I'm a Follower Too

"Emotionally, his voice quaking, Zee said to me, I dream of Chicago."
Operation Shylock, Philip Roth

1. Grab the nearest book.

2.Open the book to page 123

3.Find the fifth sentence.

4.Post the sentence in your weblog journal or website along with these instructions.

5.Don't search around for the "coolest" book you can find. Do what's actually closest to you.

Stairmaster!

I know I talk about the gym like every day, so it should be no surprise that I'm going to again today. Colour me myopic. After half hour on the elliptical, I did 20 minutes on the stairmaster. I hadn't been on that since my very first workout. 20 mins. is the equivalent of about 37 floors!

I finished both discs of Curb Your Enthusiasm (arguably my favourite show)and did two loads of laundry, too!

Girl Interrupted

"Now I am returning to myself these things that you and I suppressed." Joni Mitchell, Hejira

Two months ago I prayed that I would let myself fully experience the pain I was in, that I wouldn't try to circumvent or outrun it...this time. I saw that pain as the doorway out of what truly ails me...the door that one must walk through. There was no other way. If I had grieved all of my past rejections and disappointments, it is possible that this most recent incident of my personal history could have been avoided. But, there is a point at which such musing is futile and self-indulgent. It did happen. So I asked myself what I was going to do with this non-negotiable truth that was staring me in the face.

Brass tacks. My mind came back to me, it seemed, quite suddenly, as though I'd been mid-blink for 6 years and when my eyes fully re-opened I was dismayed to see the mess that had been made of things. Or, rather, I was satisfied, finally, that every angle had been tested and my hypothesis was not correct. My faith in impossibilities was finite. Determining the analogy that is most accurate is a purely academic concern. The point is, there I was holding the bag of implications and loose ends as a souvenir yet again. Who the hell was I, anyway, after all that? Who was going to get us (me, myself, and I)through to the other side of this experience?

Minor hiccups notwithstanding, I have true lingering glimpses into a restored, ordered existence that is not filtered through the lens of wanting the man I wanted, spiritually, emotionally, artistically...

The first weeks were excruciating. A dull weight on my chest, streaming every piece of information, hearing every song, watching each television show through the filter of that despondency. I would awaken in the morning, and it was my immediate point of awareness. I worried the facts of my despair like rosary beads.

Rilke counsels us to live the questions now, because if the answers we seek are not present it is because they cannot yet be fully apprehended. I may never understand the anomalies that existed in the construct of that relationship. I am sure I will never know what I imagined and what I didn't, but I am no longer staking my life, my sense of value on rightly readng aberrations, miscues, and asymmetrical longing.

I didn't lose myself in this situation. I lost myself more in the context of this situation, but it was simply the final episode in a long series of similar episodes.

It seems that I can discern the end of this sorrow, and that too, scares me. I don't know if I can keep it all going without the formal feeling that comes after great pain, and yet I don't want sadness to become my de facto concept of myself, either.

So, I'm figuring out my life as it would have been had I not taken these crazy, ill-conceived detours. I'm realizing I couldn't be where I am without having taken them. And I find that impossible to reconcile, too. It would have been better to have not done as I did for as long as I did, and yet everything that is true now was entirely predicated upon my having done so.

Well here I am. Resuming my existence as though it never happened, on the one hand, while acknowledging that my emerging construct of who I can be is completely informed by the fact that it did, on the other.

Groceries

Well hons, it's payday,and that can only mean one thing: Grocery shopping at Whole Foods. I'm the most excited about the frozen and fresh fruit and mango lemonade that I got to ehance the fat-free smoothies I like to make for breakfast and snacks.

CD Ripping Expedition

In anticipation of procuring one of these, I have started to copy discs to my computer with greater gusto. Last night I ripped about 13 albums, mostly from my jazz collection. Tonight/tomorrow, I will rip at least that many more.

I Feel a little ill at ease because I cannot find my "Blue Miles" cd; not "Kind of Blue," which, I am glad to say, is not MIA.

Laundry

Like the poor, it will always be with us. Enough said.

Salmon Salad and Strawberries

A very Springtime lunch, I thought, as I enjoyed it just a few moments ago. I am rewarding myself with a blogging session because I have made exceptionally quick work of a stack of editing that had been lingering on my desk. I'm thinking that I might try to write a poem today, too, you know... strike while the iron is hot.

After working out tonight, I have three DVDs to pick from, Season 2 of Curb Your Enthusiasm (discs 1 and 2) and Closer. I think I might do "Curb" tonight and tomorrow and save the latter for a post-workout viewing on Saturday morning.

I have 4 poems that need some level of revision, too. Maybe I can make quick work of that tonight as well.

The Shape of Things

I enjoyed class tonight in a way that I haven't in a while. My instructor's classes are always heady, always pregnant with intellectual stimulation, but tonight I didn't feel internally harried the entire time, I wasn't freezing for once, and there was the added bonus of having a visiting writer for the second week in a row. The change of pace has done wonders for my concentration.

It was a struggle to even do 20 minutes at the gym tonight. Skipping more than one day between visits makes it difficult to keep up the momentum. I felt disheartened by the fact that I did nearly 40 minutes on Sunday and burned almost twice the calories that I did tonight. At this rate, maybe it would be better if I did a solid 10 minutes every day than this up and down business. Any thoughts on this?

Save for the 1/3 of a nutrition bar that Serpico (I'll refer to the guy I mentioned who says "the nicest things about me" this way since he has a bit of that look going on)shared with me, I didn't eat any dinner. The schedule on class nights makes it hard to work in dinner until after 8:30. When I got in tonight it just seemed too late to bother with all that stuff.

In any case, after I took off my workout gear I noticed a new definition to my shape I haven't seen in years. An emerging small of back.

Art Blakely & The Jazz Messengers

I've only listened to the "Indestructible" cd by AB & The JM once in the year or so that I've had it, so I found it on the shelf and brought it in this morning, along with the classic "Birth of the Cool," which is so iconic you should know it's Miles Davis even if you don't like jazz.

I left class in an insanely good mood last night. My final poem of the semester went over exceptionally well, my classmate/new hangout buddy suggested another outing, though there is no firm plan in place because I told him I had to wait to try out the Helmand (Afghan cuisine) until I have more disposable income, and I learned from another classmate that one of the guys in my Wednesday class always says the nicest things about me... Now this guy...well, let's just say I've come to look forward to our banter every week. Hanging out with him would not be the worst thing that's ever happened to me!

The week's almost over, and save for Sunday night, I haven't worked out once. I think I'm going to the gym after class tonight whether I feel like it or not!

Alanis Morisette's "Under Rug Swept" was my public transportation commute soundtrack this morning. I hadn't listened to the album in toto for several months and remembered that it very much fits "where I am" these days, so I popped it into the discman. Speaking of the discman, I so have to get an ipod by mid-June. Working out with a portable cd player is a real hassle.

Now that I'm at the office I've popped in a Charlie Parker disc. Jazz is my preference when I'm working. Vocals, as much as I hate to admit it, really are distracting, because I want to stop and sing and really enjoy the nuances of each word. Jazz also helps my concentration, as long as its real jazz, not musak (or "smooth") jazz.

Skipped the gym last night to work on a paper for Contemporary American Writers class. I finished it (for all intents and purposes), but struggled to feel okay about not working out at all last night, save for a brief interlude of lifting my 3-pound free weights. Again, I will be so glad when this semester is over so that I can go to the gym more frequently.

Well, better get to work. I have a stack of stuff to edit, and it's not going to get done all by itself.

Being Open

As I've mentioned on this site in recent, previous entries, and as I've said to several friends, I am at a point in my life where I desire legitimate friendships with men, but am in the process of putting my negative romantic pathologies behind me, and so am not currently interested in a "relationship."

Last week a guy from one of my classes indicated that he'd like to hang out some time. I expressed an openness to that possibility, not totally sure where he was coming from (I had wondered before, in passing, if this guy was interested in me based purely on intuition), but figured I should be delighted to socialize with new people, guys especially, regardless.

He called yesterday. We made plans to go out today. I told him I was low on cash, so we'd be somewhat limited, or I suggested that we could wait until my cashflow is fluid again, but to quote him, he has "gobs of cash," and wanted to keep our plans. I told him that I'd get the tab the next time we hang out, and he said "whatever" in a way that conveyed he didn't care whether I ever picked up the tab or not.

I learned a lot about this kid (he's 23!). For example, he's an amateur ballroom dancer, a modern dancer, into ballet and the opera. He thought I was 25, God bless him. After that I was somewhat chagrined to reveal my actual age, not because I am age-conscious usually, but more because he guessed so low that it seemed a shame to have to correct him. And it amazed me that I could still pass for 25 in anyone's estimation.

It was fun to peruse the ecclectic collection of cds he had in the car, and to just learn the smattering of facts that make up his life. We had a lot in common, like the pattern of eating lunch at the insanely early (by most people's estimation) hour of 11 a.m., but at the end of it...I wasn't really attracted to him.

I didn't think I was before, but I didn't want to say no to hanging out, especially if that's all he thought of it. For a number of innocuous reasons, I think he might be interested in more than that. I won't go into it since it's all circumstantial, but the point is, I did something out of the ordinary. And I didn't poo-poo the concept on a technicality. That's progress.

Marginalized Art

This article in this week's edition of the City Paper features a handful of poets in Baltimore having a candid, roundtable discussion about the pitfalls of being a poet in this day and age, and the marginalized status of the form (though not all participants agreed that it's marginalized). I found myself invigorated and amen-ing several of the sentiments. Worth a read. I would love to have been a part of this conversation.

One set of comments turned up the usual sentiment that Baltimore is not an art town, though it can boast several artists in residence. This is my vision for Baltimore's renaissance. To put us on the map for what we already are, but don't have the courage to claim. The most underrated city on the east coast.

I would love my literary chums to read this article and comment with your own thoughts. Let's dialogue. Heck, let's have our own panel.

Tabouleh and Chicken Salad Leftovers

Last night's poetry group was very successful. It was my first time hosting and it made me feel good that the women really enjoyed the food I bought and that my apartment made a nice impression. Even though yesterday was definitely a work day, being at home allowed me to intersperse cleaning and prep for the festivities in with my job responsibilities.

I got very helpful feedback on the two poems of mine that we discussed, and now I am waiting for Sarah's weigh in before I proceed to rework the pieces. I am so excited to revise because I know the poems are going to be so much better. Obviously, now I am beginning to write with my thesis in mind, and I am sure these pieces will be included in that body of work.

I brought in a good helping of tabouleh and chicken salad for lunch today. I ate it all; I was hungrier than I thought. Speaking of food, there was a Stoney Field Smoothie promotion at Penn Station this morning, and when the bus driver stopped there, we were accosted by a rep who unloaded a bunch of 4-packs of the stuff on any willing recipients. The delay was enough that I missed my connection, but I did get four smoothies out of it, so I have breakfast/snacks for a good bit of next week. Life is always a trade-off.

Nothing much is on my plate... just going to the gym tonight and watching a movie before crashing, then waking up and going back to the gym tomorrow morning. I can feel a real difference in my legs, especially. I had a dream last night that was wearing a new pair of jeans that got progressively bigger on me as time passed.

Working From Home

Because I'm in residence today, I was able to go to gym first thing, and it was awesome. I wish I could do it this way everyday. And the temp outside is perfect at 6 a.m., so I even walked around for a bit to cool down before coming back to the apartment.

Last night in my Contemporary American Writers class we had a visiting author with us, and it was so exciting listening to her describe her writing process. It gave me pause to thing about my languishing would-be Harlequin manuscript. I didn't trash it, but I might rework it. Make it something real.

I'm so excited to host my poetry group tonight. We are having mini quiche, sweet potato, corn, and kale chowder, olive tapenade, hummus, crackers, chicken salad, pepper jack cheese and we're going to drink orange mango juice from my jewel-toned martini glasses. What a perfect day!

My Yearning For Coffee Is Unreal

I have started to dream about it. Last week when I shared with my instructor, in the course of a conversation he initiated about the stuff, that I had given it up, he said "that is wrong on so many levels." Last night I dreamt that I ran into him at a coffeeshop that was supposed to be the One World, but wasn't, and I was there to get a cup. When I told him this, he said "you're born again." This is absolutely unreal. Smelling the deep dark aroma of it wafting from the cups of people I pass, smelling it in grocery stores, or even on someone's breath almost makes me want to cry. This is not a physiological need. I am no longer addicted, but coffee haunts me.

I'm thinking of writing a series of poems in homage.

And I know. I know. I could drink it if I wanted to. I could learn to take it black (I only did it for a week, and I was never won over to the dark side), but I see that not having it has been very good for me. I'm a lot less irritable, I have less acid reflux, I feel less weighed down, oh but I miss it.

No disrespect to green tea, but it's like the really solid, secure guy that you date after the volatile, uber sexy renaissance man who couldn't be depended upon, but made your blood sing.

If you've ever been in love you know what I'm talking about.

Little Earthquake

Received a forward from him today, the source of whom was his gf. As I was scrolling down to get to the content, I saw the originator. I did not care to read further, so I deleted the entire thing.

I was not the only recipient, so I understand that it was in no way personal, for good or bad, but it was more than I could bear.

Sometimes when one sustains a significant physical injury there is a point at which one might feel fine, up to old challenges, ready to get back in the game, and so does. However, the moment there is any pressure (even just a little) put upon that wound, the agony is unbearable, and the 2nd tear can be much worse than the original.

I am not ready to be tested even on the finer points of this lesson. It was all I could do not to ask him to refrain from contacting me again. But then I would have to explain why, and I know I'm not ready to do that.

Well... I did get a good poem out of it.

Swingin' Jazz for Hipsters...

Is my raisin bran-eating soundtrack on this sunny, springtime morning. I can feel the lifting I did last night in my arms and back. I opted for the truncated gym workout and just did 20 minutes on the elliptical, then came home and worked with my 3-pound weights.

I finished watching 21 Grams, which was okay. I really enjoyed both Insomnia and Dog Day Afternoon, but I'm cycling off the Al Pacino flicks for the time being. Next to be sent to me is Woman, Thou Art Loosed, based on the book by the Reverend T.D. Jakes. I never read it, but my mother really enjoyed it. I am curious to see how a book of spiritual principles translates to film.

Finally, I switched the cds in my portable carrying case. It's like the changing of the guard! I took out the pop, rock, and rap and have put in a lot of jazz, folk, and soul.

My first trip to the gym went fairly well. I had a little anxiety about figuring out how to use some of the machines. They were all pretty intuitive. I began with the stairmaster, and after about two minutes of struggling (I probably picked too high a level for a beginner) I gave it up for the elliptical trainer, which I did for 10 minutes. I think this machine may be my favourite. I really worked up a sweat while on it, and could feel a lot of target areas being worked. I did the treadmill at a fast walking pace for 20 minutes, but it didn't seem as effective as the 10 minutes I spent on the elliptical machine. I did one set of about 10 reps lifting (arms) and maybe 2 sets of 6 reps of leg lifts (10 pounds in both cases). All told, I was there for about 40 minutes, and when I left I felt accomplished.

Yesterday Sarah and I went to Dick's Sporting Goods and I bought two 3 lb. weights, a flexibility ball, a stretching/Yoga mat, and 3 resistance bands (light, moderate, and heavy). After the gym tonight, I'll go home and investigate my new toys, and start actually using them tomorrow after class.

I've read that it's best to keep the body guessing as to what to expect, so I'm thinking that I'll alternate between the gym, aerobic walking on the track, and strengthening and toning with weights, bands, and the ball at home.

I debated buying a scale at Target, but I know it's still too soon for me to own one of those, because when I'm at Sarah's place, I usually weigh myself no fewer than 5 times in the course of 24 hours (or less). Even though I know to expect weight fluctuations from week to week (sometimes there is an apparent gain from a previous week due to water retention or the building of muscle), it still does a number on me, pyschologically speaking, to see no loss, or worse, a 2 to 3 pound gain. It seems to me that my metabolism is increasing, so it's also an adjustment to suddenly be hungrier than usual and to need to eat a bit more, while making sure my choices are still healthy and that I exercise portion control.

One of our stops yesterday was at the Baugher's open air Market (near Westminster), and we ate lunch at their full service restaurant; I picked up some grapefruit, navel oranges, and pumpkin butter. Now that I am eating better, it seems that I am always doing some form of grocery shopping.

You're Gonna Miss My Lovin' (late in the midnight hour, baby)....

Because my cable bill is delinquent, they have "interrupted" my service. The bill is en route to them as we speak, but no dice on resending the signal until they have my money in their hot little hands. So, what this translates to, roughly, is no Internet access over the weekend. And, I will definitely be watching all my Netflix DVDs since I will have no other options via tv.

So, to my faithful contingency who read my rather pedantic updates, even on the weekends,to you I say I'm sorry. (Who am I kidding here?) Well, people this is what passes for a sense of humour in my mind these days...

How about this? I'll tell you what I plan to do:

Tonight: Walk 2 miles; eat leftovers for dinner; do laundry; watch Dog Day Afternoon
Tomorrow morning/day: eat breakfast; go to the gym; watch Insomnia or 21 Grams depending on mood; write a poem for class
Sunday: Hang out with Sarah; buy some workout clothes and gear; various and sundry activities; read a story for class

There. Happy now?

Good weekend, everybody!

Letting Sleeping Dogs Lie...

I received an e-mail from a lapsed friend yesterday. She is in need of a favor. Despite our expired relationship, because I know that the fact that she asked must mean she is desperate, I prayerfully considered whether or not I should consent to help her. I asked Sarah's opinion, since she's remarkably clear-headed about these things, but in the end, I decided for myself that it is best to let sleeping dogs lie.

The fact is I do not want this person in my life again. Doing her this favor would be tantamount to agreeing to open that door back up. I have not regretted severing ties with her. I don't wish her ill; I am not actively angry with her. I just see that it is best for us both to not be in each other's lives.

It is always hard to know where is the line between cruelty and wisdom. And I wonder, too, am I just being unyielding on principle? Well, my tendency would be to do the favor, so maybe that is what I should be suspicious of...this need to step in and be the one who saves the day, even at great cost to myself. No one has much use for martyrs anymore, and I know that trying to be one usually makes me miserable. When I weighed it all, the only reasonable answer was no.

April Is National Poetry Month...

Around late February, early March my crush on my professor subsided. It is fair to say that since I shut down, emotionally, for all intents and purposes, that it makes sense, that the part of me that is capable of active romantic desire went on sabbatical as well.

I see that this crush, along with all my other infatuations, was simply a smokescreen. Another way to avoid dealing with myself in the void. I created all this noise around me by way of affectation, bogus relationships, the hubbub of food and coffee, and a blaring television.

Tonight I had an interaction with my instructor that in the old days would have thrilled me, would have given the fire air. Before class we chatted, told anecdotes, made each other laugh. And it was such a relief to just let that be what it was, in my own mind. For once my concept of what was happening matched the objective presentation.

My next challenge to myself is to refrain from creating any emotional distractors for myself over the course of my weight loss. I firmly believe that this very thing is what has been so destructive for me over the course of my teens, 20s, and the first years of my 30s. Antithetical to progress.

I am closed for business as far as bs is concerned. You've got to pass on the counterfeit if you want the Real McCoy.