Atlas Shrugged

"Contradictions do not exist. Whenever you think you are facing a contradiction, check your premises; one of them is wrong." --Ayn Rand

I am a little more than halfway through the abridged, CD version of this modern classic, and I find that I am enjoying the 50s-ness of it. I understand that the narrative itself does not take place in the 50s, per se, but the overarching tone of it--philosophically, socially, and politically--places it squarely in that era. It is a subversive (at the time) response to the external idealism of the period. It's a very masculine novel, animus-driven, and I am impressed that there is but one woman smack dab in the middle of all this epic male drama. Power players of big business, industry, and intellectual reason. I would not say that I espouse Rand's Objectivist philosophies, in toto, but I understand what she was getting at. I like the pop and snap of it. The "don't fuck with me, fellas" paradigm of it. The moralizing and the trailblazing, and finally, the fact that we cannot escape who we are at the core. Maybe I'll tackle The Fountainhead next.

The news on other fronts is that it's time for me to complete my Thesis Planning Form. I've already started strategizing--now I just have to type up a rationale for my approach and some notes on the rounds of revisions I've made, etc. Fortunately, as one whose concentration is Poetry, I have the liberty of including one essay in with my collection of poems, and I wrote one about a year ago that I believe would be perfect. I am looking to sumbit this planning form within a week.

I have also written a draft article for publication consideration. More on these things as they develop.

just one corner of the office, unfinished

facade of my building

bedroom, another angle

the bedroom, minima

my china cabinet, from afar...

the living room, in shadow...

what will be the bar area, notice the cocktail paraphanelia...

the kitchen, with some stuff on the counter that normally wouldn't be there.

the dining room

Train whistles, the intermittent chugging along the tracks, punctuate my sleep in this apartment--and it is comforting and poetic. Very literary rest.

I emerged from a codeine fever this morning and was faced with the immediate challenge of how to shower without being seen by the workman on the roof across the way from the bathroom window. I have two layers of sheer curtains on the window, but during the day you can still get an eyeful--if there is an eyeful to be had. In any case, I was forced to be creative. I'll spare you the mundane details, but suffice it to say, I believe I was successful.

Expecting E to come over at about 11 (and it being roughly 9:30), I set out to get a cup of coffee from 7-11, then came back here to clean the bathroom, sweep, and mop the kitchen floor, and to have a bit of instant oatmeal. Now I've done all that, including the dusting and the plumping of sofa cushions. I've just had to reheat my coffee in a sauce pan (it's like camping in the city) because a microwave is low on my list of household priorities (in terms of the order in which I need things and what I can afford)...

I don't believe in soul mates anymore. I realize that some of you may have abandoned the notion of them some time ago, if, indeed, you ever held the premise as a possibility. Perhaps you think it woefully naive of me to have ever considered it, as I now do.

To be fair to myself, I should maybe say that what I am calling "soul mates" now was what I always thought of as God's will. The way I interpreted God's will is that there is one person out there for me, that He, in His infinite wisdom, would lead me to at the right time, just in the nick of time. And I still think that. But the idea that there is only one person who could make me happy, who will, as a by-product of fate or destiny, or whatever, "find" me, well that's the hoakey, vain thing I've given up. I will end up with one man. But there is no particular one man who is meant for me, exclusively. In terms of probability, there are any number of men with whom I might be happy, compatible, and have a successful marriage. And giving up such an antiquated philosophy is liberating.

How many men have I fallen for, to various degrees, believing that this one was the one? The number is embarrassing. How could I have felt that way about so many people? Blame it on my youth or my inexperience. In any case, the soul mates test fails. And the idea of meeting my soul mate has led me to hang on, hoping against hope, long after wisdom dictated that I should move on--that it just wasn't going to happen.

I've also met a number of men that I find attractive for one reason or another, lately, and that has led me to understand that it's not about the whole package (that being the feeling of being twins separated at birth, that "he's just like me" feeling). It's about meeting someone at a time that's mutually convenient when you're each sexually and emotionally attracted to the other, and you have similar enough goals, or you're both equally confused about who you are, and you're both game for the adventure of syncing your lives up.

It's not that I don't think God orchestrates events in our lives, but that orchestration is the stuff of the ordinary. And meeting someone that I could potentially marry is also based on who I am and what I'm doing, and whether or not I want it and whether or not the man in question also wants it--and wants it at the same time that I do.

I realized a week ago that my paradigm has shifted, that the burden of watching and waiting for a mythic soul mate has lifted, and it's made me a lot more receptive to life in general.

I went back to the patient clinic tonight. They got an X-Ray of my lungs, which don't show signs of distress or pneumonia (which is good); there was an attempt to get bloodwork done, but my veins were uncooperative, so they wanted to take it frm my hand, but I am very traumatized when I have to get blood drawn, so I asked if we could just deal with the X-Ray and forego the stick. So now my arm is bruised from the failed attempt. Funny. My veins aren't usually incognito (the process stresses me out, nevertheless).

In any case, I have a daytime cough med and a nighttime one (with codeine, yay!). I already feel better for having made the tough decision to skip my last dc trip tonight (just too sick and I did not want to be away from home till midnight). Sarah drove me to my prof's apartment to leave the portfolio for her (she's Balto based), so at least that was taken care of.

Now I'm about to take my sleep-inducing cough syrup and I'm going to let myself drift off. I'm calling in tomorrow and sleeping till I don't feel like doing it anymore. That's mostly what I need anyway.

Walking Pneumonia

A friend of mine has had this recently. Her symptoms sounded a lot like mine. Sarah, in addition to being my accountant, my editor, my consiglieri, etc., is also my lay physician (her grandfather was a doctor and she absorbed a lot of knowledge from him), and she told me she thinks that's what I have. So I did what any post Internet Revolution person would do. I looked it up online. And that's it. I have walking pneumonia. Of course being given to fits of illogical conjecture (I'm a hypocondriach), I decided, for like a split second, that I had bird flu.

The Big Push

This is the me I know and love...The arrival of those shelves was obviously the motivation I needed to really establish the apartment. I've been unpacking in installments (I usually do everything all in one day--the same day that I move) because I didn't want to kill myself this time around, but obviously not being able to unpack some things has been a sticking point. Once I got the shelves in place in the cabinet, I was very excited to put all my finest bowls, glass ware, and ceramic pitchers on display. Sadly, one of my favourite items broke during the move--I discovered it today when I withdrew it from its newspaper wrapping to set it in the cabinet.

One thing seriously leads to another, because after I got everything situated there, I decided to hang all of my framed art/wall decorations. after doing that, the place started to take more shape, and the strewn boxes were ruining the visual, so I collapsed them and took them down to the garbage room, then I swept the wood floors, and neatly arranged the boxes that still cannot be unpacked, out of sight in one of my many closets. And speaking of closets, I freed one up for my sister's use when she arrives later this month. I purged some old magazines, neatly arranged the ones that are current on the coffee table, I put away all my linen, unpacked office stuff, Finished the paper, made dinner, lunch for tomorrow, and rescued some potatoes that were on the verge of sprouting (parboiled then roasted them), talked to Sarah on the phone, switched from my purse to my backpack for tomorrow (since it's a class day). I also managed to find an acceptable dowel replacement for the missing one for the bookshelf in the kitchen that is currently doing duty as a storage option for my dry goods... now that I have full use of those shelves, my stuff isn't all cattywampus.

Seems like it all comes down to shelves...

My poetry group met for the first time in about 5 months last night, and I have to say, it was good to see those women. I was able to attend because yesterday was such a light day at work (I had almost nothing to do)that I was able to really work on my paper during the day. By the time I left the office for home, most of it had been written.

Today is the day of the great shelf exchange. The delivery is between 1:30 and 4:30, so I'm leaving the office at noon (or thereabout) and will work from home the rest of the day. I am so excited. This means about 3 or 4 boxes that have been lingering can finally be unpacked. Speaking of boxes, I really need to break some down and throw them away. In the corner of my office, I have a stack of empty ones to deal with.

I continue to feel run down and my cough is back. Really back. I just took a dose of some homeopathic, over the counter medicine that's meant to treat flu symptoms. I'm hoping that the aches I'm experiencing, which are fluesque, will go away. I think I have a virus of some sort.

Well, outside of what I had planned for myself this summer, my sister will be with me again. I wasn't looking to do the Hotel Krupnik thing again. But, I also wouldn't deny my sister the ability to work here at the company where she can make a decent wage while living with me in relative peace (as opposed to the constant state of stress she's in when cohabitating with my mom). But I'm also worried about having my vision for my space be usurped by someone else's things, someone else's moods and motivations,and I'm feeling selfish. I'm feeling like I just finally got all the space I want, and that now it's not going to be for me. I just feel like I'm being asked, on some level, to justify having the space when people start spouting off ways that they can help me use it. Like my mom, in jest, says that she'll come stay with me for two weeks. Um, right. I didn't get a big apartment so that I could have guests and roommates. I got a big apartment, because I, as an unattached, clutter-free person, do not want to sacrifice the peace of mind that living alone brings me until I absolutely have to.

And I know that a lot of people frown on this idea, but I am more and more convinced that maintaining a separate residence even after marriage is a tremendous idea.

Victoria and I met up at about 9:20 and headed over to GiGi for an uncomplicated but delicious breakfast. We came back to my place afterward and talked for a couple of hours. The more of my friends see the apartment the more real it is to me. Seeing it through her eyes, I was struck again by how tremendous it really is.

I managed to revise about 10 poems in a single stretch last night. There are two that I'm not sure how to approach. I'm not sure they are worth the effort. Either way, I need to figure this out because Sunday I have to start my paper. And that's that.

I just got back from a walk (another plus of moving back to Mt. Vernon is that it's a great walking neighborhood!)on which I ran into Editor Boy, who, as always, managed to work his gf into the conversation. It's somewhat comical to me that he always references her somehow. I don't think he's doing it in that way that men sometimes do when they're talking to a woman with whom they are attempting to establish a boundary. In his case it's a simple matter of the fact that he likes providing background information. For example, if you say to him "Editor Boy, I like that mug." He'll reply "Thank you. I got this in Montreal two weeks after I met my girlfriend."

On other fronts, I woke up feeling off. I think my little "thing" from a few weeks ago is working on a sequel. Not the same thing, exactly... in any event, I think I'm coming down with something. Drat!

I really respect Lt. Governor, Michael Steele, and hope that he will get the nomination for Republican Senate Candidate for the state of MD. Sadly, Black Republicans are still viewed as anomalies at best, and sell-outs at worst. I really sat up and took notice of this man during the Republican National Convention in 2004 when he said that the Democratic Party had essentially put black America in a box by assuming its vote and by subtly and not so subtly indicating that voting Democrat is the only option for any thoughtful, politically-aware African American (Yes, I use "black" and "African American" interchangably).

In an interview with The Examiner (Baltimore Edition), he stressed his belief "in the power of the individual over government" and went on to say some very judicious, yet unapologetic things about race, about the President, and his own record, and what he wants to achieve. He just always comes across [to me] as being a reasonable, pragmatic person, and I admire him for it.

I also have a tremendous amount of respect for Kweisi Mfume and what he has accomplished in his life and in the city of Baltimore in particular, but I agree with Steele when he says that there is more than one black "voice" for the black community to hearken to. He's diversified the political strata in a Democratic state in a Democratic city. Isn't this the American Dream, at least in part, that you have the unalienable right to choose based on something other than past precedent and the status quo?

I was so cold last night that I put another comforter on my bed--the heavy duty flannel one and I plugged in the heating pad. I was "tip of the nose" cold (if the tip of my nose is cold, that means I am really cold... cannot get warm cold).

I'm working from home as is usual on a Thursday. I'm so glad that the weekly trek to DC is coming to a close. Just today and next week and that's it. Now that Devika has accepted a job, we no longer have the luxury of meeting, so that makes the trip feel less worth it to me right there. Ah well. I suspected that the week before last would be our last visit, so I am at least prepared, albeit a little sad.

It's almost the weekend. Hope everyone has some exciting plans. As for me, I'm seeing Victoria and maybe doing some more unpacking... and oh yeah, revising my poetry portfolio and starting the final paper for class.

Since 1998 I have been of the mind that it's going to be me and Baltimore forever... even when I left in 1999 I understood that I would be back as soon as I finished my business in the suburbs of Washington, DC (which I categorically hated). In 2002 I did return and I thought to myself "Okay, that's it; I'm home now and I'm not leaving ever again." It was no struggle to feel and express fierce loyalty to this city, to be protective of it when haters dissed it, which was and is fairly often.

But lately, more and more, I've been coming to a conclusion. That I mind less and less the idea of leaving. Having a class in DC this semester has opened me up to that city in a way that I have never been before (even though I was born there). I'm not saying that's where I want to move, but not hating it anymore is huge. When I worked in the District in 1999, I loathed the visceral impression it gave me, and out of love for Baltimore, I felt that it was my duty to despise it. This may seem extreme given that we are only talking about geographic locations, but perhaps it's understandable when put in the context of emotional affiliations.

In any case, I've relaxed the Vulcan Death Grip I have had on Charm City (or, it has relaxed its Vulcan Death Grip on me)for 8 years now. This may be indicative of a certain level of maturity in me, or perhaps it's foreshadowing of an enventual departure. In any case, I'm staying put for at least a year. I just signed a lease.

Resolution

After talking to several people on the phone this morning, I finally got the one who could help me and she did so quickly and decisively. My bank even refunded the overdraft fees (as opposed to insisting that the vendor take care of it, which, as the institution informed me, it was well within its rights to do), which put my account back in the black.

I took the opportunity to e-mail the Moving Company's headquarters last night about the trouble I had,and took the time to mention that I had not been completely satisfied with the amount of time it took the movers to complete the job. I tried to be judicious in my e-mail, but also clear about the nature of my complaint(s).

Because the money stuff has all been taken care of, now there's no action item there, but a representative did respond to let me know that my letter had been forwarded to the appropriate person who can follow up with an investigation into the claim.

This all brings me to a general observation about the nature of customer service at most companies these days. I have been on the receiving end of vendor error many times in my adulthood, and it is a disturbingly consistent trend that it takes a lot of calling, coaxing, and getting downright proactive (above and beyond the call of duty) on your own behalf to even convince the companies that they are at fault. And when they finally fix the issue they act like they are doing you some grand favor.

Take my shelves from the furniture store, for example. Why aren't these people falling all over themselves to get me the correct merchandise? Why is it that I have to arrange to work from home next week to accommodate their delivery schedule? Why won't they break their own delivery "rules" and arrange to bring me the shelves at whatever time works best for me?

Why did the people at Starving Students Movers tell me that they weren't sure if they would refund me the Non Sufficient Funds fees I racked up as a result of their jacked up, completely moronic staff who charged me 993.00 freaking dollars on a move that cost a third of that?! Thankfully, I didn't have to jump through the hoops that that would have entailed.

And what is more, why did my Bank, the few times I've needed them to do this (refund fees they assessed AFTER knowing that a charge was in error) act like they are doing me such a huge favor to remove their gratuitous fees anyway? I hate it when corporations that are supposed to specialize in making one's life easier make it worse.

It's not home until you light a candle and have a hot cup of something...

I am continuing to settle in, getting used to the vastness of the place. I am a little lonely, but only because the apartment feels strange yet. You reach a point with the place you live at which the space itself is you, impossible to separate out--you have so permeated the air with yourself that the rooms and you are indistinguishable. Being around my things helps. I recognize that they are my possessions, but they also seem foreign.

In any case, I know that I've been talking about the move incessantly. I promise, this is not a foray into a series of maudlin posts about how disenfranchised I feel. I'm just trying to get my bearings.

In addition to feeling all emotionally turned around, my bank account is in utter distress because the moving company charged me, errantly, three times. Obviously, this is a mistake, and one that I trust will be rectified... but in the meantime, it has crippled me. At the moment, I am categorically regretting the choice to use movers. In truth, I was regretting it on Saturday. It was no less stressful, really, than begging people to do it. It was just a different kind of stress.

I'm looking forward to the morning when I can call and speak to a representative who can start the process of undoing this snarl.

First Night

Even though I moved on Saturday, last night was my first night at the apartment. I was worried that I would have some trouble sleeping due to the period of adjustment that is often par for the course in a new place. But, some combination of being bone-tired and the fact that this building seems to have far fewer creaking and settling noises than my old apartment, I drifted off with ease.

I called the furniture store and have determined that I did, indeed, receive the wrong shelves. They'll bring the correct ones out in about a week. Another phone call to my former leasing office helped me to determine that there is no reason I should not get the full amount of my security deposit back (in about a month), so that's all a relief.

It's nice to be back in the office, it's even better that the day is nearly over.

Only Minor Glitches

After all is said and done, the move was a success. The movers moved verly slowly, by my estimation, at the loading site. They were being very careful with my things, which I appreciated, but I really needed them to stay within the 4-hour window (money concerns), so I asked them to step it up at the unloading site and to take less care if necessary. It was clear that I didn't mean for them to throw my things or drop them, but to just be less ginger. They got it done, only going over by about 15 minutes, which isn't too bad. All in all, the move still cost more than I was expecting, so Sarah graciously loaned me money to give to the Cable man when he showed up to hook up my Internet and digital cable connections.

Here's what's been done so far:

Living room set up
Books unpacked and placed on the book shelf
One painting hung in the entry way
Bed set up
Clothes hung up
Dining room table and chairs assembled

The biggest snafu to date:

Upon opening up the shelves for my new china cabinet, I discovered that the furniture store sent the wrong ones. I'll have to call them tomorrow morning to arrange to get the correct pieces. About 3 or 4 boxes can't be fully unpacked until that has been rectified.

My mom and Jim came over (and brought dinner with them) this afternoon. I am so glad that I've had guests already. Makes the place feel more lived in. Now I just need to find my DVD remote...

A Groovy Kind of Love(Nostalgia)...

I woke up for the last time in my apartment on the fringe of Roland Park and began the day at the One World for the House Omelette (spinach, cheese, tomato, and sprouts) with home fries and multigrain toast and vanilla almond coffee. Then I came home to start the rigors of last minute packing, arranging, and taking down.

I wrestled with my full size mattress and box spring to get them standing against the wall; I collapsed the iron frame, then I gathered up some stuff that will have to, based on awkwardness--the kind of stuff that you have to put in paper or plastic bags--be taken over in Sarah's car either tonight or tomorrow morning. I began sweeping and dusting; I boxed up my printer; I remembered the last of the vanilla vodka; I opened up a Black Cherry Vanilla Diet Coke and made a makeshift cocktail (emptied the bottle so I could throw it out at last); I had a long talk with my mother which both charmed me and frustrated me--but it was endearing, her usual shennanigans and idiosynchracies. Then I decided to empty the trash and to begin cleaning the bathroom and kitchen again. A much lighter round than I did a couple of days ago, but I started thinking about my security deposit (not much, but it will help) and how I don't want to give these people any reason not to give it back to me in full. All this while listening to N*E*R*D in my iTunes library which quickly became Nat King Cole--and soon I was packing to The Christmas Song ("Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire") while the spring breeze flapped and snapped through my open windows. The movers called to confirm; I moved money from savings to my checking account; I clicked on Phil Collins's Greatest Hits. A Groovy Kind Of Love always makes me think of being 14, of Jonathan Mcklveen, how how he climbed my balcony that one day. Just to talk to me.

Preview of things to come

I woke up at about 6:30 to get ready to head over to the new place for the walk through with the Property Manager and to wait for the furniture delivery.

How to describe the interaction with the PM... well, she was obviously on the defensive from the jump, which set the tone for the process. To her credit, she got herself (or someone) in there and hustled earlier this week. Several of the big issues were already taken care of. When I noted that upon my arrival, it instantly made me feel better about everything. She showed up about 2 and a half hours earlier than I was expecting her, which was fine since I was there and just waiting around. She had a contractor in tow, which was also nice because I had someone other than her there to see certain things I pointed out and to validate that these things, are indeed problems. But man, it's clear that my pointing out issues and my attention to detail has alienated her. There you have it; I'm not even in the apartment fully and my arch nemesis is the only person who can really help me with anything. Great.

I spent the better part of the morning cleaning the bathroom, hanging the shower curtain, and scrubbing the kitchen. The place already looks and feels better.

The furniture came at the earlier end of the time window I'd been given, and the delivery men got my new overstuffed chair, china cabinet, end table, and dining furniture (which has to be assembled) in the elevator without a problem. Not only was it a relief to have that leg of the process taken care of so smoothly and quickly, but it's a pretty good indication of the fact that none of my other furniture will have any problem fitting into the elevator, so the movers on Saturday should be able to execute the transference of my stuff with relative ease.

Finally, I was planning to have a friend come over and help me rehang one of the curtain panels (I missed a loop on Saturday), but the contractor, while he was there with the ladder, just took care of it for me so I didn't have to trouble my friend and I was able to get out of there sooner than I had hoped.

I checked out a nearby cafe I had read about in Baltimore Magazine a few weeks ago; It's going to be my new place. I simply adored it. I had a ham and apple sandwich that was so delicious it made me want to sing, along with a french vanilla coffee. Nice.

It's been a long time since I've waxed poetic about my classes; the best thing about this one particular prof is that he can discuss a book like you've never heard anyone discuss a book. Pick a theme, pick a line of reasoning, random interpretation, page number. He can talk from any point in the narrative.

The Money Tree is Flowering...

that would be the jade plant in my cubicle. My own money scenario is touch and go. Whatever; I'm guessing it will all be okay. It all has to be. Not that I have a mystical wing-and-a-prayer approach to money; I know it's either there or not, but what I'm saying is that I've been as responsible as I can be. Hopefully the provisions I've made will be adequate. That's all I'm getting at.

Well, tomorrow begins the onslaught. I may be able to blog a time or two more, but probably not much until Sunday evening (at which time I will give an appropriate recap of the moving experience)... I'm sure I'll need a break from unpacking about then.

X Marks the Spot

In need of cleaning supplies, a shower curtain, and a phone, I went to the catchall paradise we all know as Target, or Tarjay, if you're feeling faux French. Who knew cleaners could add up to 86 dollars? okay, to be fair, I got these 2 khaki fabric shower curtain liners (to serve as the curtain; I couldn't find an actual shower curtain that I liked enough), which was 20 dollars (the rod is circular, so I need two to span the circumfrence), and 2 sets of rings. I lucked out with the phone. I got a really cheap one (5 dollars). As it turns out, I need a land line to buzz in guests, so I got the most basic no frills service imaginable. I'm still going to live as though my wireless is my only phone.

Feeling industrious, I've already started cleaning up here. I did the kitchen and bathroom tonight so that all I'll have to do on Sunday is sweep and maybe wipe down a few surfaces or something.

Tomorrow is my last day at work this week. On Thursday I'll lug all my cleaning supplies over to the new place and try to get that in reasonably good shape. I can't believe that by week's end I'll be sleeping in a new place! I'm actually not looking forward to it. The adjustment period is always a little unsettling for me.

I met C for coffee at my beloved One World (just 4 more days of being able to walk right up the block to get to it); she told me anecdotes about the crazy dates she's had lately. I ended up getting a splurge dessert (carrot cake) to go with my black java (I forgot to ask for decaf!).

Fortunately, I had started several loads of laundry (and even got the loads into the dryer) before I had to meet her, so I got the third and fourth rounds started when I got back. I have several thick blankets, bathroom and kitchen rugs, and dishtowels to wash and box up. I hate the thought of taking anything dirty to the new place. It's going to be unavoidable, but I'm doing what I can to have everything all lined up. what's bothersome now are the odds and ends that defy packing categorization. And what is worse, because I thought there would be enough tape, I packed some extra rolls I bought. Now I have no idea in what box they are stored. What I'm trying to avoid is having to take anything over in any separate carloads. I always see having to do that as a sign of poor planning.

Curtains!

All hung; in every room, including the kitchen. My Graduate Christian Fellowship comrade (and his wife) were invaluable. The place looks great. So funny how some sheaths of fabric can make a world of difference. I can actually envision having people over, and my furniture is all going to look great. Now I just need the Property Manager to take care of some things. It's all coming together.

Good Friday

As is usually the case, I was off work yesterday. I try to always arrange to set it apart as a day for contemplating the Cross. Easter, or Resurrection, as some in Evangelical circles have taken to calling it, is a very sombre time for me. I understand the inherent, indisputable joy in the commemoration, but it's a reflective, humbling joy, not an exultant one for me. The joy is no less real than my joy at Christmas... but that is expectant and raucous (which is separate from the despair the commericalized elements of the holiday can produce in me). In any case, yesterday was not one in which I was able to indulge much in the way of holy reflection.

I was at IKEA dropping major bank on curtains for four rooms,including rods and accessories. While I was there I had a look at all of the other stuff I wished I was buying (that I will buy in a month or so)that I also really need, but I tried to keep perspective. The curtains are going to anchor the rooms, give them some added depth, as well as prevent the constant onslaught of the sun while providing some privacy.

Today I have a friend coming to do the requisite drilling and hanging for me. I'm praying that it all goes well. I was told by the property manager that she would put a ladder in the apartment for me to use for this purpose. I have been disheartened by my dealings with her lately and as a result don't really expect her to follow through on verbal agreements--at least not without extra prompting. For instance, none of the things I brought to her attention a week ago (where the apt is concerned) have been addressed. I'm trying to stay positive about it.

After the Great Curtain Escapade, Sarah and I went back to my current apartment and packed up every dish,cup, mug, glass, knife, spoon, fork,and spatula I own. I had someone come and pick up the computer monitor I wanted to give away. As it turned out the CPU is useless, so that went into the garbage a couple of days ago.

What remains to be done now is some linen laundry next week, some cleaning, and some arranging of the boxes so that the movers can get to the furniture with ease. I have a formal walk-through at the new place on Thursday, which I will be showing up to with copies of e-mails and typed up lists of issues. Often,people don't get serious until there's a paper trail. That same day I'm having some furniture delivered,my new dining room table and chairs will be among the items. It really is getting close now. I'll try to post photos of the new space as it takes shape.

It was odd, I have to say,that while running into the bank to make a deposit yesterday afternoon, I saw gordon. He didn't see me, which is obviously for the best. The realization occurred in stages. First, I noticed a car that looked like his, then, the plates confirmed that it was indeed his, then I saw a man--him, I determined, walking toward it to get in. I was across the street from him.

What is odd is that other than the surprise of suddenly seeing someone that I haven't seen in well over a year, I didn't feel undone the way I assumed I might if I ever ran into him. The way I undoubtedly would have felt 6 months ago if this had happened then. I wondered, to myself, what the significance of seeing him was. The answer came to me fairly quickly. It was so I would know that I'm no longer enmeshed. So I would know that I could see him and immediately proceed with my life and my plans as though nothing much had happened, because it isn't anything much to see him. Not now.

Using up all my food...

I am trying to be strategic about working through my food, the perishable stuff especially, this week because on Saturday I will be packing up all my dishes, glasses, the rest of my pots and pans, flatware, etc., and I will not be able to cook or prepare things normally until I get to the other place. The added benefit of doing this is that I'll be able to start relatively fresh in the new apartment with new groceries.

hack, hack...

My cough is much better today! Last night, after a rough time in class (I had to leave twice to regain my composure), I prayed. I simply asked God to please heal me because I could not take it anymore; I couldn't take the sleepless nights and the irritation of it. I slept through the night and when I awakened, I noticed that the beast, though still prowling a bit, is tamed and about to concede defeat.

Back on Track

I'm leaving soon for DC and I will finally see Devika again after a 2-week interruption of our regularly scheduled program.

Okay, chickadees...

I've made some decisions. I know what my next haircut is going to be,and I found a gym option. The University of Baltimore is walking distance to my new place and I can join up with them at the student rate (I just have to "find" that money from some corner of my bank account). I'm back in the game!

I finished the last of the audio books that I borrowed from the library--Alice McDermott's Child of My Heart--last night in bed. Since my cough has been keeping me awake most nights, I figured I should redeem the time. The only problem with listening to books in bed is that after the story ends I continue to dream in the narrator's voice, so when I wake up I have this "extra" narrative from where my brain continued the story and I have to work hard to remember what was really in the book and what wasn't. I'm about to start Safran Foer's Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. I completed The Bronte Project on Monday night; it was a pure delight.

Well, no one has announced that he or she is resigning from the company for the last week and a half. That's practically a streak. Editor boy moved cubicles so that he now sits next to me. I wanted it that way so that we could have the benefit of being able to consult, face-to-face, with relative ease. Even with e-mail and IM I found that one of us was walking down the long stretch to the other's "office" a good bit of the time. He's a good neighbor.

I brought up Christmas stuff from my storage unit in the basement last night. I looked at all the beautiful ornaments that didn't make it out of their boxes this year (no room for the tree because of the livingroom furniture arrangement), and I felt glad thinking about my new huge apartment, how all the glassy, frosted baubles will be on display in December 2006...and it almost made me wish Christmas would hurry up and come, and then I remembered that it has just barely stopped being cold! And I perished the thought. Instead, I welcome the season of crisp salads, gazpacho, flavourful fruits, and cold cocktails (mojitos!).

The End In Sight...

I think I've turned a corner. After a particularly violent coughing episode last night (and several smaller-scale versions during the day yesterday), I think I can determine that this ailment is on the wane.

I've taken a long hard look at money and have made some choices about what I'm buying and what I'm not buying (right now, at least) for the new apartment. Curtains have actually risen to the top of the priority list because the very large windwows in the new space do not have blinds (the management company does not provide them). I get a lot of direct sunlight in the new space and I'll have to be able to temper that somehow. Having to buy curtains right now means that I'll have to wait on some other things, like baker's racks for the kitchen, which means that some of my stuff can't be unpacked, which in turn will make me feel horribly unsettled. I guess this will all come together somehow.

coughing fits...
are the latest development in my illness. I got a doc at a fast medicine clinic to give me a script for my antibiotic of choice (where throat issues are concerned), Amoxicillin, but the discomfort, though manageable, persists. Can't wait to be back at 100%. Honestly, I feel like Peter in the Brady Bunch (I think it was Peter) when he got his toncils taken out. Ice cream is the only thing that really helps.

In spite of all this, Sarah and I got a lot done this weekend, including disassembling my rickety, coming-apart-at-the-seams tv stand. We got it out to the garbage, packed my DVDs and VHS tapes; we dealt with my handbags and winter hats and scarfs from the closet; baking dishes, appliances, and a few small wall hangings got boxed up; most importantly we erased the hard drive on my old computer so it can be given away. I feel significantly more relaxed than I did a few days ago. I feel like I'm back on schedule where the move is concerned.

My days in this apartment are numbered. I'm usually so excited to move, but this time I feel more ambivalent. Not that I'm not pleased to have more space, but so much about this little matchbox apartment I have is so charming and convenient. I need so much to make the new space start up smoothly, and I'm a little worried about making the money stretch. I'm sure it'll be better once I'm in there.

Oh, and quite incidental to my illness, I haven't had coffee in about 4 days. I never have a taste for it when I'm sick. I'm about to eat some sorbet, resume my place in The Bronte Project, and get ready for "Grey's Anatomy."

On what is probably my thirteenth mug of echinacea, I decided to put the spinach, feta, pine nut-stuffed tilapia in the oven. Maybe I'll cut the polenta into discs and fry them in a little olive oil, and make green beans. or Maybe I'll wait on the polenta, and use up the quinoa I have that's already prepared. Yes, that's better for now. I'll saute some scallions to add to the grains and add some spices.

Still reading the one mediocre truly bad chick novel. I'm on the third audio book, though. Disc 4 of 6.

Before I decided to skip my class last night (truly disappointed; it was held at a local brewery/restaurant) I went by my new place with Sarah. Several things are less than satisfactory. I prepared a comprehensive e-mail to send to the leasing agent on the property about the various and sundry items. I know everything will work out, but I sincerely hope they don't think they're finished and that the unit is move-in ready.

But...the space is stil as charming as ever. It has so much room to really make it my own. And I'm looking forward to putting my signature on it.

Audio Books

Mesmerized by the narration of Lahiri's The Namesake I decided to immediately plow forward with a less serious audio iteration, Sophie Metropolis, a Greek American Gal Friday P.I. from Astoria, NY.

I'm convinced that I'm an auditory learner, not exclusively, perhaps, but it is a dominant preference. Experiencing a story this way is novel (no pun intended), but I'm convinced that this is a completely viable option for "reading" more books more quickly, for me. I love books--the physicality of them, the tactile experience of reading one, but being able to hear a book awakens my senses to the words in a whole new way--and I feel that I accomplish so much more. I am able to listen while I work, while I commute, while I work out... I feel like I've really gotten a lot done.

Of course there is the danger of zoning out and misunderstanding a crucial detail, but that's happened to me with the written word numerous times. Instead of going back a page or two, though, I just rewind. Or I just roll with it. For example, there's an Australian bounty hunter/vigilante type in the current story. For at least two and a half discs, I thought he was a mechanic. Whaddaya gonna do?

As someone who is a little wary of silence (I prefer there to be a base level of noise, white or otherwise, at all times in my surroundings), the steady stream of a human voice with me at all times is comforting to me. I always assumed that this was the case because of the unsettling climate of my childhood home--that sound was my talisman against unforeseen danger. And that may be true. But it's dawning on me right now that this could also be because hearing is so intimately tied to the retention of knowledge for me.

In any case, I'm really enjoying this. I've yet to get an iPod, but when I do, I'm wondering if books are available as podcasts? Could I download a book to an iPod? Those who know please let me know...

Coffee as a gateway food?

Some of you may remember that a year ago I gave up coffee. I took it black for a week (cream and sugar had been the culprit of much weight gain), then gave it up altogether (I did not adjust to the bitter taste as I thought I would). This coincided with a significant weightloss undertaking. I intended, in some grand, romantic notion of manageable tragedy, to never sip the stuff again. To love it in my memory, but to refrain from the taste from that time forward.

Not long after, realism returned, and I allowed myself to have it only ocassionally. Ocassionally turned into once a day, decaf (sometimes not)with skim or 2% milk, no sugar (except sometimes if the brew was subpar and needed the boost of sweetener).
When it was available, I used fat free half & half (and still do). No more than one cup a day, and if so, then decaf.

Quite inexplicably but organically, I have come to prefer it black a good bit of the time, especially in the mornings.

I am taking the time to chronicle this journey because of the implications of it. With the reemergence of coffee into my landscape also came the allowance of other foods that I would have barred under the reign of green tea (which I drank religiously after coffee was banished but never grew to love).

Coffee begs the presence of luxury. Of butter. of cheese. of chocolate. of the most succulent meats. Even minimalist black, it causes my tongue to crave the sweet and the savory--whatever is most opulent among foodstuffs.

Sarah asked me, in the interest of my weightloss goals and overall health, to consider giving it up again. With the fixed return of coffee to my diet, I have also noticed a return of the general irritability that characterized my disposition before. And though coffee makes me want the richest food, it also, over time, dulls my palate, which may cause me to eat more (the quest for sensuality)...

At this time, I feel that my intake of the beverage is reasonable (not like before, when it was most certainly not). But any at all may be too much. I've made no decisions as yet, but I'm considering what this all means.

Library

I went in search of The Year of Yes. It was checked out, so I got several other goodies (some schlock novels, some not) including Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything Is Illuminated and Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. I also got several books on CD, including Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake.

I did this in anticipation of boxing up all my CDs (which did not happen this weekend as planned for several reasons). Also, I'm just in the mood to be reading right now. The books on CD will be good for work (the commute and during the day editing) and for my weekly train ride to DC and back.

Got some great deals on groceries this weekend. A bag of about 10 navel oranges for 2.99 and a bag of 7 Texas Sweet grapefruits for under 4 dollars were two such bargains. My new act of discipline is to peel about three on Sunday night and put the meat of the fruit into separate containers so that I can eat them with little to no effort during the week. Peeling a grapefruit is a messy undertaking.

Well, I'm about to eat some butter pecan (Edy's Grand Slow Churned Light--Half the fat of regular!)ice cream, resume reading one of the mediocre chick novels from the library, and watch Grey's Anatomy. I'm a multi-tasker, baby.

Food Guilt

I haven't posted much about bench marks in weight loss for the last several months because there haven't been any. Starting in September, after I'd reached my goal birthday weight, things went awry. For one reason or another, my gym attendance was sporadic and I started indulging. Just a little. Here and there. I've managed to maintain that weight, going up and down about 7 pounds until now... but it's difficult.

My initial motivation, devastation, is no longer a factor--and I've yet to find an equally powerful substitute. My lifelong dream of being thin and elegant is not enough to get me going these days. I just can't seem to get out of the 160s range, and I can't seem to muster up the discipline to break myself out of this weightloss inertia by being hardcore about my food intake. Now that I'm down from an original weight of 222, I have to reduce my caloric intake if I want to see loss, but I'm just hungry a lot. and When I am working out and lifting, my metabolism is so amped up that it's hard to eat less. But I'm not really worried about eating that is metabo-related, because I know my body is putting that to good use. It's the emotional eating that I know I'm doing more and more often. I do think that some of this is self-sabotage at work. And it's the fact that while I still make more healthy choices overall, I'm not really that interested in denying myself the baked goods that people bring into the office, or the Hershey's kisses, or the food I see on the menu when I go out.

It's not that I didn't enjoy the low fat, low(er) cal foods I ate last spring and summer; I really did come to a point where I preferred vegetables and water (don't even get me started on water; It's so hard for me to force my daily intake of that to be what it needs to be right now)and fruit to lard, cheese, and a carbohydrates-heavy diet (I am by no means anti-carbs, but too much is not good. everyone knows this).

Anyway, I don't like how I'm feeling these days. I'm trying to be accountable to myself and a few good friends about how I'm eating, and I find that I'm prefacing a lot of my statements with "Well, I'm an awful person, but I ate..." Or my accounts are peppered with rationalizations like "well, I wanted it, so I ate it..." but I don't really mean that. I couldn't possibly, because my tendency is to gloss over or to omit my less than stellar choices.

It's no longer organic for me, as it was last year, to refuse, on principle, foods that are antithetical to progress.

I need a kick start. Unfortunately, it has to come from within,and my internal monologue is not on that track at the moment.

I schlepped to DC, as usual, for class but did not have my usual dinner engagement with Devika. Class itself was lively. It was my turn to present a piece from a poetry journal and I chose a regional one that publishes truly bad work (that was the general consensus, anyway). We had a tremendous time discussing one poem entitled "It Was Raining Diamonds." That is to say nothing of how we anihilated the journal's first prize winner, a highly schmaltzig ode to Cezanne and his apples, but that was really more about the poet's own sense of self-importance. She won $300 for that schlock! We joked about doing a parody of the "diamonds" piece and titling it "It Was Raining Cubic Zirconia."

At work it's all about the deadline. Today is it,and with one coworker out enjoying his new role of father and another out, as of 3:30 yesterday, on vacation we've got a handicap going. Staying late may be in the cards. It's also another coworker's last day. We're all supposed to be going out for happy hour at 5 to wish her well. I see that getting pushed back...but maybe not. Stranger things have happened.

After joining the Sarah-one for a quick meal at Pei Wei on York Road, I went to the gym for a 20-minute elliptical session, then came back home to work on my low cal shrimp salad. I also hit Target.com to bookmark the load of stuff I'm going to be buying from them in a couple of weeks for my new digs... I need so much! And just when I think I've come to the end of my list, I think of something new to add. Like this morning I remembered that I'm going to need a shower curtain (which also means a liner and hooks). My current place has sliding glass doors on the shower (which I hate, incidentally. I'm so glad to be going back to a curtain scenario.). I won't bore you all with a comprehensive list, suffice it to say, mid-April is going to be all about me shelling out dough to one vendor or another.

I'm feeling accomplished because I cranked out the poem I need to turn in for class this Thursday and I've done all my reading for class tonight. I can coast for the rest of the week.

Baby Pool

Last week we thought that a team member's wife was going to have to be induced, but after a morning of tests, it was decided against, for the time being. In a spirit of pure fun, and because there were two other office pools going on (March Madness and American Idol), I thought it would be fun to start a "When Will Coworker's Wife Go Into Labor?" Pool.

Five people, myself included, took an interest. And one of them didn't even put in the requisite two dollars. So, feeling somewhat lame, I plowed ahead and didn't ask too many questions about the lack of participation. To each his own, etc. The dates I picked were March 29th and April 1st.

Today, when one of the handful of participants showed up to put in her money, she mentioned, casually, that some "people" had an issue with this particular pool because of the "personal component." Or so she had been hearing. Apparently, because it involves a baby, it's not right. Or something. So, I asked, "But they do know it's the date we're betting on--simple probability, not really the baby himself, right?" She shrugged her shoulders and gave me the money.

Not long after this, Coworker informed me and a few others, on his way out, that they are inducing his wife today. In light of that happy news and the utter lack of team spirit, I decided to give everyone her money back. I would have been the closest, but among the participants, there was a small debated about what "closest" meant. I was not going to quibble over nonsense. Of course, inducing isn't the same as delivering. For my money (my figurative money, at this point), that baby is coming tomorrow.

Just checking in briefly to say that the lease signing went well. I'll have to pick up keys on Friday (the proper copies hadn't been made) and give the prorated rent for March (yesterday through Friday, very small amount, comparitively speaking). I paid one full month's rent for April already as part of the lease signing.

I was surprised to note, that according to my lease, my apartment is allowed an occupancy up to 4 people (adults, I'm assuming). I remembered that it was big, but seeing that concrete number underscored just how spacious it is. I haven't seen it on the inside since that first day.

The Week at a Glance

So I began as I always do:

red mug of black coffee; blue bowl of French Vanilla oatmeal; two sausage links.
Checking e-mail with one hand--Devika and I won't meet this week because her dissertation has to be turned around to her advisor; a classmate sent everyone a New York Times article on Proust--a phone call!

I'm thumbing through The Baltimore Review. I'm using it for my journal presentation in Class this week. I'm going to present a couple of poems that I think are crap to prove how arbitrary the publication of poetry can be.

On the way to work I popped in Mos Def's first, full-length album "Black on Both Sides." Now that I'm parked in my cubicle, it's Kanye's "Late Registration." The coffee is still hot. And black. The mug is still red.

Today after work I sign the lease. I am thisclose to something new.

My goals to complete by Friday:

Apply for at least one new job

Rip about 30 more CDs to iTunes

Finish outline for my next article

Prepared

This is the second Sunday in a row that I've taken advantage of my free time to cook meals, in whole or in part, for the week, and I'm not sure why I've never done it before.

I have two lovely pieces of beef in the oven browning in olive oil and balsamic vinegar; I'm roasting carrots, too; Texmati rice and Inca Red quinoa are on the stove top; spinach and portabella mushrooms are already in a container in the frige. I took care to brown up some chicken breakfast sausage links, and I used the avocado that was in the perfect stage of ripeness to make guacamole. While I was at it I whipped up enough tropical smoothie from a frozen fruit melange to have first thing in the morning (I wake up ravenous, but don't eat my oatmeal and sausage till I get to the office). I still have another portion and a half of the linguini, and I am committed to eating it all tonight. But truth be told, I'm not very hungry. The guac was very satisfying (it was my late afternoon snack). I'm in the mood for a mango and not much else.

Sarah and I packed up my floor to ceiling china cabinet (built into the wall in my kitchen) this weekend, so much progress has been made. In the midst of my food prep extravaganza, I'm also ripping as my many CDs to iTunes as possible so that those can be packed up next weekend, with a few exceptions, perhaps. It's also my goal to pack up glasses, mugs, bowls, plates, and all other pots and pans next weekend. At that point, I'll be transitioning to a lot of prepared foods and paper plates and plastic ware. The kitchen, for all intents and purposes, will be closed till I get to the other side.

Tomorrow after work I sign the lease!

I am so glad that I made the decision to go down to dc even though I didn't have class last night. I have been wanting to have an uninterrupted visit with Devika for several weeks now. We began at the National Geographic Society where we saw the Archipelagos (think sea-life portraiture) and Geisha/Kimono Exhibits. It was fun to walk through the Archipelagos exhibit especially, because we each gave our impressions of what each animal or species was "thinking" or how they came across in the photographs. There was one fish that D said looked like an old man and another, beside that one, that looked more like "playa," and still another that called a drag queen to mind.

Once back at her place she poured me a glass of the most delicious red wine and we chatted while she chopped up garlic and seared spicy Italian sausage for our pasta. Broccolini completed this delicious, rustic meal. Turkish coffee and chocolate croissants were the perfect dessert.

What I love most about our conversations is that there are no gaps! The conversation is so free-flowing and kind of rapid-fire.

I was back home by 9:45. The train ride back was uneventful (which is what one would hope). Now I'm at the office and things have been busy, busy, busy this morning. I'm on day 3 (or is it 4?) of the whole wheat linguini leftovers. It's still good, and I'm proud of myself for making one meal last for the whole of a work week, but it's getting tiresome. I think there's one more helping's worth. I'll have it for dinner before going out to see Sarah's coworker's band perform at Dangerously Delicious Pies.

Mounting "Evidence"

Your Job Dissatisfaction Level is 52%

Well, you don't have the worst job in the world, but it's not great. And don't worry, you're not the problem - your company is. Start looking around for another job, even if you're not totally fed up. Because in time, you're going to be dying to quit!

Should You Quit Your Job?

Clearly, it's another night for tests, tests, and more tests...

Your Five Variable Love Profile

Propensity for Monogamy: Your propensity for monogamy is high. You find it easy to be devoted and loyal to one person. And in return, you expect the same from who you love. Any sign of straying, and you'll end things. Experience Level: Your experience level is medium. You probably have had a couple significant loves. And you may have even had your heart broken. But you haven't really dated a wide variety of people. Dominance: Your dominance is medium. You tend to be the one with more power. You aren't a total control freak in relationships.. But of course you don't mind getting you way! Cynicism: Your cynicism is low. You are an eternal optimist when it comes to love and romance. No matter how many times you've been hurt - you're never bitter. You believe in one true love, your perfect soulmate. And if you haven't found true love yet, you know you will soon. Independence: Your independence is high. You don't need to be in love, and sometimes you don't even want love. Having your own life is very important for you... Even more important than having a relationship.

The Five Variable Love Test

Ha!

You Are an Iced Coffee

At your best, you are: hyper, modern, and athletic At your worst, you are: cheap and angsty You drink coffee when: you're out with friends Your caffeine addiction level: medium

What Kind of Coffee Are You?

Your Love Life Secrets Are

Looking back on your life, you will only have one true love. You've been deeply wounded in the past, and you're still recovering from that hurt. You expect a lot from your lover - you want the full package. You tend to be very picky. In fights, you speak your mind and don't hold back. You know you're right, and you can get quite angry about it. A break-up usually comes as a shock to you. You always think things are going well.

Your Love Life Secrets, Revealed

What today has meant...

Black Cherry Vanilla Diet Coke for the first time; an introduction to Fleming & John; A coworker's wife's induced labor; a close professional encounter with editor boy (proximity, I've rediscovered, is often the culprit of intrigue); me sending out meeting notes; me applying lotion to my hands every five minutes; eating vegetables and a chaste turkey sandwich; coming to the conclusion that if given the opportunity, i'll take the leap...

I looked up Cro-Magnon on Wikipedia this morning because I kept wanting to use it as an adjective, or really, rather more as a simile to describe editorboy's walk. I wanted to type "Editorboy walks like a Cro-Magnon man," but I realized I didn't know if that was actually accurate.

As it turns out, the Cro-Magnon species of the upper Paleolithic period, was a rather graceful iteration of Homo Sapien. Many people, according to Wikipedia, are thinking of the Neanderthal when they say Cro-Magnon.

In any case, I am not stating, by any means of twisted logic that eb is neanderthalesque. But his gait is odd and somewhat primitive-looking. He's not a big man at all, but there's a solidity and compactness to his build (much like the Neanderthal) that calls to mind very early man.

Wow. It really does seem like I'm insulting this guy. I assure you I am not.

Do I need a building to fall on me?

the latest in the announcements of those leaving? my direct manager.

Stocked Fridge

For the last several months I've been grocery shopping piecemeal. A few items one day, a few a couple of days later. Occasionally I'd buy enough for a week at a stretch, but that was considered a "haul."

Before that I shopped the way my mother always did when I was growing up. Enough food for an entire month with sidebar trips to the market as needed in between. There are benefits to both methods, and now I remember why I always preferred doing the "big shop" in the past.

It gives such a feeling of satisfaction to look into one's pantry, freezer, and refrigerator and know that there is plenty to eat and plenty to offer. It gives one options, variety, and the ability to plan way ahead.

Tonight, while watching "Grey's Anatomy" I made a low cal shrimp salad which I separated into two separate containers for lunch two days this week; I browned ground turkey, sauteed garlic, and got the sauce started for tomorrow night's whole wheat linguini meal; I made an entire package of turkey sausage links to go with my packet of oatmeal for breakfast every day this week; I threw out old stuff that I knew I wouldn't eat before the move (including mostly empty bottles of alcohol that had been in my cabinet for at least a year or more); I consolidated condiments. Finally, I had a nightcap of the leftover Naked Mighty Mango and Apricot nectar Sarah gave me, mixed with a little vanilla vodka, and a few cubes of ice to make it cold.

I've unpacked my clean laundry (Sarah's been great about letting me do it at her place since she has a washer and dryer in her apartment); I'm in my pjs, and now at about quarter past midnight I'm ready for bed. And even though I'll get precious little sleep, I'm feeling so settled.
I'm glad Sarah and I skipped the newcomer's reception at church to take care of some practical stuff. I can't imagine how much going would have set us back.

We had a terrific time at Kim's on Saturday. Her little one took to us like a duck to water. What an adorable little boy...and her dog, well, she pretty much won my heart with her desperate need for affection and cuddling. I cannot resist a human or an animal who is unabashed in his (or her, in the dog's case) desire to be near me. Kim is looking tremendous. It was so easy to be with her and talk with her--as though not a day had passed. She and Sarah had never met before, but Sarah loved her. We were there for about 6 hours!

Now I just have to get Sarah and Devika in the same room. I know that will be instant chemistry as well.

Today I'm going to hang out with Jackson's Mom for the first time in about 3 and a half years. We met through the job I had prior to my current one, and we bonded when were both assigned to a crap post at a government agency. Sarah and I are going to drive north and west (??) of Baltimore to see her in her neck of the woods. I am looking forward to meeting her dog, cats, and her son, of course.

Last night I got together with E. We went to Bennigan's for a late dinner (I had a hair appointment right after work). The meatloaf I got was very very good. I never expect much from franchise establishments, so when something is above par, it's really a delight.

While I wait for Sarah to show up I'm listening to Marvin Gaye's "Distant Lover" from the "Let's Get It On" album, which is among my top 5 albums of all time. I enjoy voices that have a little tear in them, something ragged with yearning. He did that so well. The song progresses in such a way that he is losing control of his emotions in increments. The tight melody and harmony hums along in perfect time, then he begins to interject little substitutions and interjections... things like "Lord, Have Mercy," after a verse... but by the third verse, he's taken the leash off his voice all together. He asks this woman, Do you want to hear me scream and plead... plead?

Nobody does it like that anymore.

Obsessive Listening

So yesterday I actually went into the office in lieu of working from home. I still left at about two to meet up with Devika prior to my class (we did Ethiopian food!) for dinner, which was, as usual, a treat.

But while still at the company store editing away, editor boy visited my cube and asked, "Do you like Radiohead?" I indicated that I did, so he handed me a CD he had "incorrectly" burned or something. I know the feeling. You make a mistake on a burn and that's it. No do overs. You throw it out or, and now I know this, you pass it on to your amiable coworker...

This has really been a week for obsessive listening to whatever song is moving me at the moment. I happen to have four or five that I can't live without. Heavy rotation. They are Mos Def's "The Panties" (that's right, the panties, but please note: the song never even once mentions this slightly embarrassing word.), Matthew Good's "We were hunting rabbits," and about three different songs from Leela James's album.

So, yesterday, when I was DC bound and sleeping, after about 15 successive listens to Mos Def's Marvin Gaye-sampled love groove (baby, slow down, we're gonna be here for a while, okay?), I stuck in the atmospheric Radiohead (tres conducive to sleeping)... so disembodied and ethereal. A few times I woke up thinking "who am I again?" and then I would go back to sleep.

On the way back home last night I was too tired to sleep. So it was me and Mos Def again. Him telling me to slow down, take my time, because we were going to be here for a while...

Dear Baltimore,

My unpretentious lover who doesn't shame me when I have spinach in my teeth, teaches me to ease into your straightforward rhythms, find the complications hidden in your facade of accessibility, adore your paradoxes, your humble beginnings; you winning underdog, you post-industrial hovel, your calloused fingertips run the length of my spine, your sure hands at the small of my back hover; Your breath is stale coffee, your lips a smirk that so easily form a kiss; you chain-smoking, disenfranchised day laborer with cuffed jeans and a black skull cap; you sad bastard who loves the untamed wildness in me that I've held back, pushed in, and stuffed up...so large, lousy with loose ends, mad with cursed yearning, what I want to say is it will never be over between us...

I didn't, as I told myself I would, finish my paper for class this week; I did, however, organize all of my papers and handouts for both classes. I also read over my syllabi to to get arms around the balance of the semester, and I formed a mental outline for some upcoming assignments. I also revised one of two poems I need to turn in this week. I'll start the paper during my lunch hour today and it will be ready to turn in on Wednesday.

This balmy weather put me in such a fabulous mood that I could not wait to get to the gym after work yesterday; I practically ran all the way to the rec center. And when I got there it was all zone. I went for an extra little walk around campus afterward.

A coworker of mine, this time someone who is crucial to our team's success, has accepted another position and so will be giving her notice today. I have been very invested in this process on her behalf as I gave her a peer reference and was unconflicted about doing so. She has a tremendous work ethic. But I do wonder how this news will go over...

You know, I'm past certain things. But I still have moments, that sometimes last for the better part of the day, in which I'm aware of a phantom pain in a phantom limb. Absence is a presence all its own.

About a year ago, when I was in the thick of my own personal grief--when it was impossibly fresh--I had an epiphany: There would come a time when I would not be in that raw place of mourning, when I would care less than I could imagine possible, for this person, the hopes I attached to him, and the sadness of that leveled me more than my feral sorrow over dashed dreams and urequited love.

More often than not, now, I'm aware that this point of true detachment looms ahead. And I am not of the mindset that I should avoid or delay it in any way, but...

it is still crazy to me that after all of everything.... 'everything' simply being the friendship, the parts of it that were pure and good (and I can still see such parts of it, though they are elusive and shift in certain kinds of light.), that he is among the names and faces of men I no longer wish to know.

I finished Henry James' The Beast in the Jungle. I may have judged him as "a big bore" too quickly. I found that I was impatient with the circuitous syntax and the heavy-handed language, but I can see now that this jumbled, beating about the bush form of expression mirrors the protagonists thought processes. It's a clever little piece, but all the same, I don't know that I'm ready to read any other James works in the near future.

I decided to e-mail guy number 2 of the casual message/no photograph fame. I essentially wrote to thank him for his kind remarks and for his note, but stated quite frankly that I would need to to see a photograph and know something more about him before I would be able to determine whether a correspondence is something I'd want to invest in. I explained to him that he currently has the benefit of knowing what I look like and something about me (based on my now defunct profile on Friendster), but that I didn't have the same benefit.

I actually have peace about the whole situation now. I didn't feel right about not acknowledging him at all, but I also couldn't let him think that he was going to get the benefit of some e-mail discourse with me before I can determine some basics. I've heard nothing back at this point.

Well, I'm off to Annapolis for the day! And then later church. Gosh, but it's gorgeous out!

New [to me] Music.

Big love to Sarah for hooking me up with a couple of new[ish] songsters. She brought over Ray LaMontagne who has traces of Otis Redding and a little vintage Kenny Loggins (that is pre "FootLoose" Kenny Loggins) in his voice and Leela James, who is the female Anthony Hamilton, whom I adore and who also has a new album. Definitely listen to any samples that are available on these sites. If you like soul with a little country thrown in (in LaMontagne's case), or soul with a little black Baptist church, and some arresting beats (in the cases of James and Hamilton), then you'll like this stuff.

Oh, and major props to Leela for doing a No Doubt cover ("Don't Speak") r&b style while totally maintaining the song's integrity. I have always believed that music, like people, is spectral... it all flows from one origin point. The various expressions are nuances and textures, but it all goes back to one place, and the more of the different genres you listen to, the more you can hear all in the one.

"I assume you're referring to women's troubles..."
--Mr. Hall in "Clueless"

This is not a post in which I, your faithful Kate Krupnik, will give too much information. Not my style. Suffice it to say, there are times when my emotions get the better of me and I do things like cry during poignant scenes of a syndicated "Judging Amy" episode; become irrationally, principally angry at a person I don't know for something like the inherent hypocrisy of not posting a photo on a Web site and then hitting on me because he likes my photo (that is hypocritical, but my response is probably inordinant); essentially, the bear in my heart wakes up from its nap, and well... let's just say I'm not fit for company.

Now then, moving on from that.

For a number of practical reasons I'm not DC bound today, and that just feels weird. But I know I'm going to get a lot of work done, both personal and business-related. I have so much reading to do for my non poetry workshop class, and a paper to write, and so much packing. Hopefully next Thursday the weather will be as lovely as it is today so Devika and I can meet for Ethiopian food under ideal conditions. Neither of us likes the cold.

Listening to Ella Fitzgerald is good for me. It's hard to be an irritable bee-yatch with that buttercream pearl voice swirling around you.

Unsolicited

Yesterday I got not one, but two e-mails from perfect strangers wanting to know if I'd like to get to know them better. The first was from a young man who found my profile through my e-mail provider, the other from one of those networking sites that I'm only on because a friend invited me to participate. I literally never go to the thing, and I certainly don't send people I don't know messages seeking friendship or any other type of relationship, so it's easy for me to forget that I have it. Anyway...

The first guy was, how shall I put this...? Overzealous. And all of 26. He provided some height/weight specs and padded his missive with CAPS and exclamation points!!!

It all adds up to: Um, no.

The second man, to his credit, sent a much more casual note, but did manage to work in some important details. For example, he has a house that he likes to work on in his spare time. And... he used a somewhat non-cliched word to describe my smile, which will not yield him a date, but did get him a few points from the editor in me. No picture, though, and no specs.

It still all adds up to: No

I decided, a few months ago, against meeting a potential romantic partner via the Internet. It's just not my speed. In addition to the fact that everyone who is looking to date via services like match.com, EHarmony, etc., seems really desperate to me; I never find that the kind of man I want to meet is the kind of man who wants to meet me, based solely on a photograph.

And while these two gentlemen from yesterday meant well, I'm sure, hearing from them was disheartening. Am I being totally unrealistic? Is it wrong to think that I can have the kind of man I'd really want to be with? Or, is it time I realized that guys like the overexuberant 26 year old or this 38 year old who didn't post his photo on a photo-driven site, are as good as its going to get?

Snuggly

After a long workout I came home and started dinner then got into a really hot shower. I ate dinner in my bathrobe with a towel wrapped around my head. At some point I'll put on some pajamas, but I'm enjoying my current outfit for the time being.

I'm essentially biding my time until the Sex and the City reruns on TBS at 9...but I'm so tired I might not make it through both episodes.

The Case of the Missing Sausage Links

My Glad container, with a post-it attached, was sitting on my desk this morning waiting for me. Essentially, a much-liked coworker of mine had brought in sausages a few weeks ago, thought mine were they, and that they were old, and tossed them. She asked to be forgiven and noted that she owes me lunch. I e-mailed her and told her that I am a) relieved that this was an honest mistake and not a theft, and b) that what the sausages work out to is about 3 dollars--by no stretch of the imagination a whole lunch.

I'm very glad that the note I sent out yesterday asked a question about my food and didn't make an erroneous statement. Even when an assumption is reasonable, it still may not be right. Yesterday I was convinced that someone stole my food, but I didn't want to come off as a loose cannon anger ball in an office-wide e-mail, so I tempered myself. Because I took that tactic, I didn't inadvertently make someone who made an honest mistake feel worse.

All's well that ends well.

Um...

so someone stole some food of mine from the fridge. I sent out as non accusatory an e-mail as possible asking about its whereabouts, but yeah... gone.

This is what it's like after you leave a place

Remarkably similar to the way it was before you left. I've wondered, in the past, "what was the office at my old job like the day after I walked out the doors for the last time?" As someone who has seen a lot of coworkers come and go in the last three months (including one more today--leaving of his own accord for greener pastures), what always amazes me is how the steady hum of CPUs, the constant clacking of keyboard keys, the slow drip of the coffeemaker, and the swish of trousers and khakis as people quickly walk down the hall to get to meetings, does not change one iota. And if anyone misses the departed, there is no indication. Within a week's time, they barely remember so-and-so who used to sit by the printer. Someone else starts shouldering your responsibilities and pretty soon no one can remember a time when that person didn't do your job.

It may be different in more specialized professions, but at the company store, well...

This is not a sad post, by the way. It just actually helps me to know that someday in the not-too-distant future, I'll be moving on, and that no one here will miss a beat because of it. There's an appropriate sense of detachment in that.

There is the scene in Jerry MaGuire where the office is suspended as he makes his awkward good-bye, a timid Renee Zellwegger trailing behind him. No one moves a muscle. And as soon as the glass doors shut behind them, the drones return to the frenzy without giving any thought to what just happened, because they don't have the luxury of overanalyzing one man's and one woman's departure.

Nowhere to run, Nowhere to hide....

If you're not into the pomp and circumstance of the Academy Awards, but want to relax in front of the television on the show's big night, there is literally no escape. Sunday night is usually slim pickings in TV land, but I cash in at 10 p.m. with Grey's Anatomy. Not tonight. Preempted by the pomp and the circumstance.

You would think the other networks would try. The WB, for its part, is serving up an edited, bleeped-out version of "8 Mile," which could be a contender for those who a) haven't already seen it, and b) don't mind watching a bleeped-out version of a film that has enough curse words that the bleeps could drive them bleeping crazy!

I took a little break from packing to watch three films at Sarah's place that I'd been meaning to see: "Elizabethtown," "In Her Shoes," and "Walk the Line." All of them were entertaining. "In Her Shoes" was better than I thought it'd be (I read the book, which was fine, given the genre), but "Walk the Line" is definitely worth seeing. It begs the question, though. Were there no music powerhouses that didn't have a major drug addiction at some point in their lives?

I did skip the happy hour yesterday. As it turns out, the coworker who was fired was let go on reasonable grounds--not based on his performance, but based on certain improprieties. Arthouse Cinema wanted to leave anyway, so his decision to make yesterday his last wasn't impacted at all by that news.

As for me, I had groceries I wanted to deal with, boxes to bring up from my storage unit, and I was really in the mood to go out to dinner with Sarah--and the overall mood of my company is still what it is, so I couldn't muster up the good spirits to join them for drinks.

I'm pretty proud of all I was able to do last night in a relatively short period of time. I brought up the old computer I want to give to charity (some files have to be removed from it beforehand), all of the kitchen appliance boxes I saved, and other boxes that can be put to general use. My apartment, at this point, is ready to be broken down.

Preparing for a move, as I've discussed before, is actually a lot of fun for me. And I like unpacking, too, and so do it fairly quickly. The unsettling part is that time of limbo before you've made the attachment to the new space and figured out how things need to be in that new space.
After two years my current living space has definitely taken on a shape, and my things have a personality in this apartment that will change when they are housed elsewhere. I always find that some of my stuff looks foreign to me when I first unpack it. And I feel foreign, too.

Well enough of such maudlin preoccupations. I have to rise up and meet the day.

Two more people have left the building

I returned to work this morning to find out that a coworker got the ax yesterday. This person was not on my team, or technically in my department, but he worked closely with us on many projects--including a very recent one. I can't imagine what happened, but his dismissal has caused a good friend of his, a one Mr. Arthouse Cinema, to decide to jump ship as well. Arthouse is not a vested (read: permanent) employee and has never wanted to be, so he's cutting his losses. He was just telling me a week or so ago that he saw his time here coming to an end. When they sacked his friend, he decided that now is as good a time as any, I guess. I just got back from his good-bye sushi lunch. No one in authority yet knows that he won't be back. He's going to lower the boom at the end of the day.

We are supposed to have a celebratory happy hour this evening for having completed our last big project, courtesy of the upper eschelon, but I hadn't been feeling it. I came in this morning already having decided that I was not going to attend. I think this clenched it.

I feel like a zombie. I got in at midnight last night and went to bed almost immediately, knowing full well that when my alarm went off at 5:30, I would wish I was someone else. Brutal. It doesn't help that I am too keyed up to sleep on the train on the way home. I tried to read some of Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" (for my short story class) on the way back, but I couldn't focus. If I didn't have a morning meeting I would have seriously considered calling in sick.

The best part of my Thursdays, as you all know, is my visit with Devika. Her hospitality is wide and deep. She prepared a delicious meal of breaded chicken breast, her famous version of macaroni & cheese (with gruyere!), and aspiration--this delicious, but slightly trippy vegetable hybrid (broccoli that aspires to be asparagus). Upon my arrival she presented me with a perfectly chilled glass of white wine, and we got right into the rhythm of invigorating conversation. Nothing is idle or wasted with her. Just pure substance. Honestly, I worry that I'm talking too fast sometimes, or talking with my mouth full (I had seconds of everything last night!) because I am so enjoying the company and the food. When you are with someone so generous and so well-balanced as my dear friend, you find that it changes the cast of everything else, too. As for me, I feel that I open up a bit more and feel free to embrace my penchant for sensuality. The specific smells of foods, the sound of deep, unguarded laughter... the heat and swirl--the rich taste of the Turkish coffee or Chai she makes. When a friend prepares to welcome you with love, the only response is to be greedy, and just take it all in. It's the appropriate return of such lavish, extravagant generosity.

And this woman is whip-smart and funny and I leave her feeling like I can go to my often less-than-stellar class because my tank is so full.

I am really going to miss this place

It's a lovely, overcast Thursday morning. After my workout I came home and ate some lacklustre organic oatmeal with honey and set about my work day. Two hours later, I was famished, so I went up the block to Old Faithful to get a house omelette (spinach, cheese, tomatoes, and sprouts) that comes with multi-grain toast and seasoned potatoes. I saved the toast though, and got a carrot ginger muffin, instead. A cup of black coffee and I was on my way...

I gotta tell ya, I'm a real winner sometimes, people. I took the trouble to buy some chicken cutlets, green onions, and portabella mushrooms to make for dinner last night (with Inca red quinoa, and spinach, maybe) but forgot to take the items home! I left them here at work in the fridge, where I know they'll be fine...but yesterday a coworker offered me a ride home, which is arguably so much better when one has groceries to transport.

Now today I have the added complication of having to go to the bank on my lunchbreak to get some money out to then take to the leasing agent. It's a bit of a headache because my debit card has a limit on how much money I can take out within a 24-hour period (and I am grateful for the cap; I get that it protects me, ultimately), and I need more than I can withdraw via ATM... so, anyway, I am sure that this will involve at least one cab ride. But if I can get this all dealt with midday, then I can just go straight home from work, with my chicken that I won't have time to cook because it's a class night...

This is what being occasionally forgetful can do! Totally derail the best laid plans.

But... this is the time for perspective and rallying.

1. I had and have the money to buy food.
2. I have a job at which to forget said food.
3. I have this "headache" of having to go to the bank because I got the apartment!
4. As one who almost never takes a full-on lunch break, I am entitled to a slightly longer lunch to run an errand.
5. After this is taken care of, I can move on to other things!

Minor glitch, all better now...

I mentioned, in rather cursory fashion, Devika's and my less-than-stellar server from last week. Turns out he wreaked more havoc than I thought. He charged my card for my half of the meal and the total bill as well. In all likelihood he made the error, then voided the charge, but no matter, because it caused about 35 dollars of my money to be held in abeyance for a couple of days. I called (both the bank and the restaurant) on Sunday when I noted the error, and I was told by the bank that they could do nothing until Tuesday morning (of course they had already assessed me a 35.00 fee in anticipation of the overdraft the errant charge was going to cause) by which time the charge would either have been posted or removed.

The manager at the restaurant was slightly more helpful. First of all she was appropriately, but not cloyingly, apologetic. Then she researched the error and called me back with details. She let me know that from her end it seemed that the incorrect charge had been voided, and that it should clear by Tuesday (on this point California Pizza Kitchen and my bank agreed).

In any case, I looked at my bank statement first thing this morning (it's direct deposit pay day) and saw that only the correct charge had posted, but that my bank had not removed the Non Sufficient Funds Fee. So I called them. And the rep grudgingly refunded the money after explaining to me that this was not a bank error, but a vendor error (I'll refund it this time, she said).

I tried to explain to her (calmly and rationally) that that being the case, she could still see that the errant charge had not posted to my account, so the 35.00 fee I'd been assessed needed to be removed. It never got ugly (I am committed to staying rational on the phone with business people; you catch more flies with honey. Also, it's just immature and counterproductive to alienate the person who may be able to help you.), but I also don't think we saw eye to eye on why the ball was squarely in the bank's court. Either way, I got what I needed from them.

The point is this: If I ever have that server again, I'm going to pay in cash.

Answers to Prayer, etc.

I found out today that my application for the apartment was approved. I even established with the leasing agent the fee that I will pay to secure the place; it's a very good scenario that will leave me with some savings/seed money for financing movers and other necessities for the new apartment.

I also got a lead on another junk removal service. In looking at the University newspaper classifieds online I scored a phone number. The phone estimate is free; I plan to call tomorrow.

Now I'm busy making lists, sending e-mails, planning the dates of execution for key benchmark events, such as: "Place ad in Gazette to sell television" (I'm selling to buy a newer model); "Call phone company to establish land line" (I'll need one b/c of the secure entry system at my new building); and "Get boxes." Things like that.

I only accomplished three items from my Moving Schematic today. Welcome to Kate al a Type A Mode. I'll be in overdrive for the next two months, but really I thrive on having an event like this to plan. I'm really in my element.

Published!

Check out this article ("Dad's Gone AWOL...") my alter ego wrote.

Moving Schematic

On Saturday, after a successful breakfast date with my old friend and after the leasing agent at the apartment for which I'm applying came by to get some documents from me (long story short, I stopped by her office on Friday to give them to her, but due to a snafu, she wasn't there), I met up with Sarah and a friend of hers for coffee. Then she and I drove to Value City Furniture to purchase and arrange for delivery of some items for the new place. I got the overstuffed chair that matches the couch and loveseat I got two years ago, a curio cabinet, a diningroom set, and an end table that matches the one I already have. The new space will have a very cohesive, uniform design in place, which is nice.

I found out, incidentally, that I should know by tomorrow afternoon if my application is approved. Tonight I drew up a "Moving Schematic" to help me get arms around all that I have to do in order to pull off a successful transfer of households. I did an online estimate for junk removal, but have decided to nix that. It's 134 dollars, minimum, for them to come out. It's not worth it for three pieces, I feel. I'll have to figure out another way to dispose of them (a bookshelf on it's last legs, a too-small desk, and a small tv shelf).

Other than that, I am looking forward to "Grey's Anatomy" tonight. It's my favourite show right now.

Breakfast

I'd lost touch with a longtime friend I met during undergrad. Lately I've been thinking about her with some persistence. Eventually, I started to dream about her. I knew it was time to drop her a line. Or something.

In about 13 minutes we are getting together for breakfast at the One World (where else?) to catch up more extensively. We did an admirable job over e-mail earlier in the week, so at least we won't be going into this meal cold, but I do wonder how things will go. This is someone that I used to consider my best friend in the world--I lived with her for a couple of years after college, as well as one year during, but I had often felt judged by her, and it undermined our closeness over the years.

We have been, for all intents and purposes, on very good terms all this time. And the trouble spots in our friendship have been acknowledged, to an extent, but I continued to struggle with anger toward her for crimes both vague and specific. Our losing touch over the course of the last year or two has been incidental to the demands and pressures of life--grad school and work for me; marriage and work for her. But I wonder if the time I've taken over the last year to do some self-evaluation will enable us to start again on more level footing. I'm a very different person than the last time I really sat down and talked to her. I bet she is too.