. Notice that this 50s-era photo features a woman who is home without any kids. I would love to be a stay at home wife. Once the kid came I'd hightail it back to work!

(please note: I respect stay at home moms very much. This post is in no way meant to be a statement against that choice. I'm simply acknowledging that it takes so much more to be at home with children than home alone on your own terms with all the time in the world, and is in essence a very real job on its own.)

Literary Integrity

I've held off commenting on the James Frey Million Little Pieces debacle because, well, I wasn't really sure I had an opinion about it until now.

Here's what I think:

I think he should have had the forethought to include a comprehensive author's note prior to printing about the intermingling of verifiable fact and literary license. In my mind, this is his main error.

With that said, I'm going to come out in defense of the man on one point. As a current student in a writing program, I can tell you for a fact that the memoir, as a genre, has become a very fluid concept. Frey is in no way the first author to take the seminal events or main structure of his life and render it with ficticious overtones, to replace facts with more "true" events that keep to the essence of the story, more than actual events would. In many cases, novels are written as memoirs, and the blurring of categories and genres is very much en vogue in literature. As is the genre I call "conjectured memoir," Girl with the Pearl Earring comes to mind.

I believe firmly in the adage that "facts are the enemy of truth,"at the very least, that facts often undermine the point a writer might most want to convey.

In this past semester alone I worked on a short story that is about 40% true in terms of actual events and 100% true in terms of the emotional connotation the piece renders. I don't know why everyone (the literary community and readers alike) is acting like this is some great scandal.

A point of impropriety and a lack of foresight, I grant you, since one disclaimer would have prevented all of this. But let's ask ourselves:

How many memoirists have, in relying solely upon memory, distorted the facts of their personal history and not been caught? Do we really care? We live in a time when most people are doing their damndest to do away with absolute truth anyway, so this outcry seems a little hypocritical to me.

I know. For some the point is the intentional fabrication of facts. I'm not saying I'm okay with that. I'm saying the man shouldn't lose his literary credibility for this misstep. From what I understand, he's a gifted author who told a compelling story, at the center of which were true events, true things about his struggles with drug addiction. Subsequent printings of his book will come with a note. There. Moving on.

I'll say this. If I were him there's no way I would have reappeared on Oprah. From what I understand, she was merciless. And I understand that, too. Her credibility is also at stake.

He who tends a fig tree will eat its fruit (Proverbs 27:18)

I love figs. When I was a girl my stepfather and I had an understanding. Fig newtons were the symbol in our limited lexicon for "I'm sorry." When he wanted to apologize for some parental misstep, he bought me my own pack to eat and enjoy.

I didn't know then that the cookie portion of the treat was not part of the fig. I saw it as one entity. The fig newton.

A little later I got it. The thick, sensual layer of goo was the fig. It stood to reason. That is the best part of that concoction.

As an adult I've had the great fortune to eat at restaurants that serve wonderfully appealing plates with sumptuous sauces--fig reductions, balsamic glazes, and the like. But I had yet to eat a dried fig, all by its lonesome, until a few days ago. I ate almost the entire bag of them in the space of three days. And now I'm on my second bag, and I cannot get enough of the poetically named Black Mission Fig.

The scripture that functions as the title of this post has always meant a lot to me. It's part of the lexicon I share with God where his promises to me are concerned. Several years ago now I poured my heart out to him about a specific fear of mine. The fear of always having to sacrifice, of always having to sow what someone else would reap. And that is the scripture I came across as I was praying.

Literally, figs are mine in abundance. And I'm certain that the metaphoric, symbolic answer he was giving me in that passage is in no way undermined because he has also chosen to fulfill the literal implication. He's such a poet, creating both tenor in vehicle in one fell swoop.

Karma

You all may remember my moment of uncharacteristic bravery with a gorgeous cafe-goer some months back. If you don't feel like clicking the link to revisit the past, I'll sum up in short order:

Before I left the Seattle's Best Annex of Borders one late fall evening, I took the time to tell a fellow patron that he was beautiful and that I just wanted him to know that. The important part of that incident for me was not this excellent-looking creature, but me, feeling that I had the right to say something to him about it. I didn't want his number; I didn't need him to say anything. I simply needed to tell him. I rode the high for a week afterward.

Tonight, after a low-key, very adult-feeling happy hour with C and A at Pazo, I came home and quickly assessed that I had no dinner fixings. The tapas at the restaurant would not be enough to hold me over for the whole of the night, so I realized I'd have to call on my old friend the One World Cafe.

About 10 minutes after placing my carryout order (tuna sand on multigrain bread w/wasabi mayo and a small hot chocolate), I walked up the block to retrieve it. While waiting at the counter for the cashier to acknowledge me (he was on the phone) another young man appeared behind the counter. Based on his apron and the style of his pants, he seemed to be kitchen staff--perhaps a line chef. In any case, I thought for a moment, after he said "excuse me," that he wanted to help me, so I started to tell him my order, but he very tactfully stopped me and said:

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to tell you you're beautiful. He'll still be the one to help you [indicating the counter man who was still on the phone], but I just wanted to tell you that."

I thanked him, truly taken aback, but pleasantly so. I immediately thought about the fact that I didn't have on any lipstick and my hair had run the day's paces and looked like it had been through the ringer. Well. Maybe not that bad, but certainly not freshly coiffed. And still he said that to me.

There have been a handful of times in my life when a man's comments about my face or body have made me feel like garbage, though I knew he perceived his attentions to be positive.
And there have been a handful of times when a man's attentions have felt like a deposit into, not a withdrawal from, my spirit. This was one of those times.

I'm reminded of Bjork's song All is full of love. Things come back to you, always, eventually.

All's Well That Ends Well

The form I needed arrived! Thank God. Taxes are all done and can be e-filed tomorrow (updated form that cannot be processed till Feb 1). Again, hats off to my best friend-cum-accountant, Sarah.

Tonight, after work I am meeting up with an ex-coworker and a current coworker for happy hour here. In keeping with my new quest to be less capricious with my cash, I'm going to exercise restraint. I've looked at the menu, and it's entirely possible to get out of there spending less than 20 dollars, which for a place of that caliber, is probably only the case during happy hour!

I'm in full planning mode now. Starting to think about painting my new place. What about a bedroom that has creamy coffee coloured walls, with one chocolate brown accent? If I manage to swing a second bedroom, I'm thinking a nice warm pumpkin colour for that (not orange. pumpkin. there's a difference).

Death & Taxes

My accountant, Sarah, started helping me with my taxes this weekend--and because my university does nothing with any expedience, I still don't have my 1098-T form, which will help determine my refund (Education Tax Credit). It's stressful, I tell you! I just want to go ahead and file and be done with it, because my application for aid for the Fall of 2006 semester is utterly contingent on my tax return info...

Oddly enough, the great state of Maryland may be giving me money this year. Usually I owe them some minor ducats (somewhere in the range of 4-30 dollars).

In other news, I did make some headway with my program on another front. I confirmed with the department co-chair this morning that the instructor of my choice can serve as my thesis advisor (the dept. co-chair swears he wrote me to this end before, but acknowledged that the e-mail may have been misrouted). And with his approval, I can take an "extra" course in tandem with my Thesis & Publication class to meet the 2-class minimum requirement to get financial aid. All of my required courses will have been taken (and must be) before I enroll in the thesis process, but I'll have to pay for that class out of pocket unless I take another course as well. The government won't lend you money unless you're at part-time status.

In any case, things are looking up.

Vintage Coffee

Still a major poetic trope in my life. So much more than a beverage, the hinge of my conversations, the olfactory quest, the perfect accompaniment to jazz, to tragedy, to happiness, to work, to rest. It goes with everything--the metaphor of my landscape. I could write an ode to the way it rushes up to meet the cream--the way, together, they make a tumultuous cloud of violent swirling before they give in to each other.

After a delightful Sunday in which Sarah and I met a mutual friend at Fazzini's in the suburbs, we made our way down to Caribou coffee in that place in between city and suburbs, and I sipped a truly mediocre cuppa. A shadow of what java should be.

And I realized that all a mediocre cup of joe does is make me long more deeply. In some ways, even a bad coffee experience is still all right. There's always the hope of the perfect cup...

First steps toward financial integrity

Starting a savings account (as I post) via phone!

Easy Peasy

I loved seeing Devika prior to my class tonight and look forward to many more meetings through early May! My train commute, thanks to my mix, was the appropriate combination of introspective and arty. The 3:30 is an express, so we made it to DC in about 45 minutes. Train travel still connotes such tortured, beautiful longing for me.

This poetry workshop is going to be enjoyable; I can feel it. I had an immediate sense that the exchanges will be beneficial and governed by a kind of poetic simpatico. This was also the case last night in my "The Short Story: Past and Present" class. Maybe I'm just used to the way things work now, but in both cases I felt like a duck in water. I have my bearings.

And if all that weren't enough, My instructor was able to give me a lift home tonight because a prior commitment of hers wasn't in effect this evening. That beat waiting around for the 10:45 train and not getting back to Baltimore till midnight!

Oh, and I made an appointment to look at three apartments next Friday! Progress.

Blue Train

Today, for the first time, I will trek down to Washington, DC for the poetry workshop class I'm taking (putting myself through the hassle for the sake of finishing this M.A. in good time) this semester. In honour of the occasion, I've made myself a CD compilation. If you'd like to add The "Blue Train Mix" to your Itunes playlist, the songs are as follows:

Blue Train (Coltrane)
Light Enough to Travel (The Be Good Tanyas)
Sweetest Decline (Beth Orton)
Fill Me In (Craig David)
#41 (Dave Matthews Band)
I Thought About You (Ella Fitzgerald)
Couldn't Hear Me (Eric Roberson)
Luxurious (Gwen Stefani)
Plane (Jason Mraz)
Paris Train (Beth Orton)
Change Clothes (Jay-Z)
Let's Get Lifted Again (John Legend)
Jet Lag (Joss Stone)
Hejira (Joni Mitchell)
Mona Lisa (Nat King Cole)

What Would Audrey Do?

Well I'm in a pickle. I have some outstanding debt and my own financial folly is the cause. I've called up the company with whom I'm in the deepest and set up an aggressive payment plan. I have to live on a budget for the foreseeable future, but what am I to do about my highfalutin sensibilities? Good-bye iPod dream. So long digital camera wish. Sayonara eating out. Adieu taxi cabs...

Thunder

That settles it. This is the best January ever. There is a thunderstorm underway as I type. I'm taking pleasure in lots of little things lately and it's extremely liberating. I am truly happy about this weather.

I think I may have eaten too much tonight. After working out for about a half hour I came home and heated up leftovers, but I also had to make another meal for lunch/dinner tomorrow and after said meal was done, I had a little taste of that too. And I finished off the mango sorbet. I wouldn't say it was piggish. Not quite.

Am Feeling less overwhelmed. I made a list, which always helps.

Is it wrong that I'm over my current tube of toothpaste and plan to switch it out for the new Colgate Vanilla Mint that I bought? I'm not out of the current tube (several brushings' worth to go), but I'm over it. I love the taste of the vanilla mint. It makes me jazzed about brushing my teeth. Like love to do it if I can use that stuff...

Okay. I'll save the rest of the lacklustre Crest for an emergency. I won't throw it out. Thanks. You really helped me make a good decision there, blogging world.

All right. Time for bed.

I feel Overwhelmed

I need to find a place to live by the end of March, at the latest. And ideally, I need to find a new job. But that can wait till May. Maybe.

Learning to Be Content In All Situations: The Gift of Singleness

Don't worry. This isn't going to be one of those posts. I'll begin by telling you, dear reader, that I have more often than not seen my single status, not as a cause celebre, but a curse. A hairshirt. I, as someone who is supposed to be trusting God for everything, have often felt that he was holding out of me in this area. It has been a sore spot between us in the past. Maybe it will be again. I don't know. But I do know this. The Almighty does not do clenched fists. Pride cometh before a fall. You don't step to him with an attitude, etc. He's a loving father, but he's not about to let the likes of me punk him.

What I mean is that I've often felt in my heart, deep down where it really counts, that God owed me for my less than idyllic childhood. I wanted him to pay me back for everything that I lost or missed out on. Not trusting him to do it in his time, but in effect saying, "Fix it or I won't bow my heart before you."

Let's take this out of the realm of the divine for a minute.

Have you ever had anyone approach you from this place of arrogance? What was your reaction? When someone talks to me like I owe her something, especialy when I don't, my gut response is "um, just who do you think you're dealing with here?"

God is not a human being, but he's relational, and the laws of relationships are at work when you talk to him. Frankly, I know his patience is inexhaustible because I alone am exasperating.

In any case, I've been bellyaching for a long time about everything in general, but specifically about the fact that I'm [insert age here] and still without a date, let alone a boyfriend or husband. Then after kvetching, kicking, and screaming, I internally throw up my hands and say, in effect, "fine, I'll take care of this myself!"

My efforts haven't yielded anything to write home about. ever. I usually give up, affect a "zen" posture and say "che sera sera," but I've never really meant it until now.

My brief foray into online dating (online perusing, more like)sealed the deal. Everyone is so freaking desperate and most of them don't have anything to offer. So I asked myself "is this what you want?" The answer is no. I examined the road ahead and it was just miles and miles and miles of the same bleak terrain. Pointless e-mails. Men I couldn't even bring myself to pretend to want to meet for coffee, let alone dinner. I wasn't hitting my target audience. Even EHarmony.com told me that their service could not match me. Not that they couldn't match me at this time. They just couldn't match me. No further explanation.

One night, suffering from a bout of insomnia, I was reading the archives on an old acquaintance's blog. And he said that he came to a place of organic acceptance regarding his lack of a mate and found peace in that. It's not that he didn't want to meet and marry the right woman, he just stopped striving.

Let me tell you something. You can't stop striving until you're tired of striving. Even giving up has got to be an authentic place you come to after you've worn yourself out.

So I pondered these things in my heart and realized that I've been spinning. Doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result, which I've heard is the definition of insanity.

My prayers changed to:

God, help me to be grateful for where I am right now, for how things are right now. God, thank you that I am single. Thank you that this is what you are doing in my life, now what do you want me to do? Thank you, Father, that you were faithful to reveal in time that all of the men I've wanted in the past were not your perfect will for me. I know you have a plan for me that is perfect, and whether it includes marriage or not, I know that it is good because you are good.

And then I laid this burden down. And the gigantic chip on my shoulder.

I made it to the office, for just over half the day. I was home by about 1:15. I just started to feel exhausted and in danger of overdoing it, so I gathered up my things, pleased to have made it through the bulk of the day. It was so good to see my coworkers again, two of them in particular. And I got some good work done.

Once back on my couch, I flipped through the latest O magazine and watched the daytime schedule of syndicated shows I came to count on to buoy me through the worst of my flu or whatever it was. I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the first Drew Carey and was out until the end of the second one. I dreamed I was walking with my father on an errand to pick up pizza for everyone back at our vacation house. But he was so overcome with hunger on the way back that he just tore into the box and began wolfing down the contents. Watching him, I realized how starving I was. This caused me to wake up and go to the fridge to grab a yogurt I purchased from Whole Foods earlier this afternoon. I continue to be intrigued by how the body will find a way to tell you what it needs--how resourceful it is.

I haven't had time to comment on my very emotionally productive time with Victoria last Saturday night. It was validating where the relational angst of the last year is concerned. Details aren't important and wouldn't serve my goal of discretion, but I can say this. It's good when someone knows just where you're coming from and can support you without compromising her own position on things. Thank you, God, for noble friends.

Cabin Fever

I may finally be coming out on the other side of this...thing that had me in its tenterhooks. Obviously I won't be going into many details, but I will say that the overarching theme of this illness was the way it crippled my will. I didn't have the usual haze, the jaundiced lens that superimposes itself over the world when I'm sick. I just couldn't seem to make anything happen much. If I wanted to watch a "Judging Amy" rerun on the TNT network at 12, I had to start actively thinking about getting out of bed at 9, so that by 11:45 I'd be situated on the couch with the remote in hand. Or I'd be thirsty for hours before I'd finally manage to get a glass of water.

In any case, I think I've turned a corner b/c I just got back from what was supposed to be a quick errand, but that turned into about a half hour walk and I felt so invigorated! Now I'm going to have some mango sorbet.

I'm trying this food thing again.

Back Home

I'd been at Sarah's from Sunday night until just about an hour ago. We planned for me to come over that night since we both had MLK's Birthday off work. Of course, we couldn't have planned that that night I would come down with a surprisingly tenacious stomach bug (surprising b/c I'm often able to shake a bug of any sort in 24 hours or less). Being at Sarah's place did give me someone to take care of me, which is no small thing. For most of today and all day yesterday I sat in her comfy chair with the heating pad attached to me, on "high" virtually non-stop, while she went off to work. The food I've eaten is negligle (Saltines, chicken soup, the usual suspects)but I have tried to hydrate.

At one point this morning, I walked to Sarah's neighborhood Safeway and bought about 30 dollars' worth of medicine and medicinal supplies. I thought I detected the beginnings of a sore throat--which for those who know me, know it is my own personal kiss of death. Not much will get me to a doctor, but I start mobilizing when my ability to swallow is compromised. I couldn't tell if there was yet another illness lurking, if my current one was morphing into something else, or if it was just ambient pain. I took some DayQuil, which seems to have tamed the beast for now. But if it persists, I will so be going to one of those fast-food type clinics for some antibiotics.

Anyway, I'm back home now, and while I am still decidely under the weather, I am what I would call a high-functioning invalid. I may try going in to work tomorrow for half a day. It's still too early to tell.

Top 5 Reasons I Know I'm Starting to Recover from The Stomach Bug

5. Stomach cramps fewer and farther between

4. The mere thought of eating, at some point in the future, not nearly as disgusting as it was 24 hours ago

3. It occurred to me to resume my reading of Steve Martin's Shopgirl

2. I put on lipstick (after bathing, washing my face, and moisterizing) and tried to do my hair

1. I had the strength to blog

Remember the day I unintentionally stiffed a cabbie?

Well, as I prayed would happen, today I encountered that driver again. After a wonderful breakfast of scrambled eggs, capers, lemon infused cream cheese, smoked salmon, and multi-grain toast, I walked to the cab station at the hotel that's just up the block and got into a taxi. Inside of 10 seconds I recognized the driver and made up my mind that I would pay not only this days's fare and a tip, but that I would give him what I owed him for last time.

I just wasn't sure what I should say to him, so I barrelled forward and asked him if he remembered driving me to work one morning in early October. After giving him some of the details, he did remember, and told me that he knew it had been an accident. I assured him that it had been and told him that I prayed I would get the opportunity to make it right.

I gladly gave him what was rightfully his when he dropped me off at the hair salon. What a gift to be able to make something right. What a gift that he had thought the best of me even when my mistake had been at his expense.

Tremendous!

the last day of the hardest year of our lives

A Foggy Day in Charm City

Cold Humidity. So gorgeous. Clouds that stop just short of touching the pavement. I've just had a scrumptuous breakfast (veggie fritatta, sausage, and oatmel w/ decaf coffee & whole milk)--I'm always so ravenous in the morning, and I think that lifting yesterday amped up my appetite even more. I'm still nursing the coffee and I'm starting to think about tidying up my cubicle.

After all the goings on here at the office over the last several weeks I am relieved that my manager will be on vacation all of next week. So glad in fact, that I almost wish Monday were not a paid holiday, because I want the full benefit of 5 solid days without that vibe around here. But I comfort myself in the following way: said manager will not return until Wednesday of next week, so after all is said and done, we'll have more than a week of peace.

Tonight, after work, we're all heading over to a local place for happy hour in honour of our fallen comrade (coworker who was railroaded into quitting, essentially), and then I will go to the gym. Tomorrow morning, off to the salon! And then I see my good friend V. It's all about little ports in the storm.

S. N. A. F. U.

So, our company switched to a different payroll system, which means we were issued live checks this pay period (today); direct deposit was not available (for this check only) for those who participate in that system. What this meant for me was taking half a personal day so that I could go and deposit my check into the bank. Except the date on the check is tomorrow's date so my bank wouldn't touch it.

I thought, initially, about just cashing it at the company's bank, but felt so defeated by the date barrier that I assumed no institution would process this check until tomorrow. I went home, ate lunch, and went to the gym.

And then, a surge of empowerment. I walked to a neighborhood branch of the company's bank and got their paper turned into cash (for a five dollar service charge, but it was worth it to me at that point). Tonight while I'm out to dinner with Sarah I'll put the money into an ATM. It should be available immediately since it's going in as cash. Rest assured I will be calling the good people at my banking institution tomorrow and making sure that's the case.

On the way back from the bank I stopped in at Carma's Cafe (a coworker just mentioned it to me the other day) and got a delicious skim, decaf latte. While there I bumped into my poetry workshop instructor from fall 2004 (whose class I will have again on the dc campus starting week after next); she didn't recognize me. Because I "usually wear a hat," she said. I think she was registering the weightloss differential and didn't want to run the risk of offending me...or, she knew something was different, but couldn't quite put her finger on it.

In any case, the snafu is back to just "s. n." (situation normal).

More of these things. Yes, I am bored, why do you ask?

You Are an Officelady!

It all seemed so blissful at first. Wear cute little suits, meet friends with matching suits, get a small salary. Well, you're going to be making copies for the rest of your life, and a good raise is not in your future. And forget about marrying out of this glass cieling! What? So you can make coffee at home and wash your husband's underwear? Gross!

What's Your Japanese Subculture?

Slow and Steady

Your friends see you as painstaking and fussy. They see you as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steady plodder. It'd really surprise them if you ever did something impulsively or on the spur of the moment. They expect you to examine everything carefully from every angle and then usually decide against it.

How Do People See You?

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

For the record, I hate the colour lime green...

Your Power Color Is Lime Green

At Your Highest: You are adventurous, witty, and a visionary. At Your Lowest: You feel misunderstood, like you don't fit in. In Love: You have a tough exterior, but can be very dedicated. How You're Attractive: Your self-awareness and confidence lights up a room. Your Eternal Question: "What else do I need in my life?"

What's Your Power Color?

You Are Likely a First Born

At your darkest moments, you feel guilty. At work and school, you do best when you're researching. When you love someone, you tend to agree with them often. In friendship, you are considerate and compromising. Your ideal careers are: business, research, counseling, promotion, and speaking. You will leave your mark on the world with discoveries, new information, and teaching people to dream.

The Birth Order Predictor

Dramatic Conclusion

My now ex-coworker ended up storming out (and rightfully so)on Tuesday afternoon, three full work days before her official end of service. I had just been commenting, not that long ago, to friends that I had grown to love everyone with whom I work so much, the Upper Eschelon aside, that I was content to stay put for the foreseeable future.

The downturn began slightly before Christmas. All sorts of decisions were being made at the top that eroded our collective morale, and then with all of the sidebar dramas between individual persons and management, well...

You know, I was trying to not be negative so I never voiced this, but when I started to feel that happy, I also started to feel that it was undoubtedly to be short-lived (though I hoped it would not be), because part of what makes a period in time magical (yes, it did feel magical)is the ephemeral nature of the conditions that come together to create it.

So, where does this leave me? Mobilizing, getting my ducks in a row.

So I saw the guy with whom I split a cab a few weeks back. Yesterday evening I was standing at the bus stop near my job waiting for the 4:45 when I happened to look up and see him, across the street, walking with a couple of other guys. They were clearly leaving the nearby construction site for the day. I'm glad to know that he got the job he went on and on about. He also seemed to have had a few already. That would be consistent.

The progressive dinner was okay. I entered the festivities at the third house (that of my neighbor) for the dessert portion. I had a tablespoon of banana pudding. That's it! I ended up talking at length with a bio-physicist Ph.D. candidate. He was one of these ask a lot of questions types. In a good way. He was apparently of the school of thought that "interested is interesting."

One of my coworkers resigned yesterday and I can't say that I'm surprised. There are pockets of low morale on our team, and I don't think she will be the last one to leave.

Sarah and I went to Pei Wei on York Road for a very late lunch/early dinner and I had a soba-miso noodle bowl that was absolutely delicious. Ginger, Shitake mushrooms, Spinach, and Chicken in a generous bed of soba noodles. At that moment I felt like it was the best thing I had ever eaten. And so healthy! I didn't get to work out today, which was a disappointment, but on the whole I've eaten pretty light, so perhaps it will all balance out.

In an effort to be more social, I'm attending part of a Graduate Christian Fellowship progressive dinner at a neighbor's house at 7 p.m. tonight. I'm still stuffed from the soba, so I hope it's okay that I don't want to have anything to eat.
I really feel like I'm supposed to go. It's good for me to make these small strides.

Yesterday I got two pair of pants and three sweaters from Old Navy. So now I know I should never buy jeans there, at least not until I'm closer to my goal weight, but maybe not even then. Even with their larger sizes (and I have to give them credit for offering sizes for women who would be considered plus sizes), it's clear that they have no expectation that a woman might have hips! Even when I'm smaller hips will be my curse. I've always wanted one of those androgynous bodies like Gwyneth Paltrow's (she, herself, seems very feminine, but her body is, in many ways, like a boy's), but that is not my lot in life.

I've always wished I had a lithe, elegant shape. I'm five feet tall, so of course my legs are short. Dresses and skirts are not my friends, unless they are A-lines, but even then, a pair of jeans or trousers are best.

I just climbed 80 floors! I did the stairmster in lieu of the elliptical tonight. It's important to mix it up.

Discretion is the better part of valor

I've been giving considerable thought to the notion of discretion off and on for several years now. For as conscientious and careful as I can be about many things, I'm not often very discreet, much to my chagrin. The spirit of discretion is about more than simply not telling other folks' business, it's about guarding one's mouth against saying or sharing anything that is not edifying or necessary. Indeed to reach the point at which one is not only not saying these things, but not thinking them.

I haven't attempted to calculate how many times in a given day I say things, make disclosures, or comment in mean-spirited ways about things that cannot help but to eventually poison my own character, and reflect badly upon me, but I know that they are legion. And it's been easy to slip into unthoughtful speech because I have confused it with "telling it like it is," or just sharing information among my friends, or whatever.

The Bible cautions repeatedly (mostly in the book of Proverbs) against being a babbling fool, giving full vent to one's anger, and being a dolt, in general.

I am willing myself to be more discreet as a matter of course, more principled in my dealings, both professional and personal. Up to this point (the mere handful of days I've been purposing to be more careful about my speech), I have found it to be remarkably liberating.

As I begin my freelance business my character will be even more important and will directly affect the success or failure of that business. Here's the thing: Most often people don't regret holding their tongues at that pivotal moment. I'm not speaking of a refusal to speak up for what's right. I'm thinking more about not always letting your left hand know what your right hand is doing, not being a gossip, or one who parlays the weaknesses of others in conversation for personal, social cachet.

It's important for me to audit my character on a regular basis because all kinds of malevolence can sneak in undetected. One of the dreams I have for myself is that I would be considered to be a woman of great honour and dignity. And I only want to be considered that if I am that.

I still haven't really started Persuasion. When I get home from the gym I pretty much want to eat dinner then putter about until bedtime. I'll hit my stride at some point, I guess. It was wise to raincheck some evening plans I'd made for this week in order to reclaim some lost ground in my life. I'll try again tonight with the book.

Operation The last 45 Pounds: Day 2

I have been holding at about 160 (165 post holiday weight at present)for the last few months. My gym attendance has been completely sporadic and while I by no means regressed to my old eating habits, I have been allowing myself all kinds of luxuries of late. A year ago on March 4th I told myself that I would be at my goal weight within one year. I may just get close to that. Today was my second day in a row of gym attendance and it is my objective to get there everyday and do a half hour, at least, on a cardio machine of my choice. Not that long ago, it seems, I was doing nearly an hour on the elliptical several times a week, but it started to wear on me, so I think I need to take it down a notch or two and shoot for consistency over marathon sessions.

I'm also going back to the eating pattern that was working for me. Several small meals and snacks during the day, taking some of the fat I'd allowed to sneak back into my diet, out, and of course pushing the fruits and vegetables and the water.

It's been nice to get all the support I've gotten on the weight I've lost so far, but I want to take it to the end. I won't be satisfied until I do.

Town Motto

So, you know the line from the song about New York Sinatra made famous.

"...If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere..."

I was talking to a woman at the bus stop this morning, and as our conversation progressed I asked her if she is from Baltimore originally. Long story short, the answer is no, but she's been here most of her life. So she asked me about my point of origin, which got me to talking about how much I love this town. That seemed to please her, and then she dropped the best line.

"As my daddy used to say, If you can't make it in Baltimore, you can't make it anywhere."

There it is, in a nutshell.

Complete and Utter Brain Lapse

Even though I am on hiatus from classes for a few weeks I'd made the decision to keep my normal Wednesday schedule at work. That is to say arriving at the office by 7 and leaving by 4. I woke up at 5 as I normally would on a class day so that I would be ready to catch the 6 o'clock bus. I should have left my house at 5:50 as I have done for months now, but for some reason I got the bus's arrival time mixed up with when I was supposed to leave my apartment, so at 5:56 I was still lolleygagging about, congratulating myself on pulling it all together perfectly before I needed to depart. Then it dawned on me what time it was.

I knew my chances of making the #61 were not great, but I had to try anyway. I got downstairs just in time to see it barrelling down my street. So back inside with me to catch up on blogs and do some more posting of my own.

I don't know what is up with me and the bus lately. We're just not meshing well.
The good news? My outfit of a dusty rose turtleneck sweater, tan & pink striped blazer, medium blue jeans, and granny boots (accessories include my silver watch and pink lady bug earrings)looks stellar.

Last one... for now...

Your 1920's Name is:

Althea Pinkie

What's Your 1920's Name?

Enough Already!

Your Love Element Is Wood

In love, you tend to gently dominate and guide your partner. For you, love is all about sharing goals and future plans. You attract others with creativity and vision. Your flirting style is defined by your honesty and assertiveness. Growth and improvement are the cornerstones of your love life. You may focus on goals too much in relationships, but you never come out of them with a loss. You connect best with: Water Avoid: Metal You and another Wood element: will be doomed to a stormy relationship

What Element Is Your Love?

Okay, I'm addicted to these things!

You Are a Losing Lottery Ticket!

Full of hope and promise. But in the end, a cheap letdown.

What Crappy Christmas Gift Are You?

I don't think anyone has ever taken my blog the wrong way...

Your Blogging Type is Logical and Principled

You like to voice your well thought out opinions on your blog. And if someone doesn't [like] what you write, you really don't care! Serious and blunt, sometimes people take your blog the wrong way. But you're a true and loyal friend to those who truly get you.

What's Your Blogging Personality?

And another...

You Are a Classic Martini

You area sophisticated drinker, who knows that simple quality is over-rated. You're a knowledgeable drunk, but sometimes you're a know-it-all when you're blasted. You should never: Drink and gossip. You tend to forget who's standing right behind you! Your ideal party: Has a real bartender. But no one mixes a better drink than you. Your drinking soulmates: those with a Chocolate Martini personality Your drinking rivals: those with a Margarita Martini personality

What Flavor Martini Are You?

I'll take it...

Your French Name is:

Madeleine Jardin

What's Your French Name?

On the Docket This Evening...

1. The Gym
2. Laundry
3. Persuasion

For dinner (after the gym), I'm thinking of making steak, zucchini,and whole wheat cous cous with sweet potato bisque to start. The soup may be too much. Maybe I'll bring that in tomorrow to eat with my lunch.

I checked out the new Feng Shui coffeehouse near my job. It's called Bluehouse. It's also an organic home furnishings and accessories store. The motto? Home. Coffee. Life. Good for you, Baltimore (it's a local company), starting to take yourself too seriously. The first sign that you're a bonafide metropolis.

Unrelated. I'm in the mood to go to church this Sunday. I've been neglecting my spiritual care and feeding.

True...

Your Inner Child Is Angry

You're not an angry person. But when you don't get your way, watch out. Like a very manipulative kid, you will get what you want. Even if it takes a little kicking and screaming.

How Is Your Inner Child?

Holiday Wrap Up!

Sarah and I got the idea to do gift cards this year in lieu of going out and buying each other various and sundry items, we thought we'd give each other buying power at our favourite stores, and then go shopping together in the days immediately after Christmas. I reasoned that it would be like getting the same gift twice (or more!).

Thanks to my best friend's generosity I got the dark wood salad bowl
and the woven basket hamper I'd been coveting from Pier 1, amongst many other goodies. I have yet to make use of the Whole Foods card she gave me, but you, dear reader, know that I'll burn through that this week, in all likelihood.

Christmas day was split between my mom's house (early morning guilt trip...hello! way to start things off badly, mom!) and then moseying on down to Richmond to spend a couple of days with Sarah's parents, who set me up with a lovely gift card to Old Navy (it's not chump change!). Can't wait to use that one... I've never been able to shop there before so I'm looking forward to giving my wardrobe a bit more of a jump start.

Once back in the Baltimore area I continued my vacation at Sarah's apartment. We shopped some on Thursday and Friday, and on Saturday we tidied up her place and brought out her classy new dishes from Crate & Barrel for use and packed up her old ones to be given away.

New Year's Eve night we went to see "The Family Stone," which was somewhat disappointing, but not horrible. We capped off 2005, a difficult but productive year by watching Disc 5 of Oprah's 20-year Anniversary 6 DVD collection. Sarah bought it for herself in Richmond. Before all was said and done, we'd watched every disc in its entirety and cried through most of them. All these touching, life-changing moments. I hardly ever catch Oprah's show anymore, but that woman puts her money where her mouth is. She is a very generous philanthropist. Generosity (of resources and spirit) is the characteristic that I prize most in anyone, and it's easy to see that she has it in spades. Just watching her good deeds made me want to step up and be a better person, do more with what I've got, etc.

Now I'm back at my little apartment getting reacquainted with my things, gearing up to go back to work (and back to the gym), and putting away all my new wares. So far 2006 has been perfect. Good things are in store!

big changes ahead...

this is the first day of the rest of my life.

And Good Riddance...

I have never been so pleased to see the end of a year arrive. 2006 can only be better. 2005, I hardly knew ye... and so what?

So much for not having much time to blog...

Sarah got off after half a day yesterday so she came downtown to my job to have lunch with me. Then, after some gentle cajoling on my part, she spent the next 2.5 hours sitting in my cube, just hanging out, waiting until I could leave so she could give me a ride home. Shortly after she dropped me off at my place, Catherine arrived. we amused ourselves with anecdotes and stories, then headed out to dinner at the Rocky Run Cafe. Before heading back to my apartment, we picked up marshmallows for cocoa from the neighborhood grocery store in Charles Village.

Once back at home, C and I got into our pajamas and exchanged presents. She got me a book I'd been eyeing at the used book store in Boston the last time I was there, but hadn't purchased, and also two framed reprints of A. Aubrey Bodine photos (Baltimore Pictorialist). I gave her a green and brown striped square shaped bowl that reads (on the inside bottom) "if it ain't chocolate it ain't breakfast" and a complimentary square shaped plate that says "promise me anything, but give me chocolate." I also gave her two chocolate mint scented candles and a fun pair of flowery trouser socks.

My sister and mom and Jim were in Hampden for the Christmas Lights Extravaganza, and after they grabbed dinner at Cafe Hon, Caryl was set to come to my place. Once she arrived we made decadent latte mugs full of hot chocolate with whipped cream (whipped cream and marshmallows in Caryl's case) and settled in to watch "Elf," which we'd all seen before but found charming.

Since Catherine had to get going by about 8:45 this morning, I got up when she did and started on breakfast (turkey bacon, oven toast, eggs, and mango sauce on the side). Now Caryl and I are just bumming around slowly easing into the day...

Holiday

Today is the last day, for the next 8 business days, that I will report to work. I've moved some mountains to get my assignments to a point of completion (or at least reasonable progress) before the new year. I've given cards to coworkers, arranged a small lunch for the subset of work people with whom I'm reasonably close, and pretty much have emptied the kitchenette fridge of anything of mine that could possibly spoil while I'm away from the office.

So I'll find some more loose ends to tie up, but mostly I'll wander from cube to cube, talking to cronies, listen to each of the 8 CDs I'm taking in, some of them Christmas-related, some not. And while I'm editing the Chess strategies manual, I'll listen to the 80s Broadway "Chess," which of course features some Russians and an American and all this drama about defecting and being "nobody's child." The story wouldn't work now in this post-Cold War era, but some of the songs are just stellar.

And then tonight both Catchka and my sister Caryl are coming over. For the next few days, I'll do last minute shopping for my mom and Sarah's parents, whom I expect to see over the break, and drink hot chocolate, and watch silly movies, and make merry, and all that jazz.

I'm sure that between being out of pocket myself and the fact that most of you will be busy yourselves, that activity on this blog will be limited. I hope your days are merry and bright, whatever days you do or do not commemorate.

We'll resume this discourse full-force in 2006!

The Metaphoric Vehicle Makes All Stops

Tonight was the final Voice in Modern Fiction class. Well, it was the optional additional week. More than half of us didn't bother to show, but for those of us who did, it was rewarding. Lovely red wine, eggnog & bourbon, a delectable cheese with a very nutty taste that complimented the wine nicely.

My professor commented favourably upon my last iteration of the story I'd been working on over the course of the semester. Reading over his comments on the hard copy once I got home was satisfying, to say the least. I managed to make the narrative engaging, at last. It was challenging--the most vulnerable I've had to be, where my writing is concerned, in a long time. I felt outclassed by the other students, who are all fiction concentration (whereas I'm a poetry concentration)--I likened it to being a boxer whose dominant hand has been taped and wrapped--forced to use the least comfortable "paw" until she's able to do so fluidly and gracefully.

I checked my grade report online today. The instructor has yet to submit, but my poetry professor has weighed in. I got an A. We'll see if I continue on my straight-A-streak.

I'm off classes until January 25th, on which date I will begin my last semester before Thesis. Fall of 2006 here I come.

A prospective client (freelance editing business client) tried to issue me an ultimatum this morning, so I told him to take his manuscript elsewhere. Now he's all "I'm willing to work on your schedule." I wasn't trying to play games or be coy. I wanted him to do what he needed to do to get his editorial needs met. Seems that he was just bluffing.

Object lesson: The position of detachment (or lack of investment) is the position of power. Obviously I already knew this, but I'm still pleasantly surprised when it rings true, and I'm the one in the position of power, of course...

I finally watched the Roman Polanski psychological thriller "Repulsion" that Mr. Arthouse Cinema lent to me last week. I wonder what point the director was making about female madness and sexuality (and the repression, thereof).

This past weekend I went to the Holiday Party of my coworker and her husband. They have a lovely home in North Baltimore County. A few other people from work came and of course it was a matter of minutes before we all started talking about the office. Some people don't want to talk about work outside of the job, but I have to say, it's comforting to me to be able to kvetch with others who feel my pain.

I think my cell phone is on the fritz. If it's idle for too long, it turns itself off. Now that it's my only phone, this is actually a big problem...

Wanna Split a Cab?

The temperature had dropped by the time I left the salon. I knew there was no way I'd be willing to wait for the bus, so I stopped off at the ATM, withdrawing a 20 for cab fare. I planted myself on what is arguably the best corner in Baltimore city to get a taxi. While I waited, shivering a bit, I noticed a gentleman that I assumed was waiting for the MTA (this auspicious corner is also a bus stop). I quickly sized him up as being attractive. Of course he was smoking (I always, much to my chagrin, find a nice-looking man with a cigarette to be even more attractive). At one point we made eye contact, and he started talking. He really needed the next cab he said.

"Oh, you're waiting for a cab, too?" (I'd never had competition for a cab on this corner, and by rights, he was there first).

He asked me where I was going and it turns out that he was heading in the same direction, so he asked "Wanna split a cab?"

I indicated that I did, so he got a little more chatty. I learned the better part of his life story. He really really needed to make it to the construction site where he worked to pick up his check, esp. since he's quitting that crew to work elsewhere. He really needed to deposit the check, he said more than once.
He'd been in Europe for the last five years, working as a chef.

"Were you a bohemian artist type?"
"There's nothing bohemian about me; I like expensive things too much...I mean I'm not saying I'm a capitalist or anything, it's not all about money, but I don't mind money."
"So you're a capitalist," I said.
"Not really. I can't be bought."
"I'm a capitalist," I told him.

He asked where I was from and when I answered that I was born in Washington, DC he replied "You didn't make it too fah."

"And you're from Boston," I said.
"Oh, you guessed."

Okay, gentle reader, so here is where I tell you that a couple of things were obvious to me in this moment:

He smelled of alcohol (he said he'd already had a few drinks, but before he mentioned it, I smelled the evidence) and he was not the kind of man with whom a woman should make any sort of emotional entanglement. You don't want to hitch your wagon to his star, believe me.

But he is incredibly charming and personable, and the accent... well, if you're like me, you've got a thing for the boston accent. It slays me! And it was also abundantly clear to me that he'd probably broken a lot of promises and a lot of hearts in his time.

Finally, an unoccupied cab happened by and we both hopped in.

"So, how are we going to work out the fare? I never done this before, I just always see people in movies spllitting cabs." I told him that since my apartment was just a few blocks over from his stop that he should pay 3/4 of whatever the fare would be when he got out and I would take care of the rest.

He gave me a five.

"I'm Matthew," he told me, extending his hand.
"Kate."

We were soon at 33rd and Charles. I opened the door and got out first so he wouldn't have to open the door on his side into oncoming traffic.

"Well, see you later Kelly."
"Kate."
"Right, Kate."

Thaw

I was very concerned about the ice/wintry mix blitz that was forecasted for yesterday. Thank God the temperature stayed above freezing, because while there were slick spots here and there, it was nothing like it could have been. The sleet ultimately turned to rain, which did a nice job of melting the thin veneer of frost.
This morning it is a balmy 44 degrees which means we are in the clear for the foreseeable future. All in all, a non-event.

My poetry group was supposed to meet last night, but the threat of bad weather and the busy-ness of the season led us to the conclusion that we should cancel it for this month. One of the members, Cheryl, and I still met up for dinner, though. The proximity of the One World Cafe, and the fact that C is a vegetarian made it the obvious choice.

I don't have a ton of money for presents this year, but I did make Cheryl a "Writing Poetry" mix as a gift. I bought and downloaded some stuff by the Flaming Lips, the Orange Peels,and Rachel Yamagata to include with a lot of Beth Orton (Cheryl has seen her live, so that was cool. I didn't know if she'd be familiar with her or not) thrown in. Bjork, the Be Good Tanyas, Alison Krauss and Union Station, and Karrin Allyson rounded things out. By and large, it's a very contemplative compilation--perfect for writing. Try as I might for another "vibe" my mixes tend to always be that way. Slow, a little melancholy.

Back home by about quarter till 9, I started and finished Adam Rapp's very short, but on point piece, Nocturne.
We are discussing it next week in the final (optional additional) Voice in Modern Fiction class. There promises to be a great variety of spirits and libations, which is why I'm psyched to attend an extra week of class. I can discuss literature a whole lot better after a few drinks.

So it seems that my [middle] sister, Crystal, is talking to me again. She says that she was never not talking to me. Funny how that period of silence (including not returning calls I made to her, Instant Messages I sent her while she was online,and e-mails, by and large) followed a conversation we had about two weeks ago in which we disagreed, fervently, about the family dynamic in our house during our growing up years.

It is not uncommon for siblings to have varying perceptions about the experience of growing up in the same house, I know, but it bears mentioning that my middle sib and I are 10 years apart, so that further extends the disconnect and adds texture and nuance to the situation. Then again, my youngest sister and I are 12 years apart, and she and I see things very similarly...

In any case, Crystal and my mother share the Revisionist Historian gene. They both need to minimize and undermine the violence and abuse that was so prevalent in our house because they perceive it to be disloyal...or something...to acknowledge what our father was capable of. But, more than that, I don't think either of them can bear to perceive the situation for what it was, because of what it would suggest about them to themselves.

Or maybe I am just arrogant. Who's to say that my perception is the absolutely correct one?

Essentially, we've called a truce (I never saw our argument as anything but an airing of views, not a relationship deal-breaker, anyway). She simply wants to avoid certain topics. I see it this way. She's 22. And when I was 22 I couldn't imagine ever feeling any differently about anything than I did then. My opinions were fixed and solid and had been reached through critical reasoning and extensive analysis. I had things figured out and was simply waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.

As the eldest child of a fragmented family the greatest service I can provide for my sisters is to be an anchor for them. To be the one waiting at the end when they come out on the other side of their difficulties, their folly, their madness.

And I'm strong enough to have one or both of them ignore me in anger for a time if it comes to that, because I want so much to be the one who always tells them the truth, even if it cuts them to the quick at first. I'm not just speaking about the truth about our family, according to me.

Sometimes my sisters, being 20 and 22, make awful choices--do things I wish they wouldn't, and I want to save them from humiliation, from pain, from getting taken in by sheisters. I beg them to listen to me because I know, because I've made all those errors myself. I want to tell them that from 32 some things that you do in your 20s will still haunt you. Oh, but at their ages, and long beyond, I'm afraid, I was hellbent on having my own way, and I've come out all right.

So I'm working on trusting God with their lives,knowing that he cares for them so much more than I do, loves them more violently than I ever could.

I've just returned from my last poetry workshop of the semester. As these things usually are, it was anticlimactic. A few people brought foodstuffs (the brie was tremendous), but other than the crackers, cheese, cupcakes, and diet Coke, it was like any other class. We each (12 of us) had our final offerings discussed and dissected. My "The Hapless Spinster" piece was a big hit. It was an experiment in writing, explicitly, in a voice other than my own. All in all, one absentminded professor aside, not too bad. I even managed to eek out a poem about raccoons for crap's sake, how bad could it have been?

this was inevitable...this was inevitable...this was inevitable...

It's so cold outside I felt like I might be about to lose my mind as I stood there waiting for the bus. And when it did arrive, insult to injury, gentle reader! I board, getting ready to swipe my day pass, when the bastard driver pulls forward all kamikaze-like, and I end up flat on my back with my granny boots in the air. I couldn't even front, I was like "EXCUSE ME!"

Still listening to Beth Orton. I finally moved away from "Central Reservation," and am now on the "Daybreaker" album, specifically the song "Paris Train." The haunting refrains "sometimes...sometimes...this was inevitable...this was inevitable" reverberating through the caverns of my ears.

Some things won't be redeemed. Not that they cannot be, but they won't be, not to our satisfaction, anyway. As a Christian, I believe that God can make all things new, that ultimately, he always will... but in terms of the practical applications of redemption in the here and now, well, sometimes (often) we don't get back lost opportunities and relationships, we can't take back the mistakes... I don't intend to be a downer, but I've been pondering this idea for a few days now. In any case, it seems fitting to me that some things are irretrievably lost if they are lost at all. It underscores the significance of them.

Thanks to Paste Music, I have discovered Beth Orton and a host of other appealing musicians. In the next few weeks, I'll be purchasing from iTunes quite a bit... but, thanks to BMG which is still occasionally helpful, I got three Orton CDs for a very reasonable price.

Breakfast this morning is an unhealthy cherry turover with unsweetened tea. I was out on Friday and to my surprise, there isn't much in the way of work crowding my desk. I'm going to take advantage of the small pile and get some much-needed momentum.

Catherine and me at her cousin's wedding

Prickly!

Nothing like waiting more than half an hour for a connection bus in freezing temperatures. Makes one suscpetible to being in a crap mood. I'll admit it. Sometimes I am downright prickly. This is one of those times.

I am bummed, in addition, because I will be doing homework tonight instead of attending the office party--and I'm finaly in a place where I truly and genuinely like everyone with whom I work closely. They're fun and the closest I've come to that tight knit group scenario in years. It just seems categorically wrong that I won't be there. But I have to do what I must. Grad school is my priority and that should be reflected in all the choices that I make.

So, blogging community, I have a challenge for you. I have decided that I really want to meet the guy for me in 2006. Help me out. I am willing to be set up. So there. I've said it.

Also:

Mackenzie Astin, who continues to frequent the One World, is grasping at straws. He is clearly disenfranchised. After the movie last night C and I went there (I hadn't eaten; I ordered a grilled tomato and cheese and a hot chocolate), and there he was. yet again. He's struck up an apparent flirtation with one of the waitresses. He seems, by turn, to amuse her and annoy her.

On this particular sighting his father, John Astin, came in and joined him. They seem to have a sweet relationship. But Mack was like a little boy in some ways. He was wearing his desperation like a sweater.

It's clear to me whenever I see him that he feels like he's supposed to know me, but can't quite figure out how. I, along with Sarah and another friend of mine (also named Sarah) had a very pleasant encounter with him at the One World about a month ago...

What is up with Keira Knightley's Mouth,Anyway?

C and I drove through pleasantly snowy conditions to the Charles yesterday evening, arriving at about quarter till 7 for the showing of Pride and Prejudice. Having so recently read the book,the plot was fresh in my mind, and it was readily apparent what was condensed, what was omitted, etc. Not yet having seen the version (BBC) that made Colin Firth famous, I have to say that I appreciated this one very much. C is going to lend me the miniseries version on Wednesday. Perhaps I will have a clear favourite after I've viewed that one. In any case, I thought that the casting of Jane in this fresh, more compact depiction was on point. Keira Knightley did a credible job, for the most part, but I did wonder about the sporadic giggling outbursts, and also she has a weird mouth. Other than that, I wasn't terribly bothered by her performance.

Now then. On other points. The best way to mitigate an impractical crush is to tell yourself that the object has a significant other whom you have met and very much like, even if this is not the case.

As is usually the case on Sunday evenings, I had trouble falling asleep last night. To ensure that I had something to do other than laying in the dark stressing myself out thinking about how restless I was, I decided to watch Mr. Arthouse Cinema's latest offering, City of Lost Children. It was surreal, weird, fun, and touching. I also finished McCauley's True Enough. The film ended at about 1:40 a.m., but I was still wide awake. I turned out the lights and tossed and turned for at least another hour.

I did begin work on the final version of my short story for the Modern Fiction class yesterday evening, but it's a long way from being finished. Have decided not to go to the office party this Thursday night. Need the time to revise poems, final assignments, etc. I've had a coworker tell me that he's not sure he'll go now since tales of my inebriated escapades from last year are why he was so psyched to attend this year. :) Fortunately, another coworker is throwing a party that some of us can attend, so I hope that one will be excellent (in that the people I'd most want to spend time with will choose to attend).

Had an excellent workout yesterday and was looking forward to going again tonight but just remembered that I have an engagement. Am going to see the Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice with a fellow Janeophile at the Charles.

Got together with E last night. Did an art gallery "walk" in Fells Point. We only did two of the spots on the tour (free wine, sangria, and heavy hors d'oeuvres) then headed over to Little Italy for Fried Calamari.

Mr. Arthouse Cinema (my young coworker) gave me another film assignment. I'll try to watch that tomorrow once I'm back at home. I'm hanging out with Sarah and a friend of hers today. I am also determined to revise poems for my portfolio tomorrow, which means I'll have to tear myself away from this.

More substantive posts coming, I promise...

I've done no Christmas shopping of any kind...

Not that I don't plan on it, mind you, because I do... plan on it. Sometime around December 15th. The payment/distribution of my income toward bills won't really allow me to start much before then most years. The difference this year is that most of my friends and family are getting gift cards from me. So there won't be any kamikaze trips to the mall that are rife with pushing, shoving morons indiscriminantly grabbing up anything in a shrinkwrapped basket. I can't bear it. And for those for whom I am not getting gift cards, I really want to support local shops in Hampden, Fells Point, and the East quadrant of the Harbor area near my job by finding suitable treasures in those places.

December promises to be frenetic. I have a poetry portfolio to put together and a final short story to write before I can bid this semester a fond adieu. So somewhere between forays to the cinema, holiday parties (not Christmas parties mind you. Everyone throws "holiday parties" now. I would be so impressed if anyone had the moxie to be like "I'm having a Christmas party. Wanna come?"), and visits with friends I have to get cracking. Those things are both due week after next. Maybe tonight after this function I'm attending (free wine) I can do some late night writing.

I told you he would get even more annoying...