Yield

Catchka-bell and I spent the late morning and early afternoon in the valley (hunt valley, that is) yesterday. Ended up spending money, however wisely, on some sorely-needed things. It's so hard for me to part with cash anymore. I feel this constant tension between wanting to save and needing stuff. Anyway, my gym shoes have been dead for about two years. I finally bought some new, sweet New Balance all-terrain sneaks on clearance.

After I got home, one of my neighbors came up and bought 70.00 worth of my cds! That felt like an instant validation of my choices, because I'd been worried that I was basically living beyond my means and choosing between having something to wear and being true to my efforts toward fiscal responsibility.

Anyway, as soon as I got that cash in hand, I hoofed it to an atm and deposited it.

Today, I'm going to order my new furniture and arrange for delivery. gah!

Just checked out my sister's and my cell phone bill (family plan). Gah. again.

Moving Sale!

So, I put up signs throughout my building advertising things I do not intend to take with me into the next phase of my life. A couple of mugs, some glassware, bookshelves that are still functional but not aesthetically pleasing, a swiffer mop with a nearly-full box of swiffer pads. The list goes on. As I mentioned in the last post, I unloaded the couches (I've already picked out new furniture!) last week. I don't feel nearly as nostalgic about them as I thought I would.

They were the first pieces of brand new furniture I purchased for the first apartment I lived in completely alone. And there are a couple of other reasons those couches are memorable...

At this point, all my books, cds, china cabinet contents, and purses/totebags are packed. I've taken a lot of things off the walls and I've given a bag of stuff to Goodwill. I'm far from done throwing things out. I love moving for this reason: it brings stunning clarity to me about what possessions it's time to unload. It's amazing, really. Every time I'm packing up, I find things that I can't believe I didn't throw out the last time!

It's a relief to be the opposite of my mother in this way. I have never had a problem letting material things go. This is not to say that I'm not sentimental about a few items, but eventually I come to the conclusion that my time with stuff is done. I'm able to realize that what it represents can't ever be changed. That helps a lot.

I'm also giving myself permission to outgrow my possessions without guilt. I want to keep evolving.

On a separate, but related note: My new address means I will have lived on two of the most important streets in central Baltimore. Maybe in a couple of years, I'll go for number three!

Lost in Electroland

Had a night out on the town with two coworker friends last night. We hit up XS for dinner then went to see "Lost In Electroland" at the Baltimore Theatre Project. Funny. The Scot was there--The Scot being the gentleman I had one very nice date with at this time last year. This play was produced, cooperatively, by the BTP and the Towson MFA in Experimental Theatre program. The Scot graduated from there as a playwright. This was not his play, but he helped out with production.

Quick wave. A smile. Nothing more. The fact that I didn't really feel the need to have a conversation with him, coupled with the fact that I started to feel like I was coming down with something halfway through the production, meant I left immediately after the lights came up.

Sometimes you have one really great date with someone and that's it. Because I met him after I met Mr. Close Encounters, I wasn't really invested anyway.

Sometimes I worry that I'm completely dried up. One of my friends mentioned last night how she sees couples do cute things and it's heart-melting (or something like that). I do not have this experience. I don't begrudge apparent affection between people. I simply don't notice it. And if I do, it certainly doesn't melt my heart. I just think "Wow, wonder what one or both of them is sacrificing to perpetuate that illusion."

I've heard enough conversations between married people and long-term daters to know that someone, one of them, at least, is not actually happy.

Anyway, things are moving along.

The couches? Out! Now I just need to score some packing tape and the games can begin.

Transition

Haven't blogged much lately because I'm in limbo--my least favourite state. Waiting for my buyer to come get the couches, waiting for a financial aid award letter so I can accept the award, waiting to get paid so I can pay bills and buy moving tape. I'm waiting to be inspired. Everything seems largely contingent on something else that's not happening. blah.

I'm out of town at the beginning of next week. Meetings in the Lone Star State.

The Best Kind of Morning

I woke up at 5:30 to ensure I got to 7 am spin on time, but because I have an academic advising appointment at 10 this morning, I came back to my apartment afterward to shower and follow up on all the quotes moving companies have sent to me.

I've also gotten a nibble on my craigslist posting. I've decided that after 4 years of the same couch and love seat, it's time to change things up. I'm selling those pieces and am going to put the yield toward a new couch (or set). I'm keeping the overstuffed chair that matches the couches, though. I'm thinking of putting that in my new bedroom, or if I only buy a couch (but not a couch and a loveseat), I'll put in the livingroom. I'm sure that whatever hue I choose will be complement the chair nicely. I have a decided colour palette. I'm sure the new furniture won't violate it too much.

Anyway, the best kind of morning is some combination of productive and leisurely. Oh, and on my terms.

Updates

C found a job--starts Tuesday. Her last day at her current place of employment is Monday. Also, on Saturday we scored an apartment. We move in June! Thank you, God :)

Nancy Drew's Guide to Life

A sincere and straightforward demeanor will get most anyone to open up and volunteer information. it doesn't hurt to be an attractive young woman, either.

--from The Clue in the Old Album

The Process of Elimination

Sometimes the perfect solution, the perfect prospect asserts itself right away. More often, though, it makes itself known after you exhaust a few dead ends and go on a few wild goose chases.

The second interview my sister went on last week yielded only clarity. Not the right opportunity. Another meeting today ended similarly. On the heels of these disappointments, new leads spring up. Case in point--she got a call today for something on Wednesday. It substantiates the fact that one must hustle even for the serendipitous event.

One of the apartment leads (the only real one I had to date) fell through. It came down to a technicality. I wasn't disappointed, though, because I'd started to feel just a day or so ago that this place was absolutely not going to be big enough no matter how I sliced it. Sarah commented based on the floor plan she saw weeks ago that it wouldn't work, but other features and ammenities made it hard to discount.

There's another long shot looming, but really what it amounts to is this: I have to keep searching.

Last Friday night, E spirited me to some far flung mall because I wanted to check out the chain that carries Sarah Jessica Parker's label, Bitten. SJP's philosophy, as I understand it, is that fashion should be accessible to women of a variety of sizes and shapes at affordable prices. For that reason, no single item is more than 20.00.

I have never seen such poor quality in all of my life. No wonder it's affordable. It's complete shite. My heart bleeds for the poor people who likely toiled to produce these articles. I don't recall ever feeling like I was looking at a blatant insult to clothing--not even when I've seen those tent-sized tweety bird & sylvester t-shirts some manufacturer seems to think that plus-sized women want to wear, or worse, that that's all they deserve.

I know I should should have been skeptical. The old adage about something for nothing and not being able to get it and all that... but because SJP's name is attached to it, I thought her label would be an exception to the conventional wisdom. Honestly, she should just insist on better quality and charge accordingly. It's still honourable that a line would cater to such a range in sizes, even if the clothes aren't cheap.

To be clear, Bitten is not sizist. The size 2 clothes are crap. The size 12s are crap. I mean like "fall apart if you wash it in the machine, crap." I ended up buying two pair of underwear--the only items I could sanction.

So now I know. Another possibility eliminated. On to the next!

Sprung a Leak

the one overt blight on my by most other accounts lovely apartment is sustained water damage in the dining room. it made itself known (peeling paint revealed more of a structural, systemic problem than a cosmetic one) a few months after i moved in. the next 6 months were spent waiting for the property manager to do something about it. she was a procrastinator, to put it nicely. before my ceiling got fixed a new property manager took the first one's place and had to haggle with the management company, over a period of about two months, to get them to fix it. that is, paint it.

i believe the paint job lasted a month before the familiar cracks and creases began to show and the hunks of paint began to fall.

there is almost no chance of it getting fixed again any time soon.

the other night i heard what sounded like skittering in the kitchen. i immediately tensed my shoulders and braced myself to have to deal with some sort of rodent (i can say that i have never once had any mice in this place and i couldn't be more grateful).

Drip.
Drop.
Drip.
Drop.

Water coming in droplets from a crease in the kitchen ceiling.

This morning, at the unfortunate hour of wakefulness (10 before 6), I felt my threadbare sock come into contact with moisture on the floor. Oh, right. The occasional, small evidence of a leak in the bathroom that i also deal with periodically.

The idiots on the 7th floor are notorious for turning on water and walking away from it. But this building is actually splitting apart due to the tightfists of the management company (located more than an hour away). I can't believe how shortsighted the owners are--rehabbing this building would bring a mint! They could charge double or triple for my unit alone.

But that isn't the point of this post.

I'm thinking of these leaks as a providential nod. It's really time to go. I know this. I've known this. I just have these moments of nostalgia or a lazy drive to stay put. Then, without fail.

Another crack. Another drop of water.

I just hope the building holds up long enough for me to get out.

Industry

I'm proud of myself. Though I've been a real slacker assed lazybones of late, I took the time to return my library books after work tonight. I even did some stop-gap marketing (just need to be tided over till pay day) on my way home. The fact that the coming week is going to be busy forced my hand. C returns to town on Monday (she was here this past week for a day and a half) for three more interviews, I have a post-project happy hour with some coworkers on Tuesday night, and Thursday I shop for an outfit or two for a business trip the following week. I'm off on Friday, but it's going to be a day of errands related to school and to the aforementioned trip.

On other fronts, I've been assigned a new project at work. I've had the luxury of trying to wrap my mind around what it will mean for most of this week.

Tonight, I did some streamlining (removed programs I never use from my computer) and faced the music (got a free credit report online--it was as abysmal as I suspected, though probably better than it was before I got serious about fixing my financial problems).

Now I need to go to bed. Sculpt is tomorrow!

Of Celebratory Meals and Tremendously Good Friends

I have the best friends in the world. I firmly believe that. I'm at the point in my life where my inner circle of confidantes is completely devoid of toxicity, smallness of spirit, backhanded, ironic "support," or any of that other junk. All of my girlfriends are the kind of people I've always wanted to know and be friends with.

Tonight E and I enjoyed a celebratory dinner at the City Cafe at her initiative, because "you deserve to be celebrated, honey..." As is pretty typical for us we caught up over fried calamari (to start) and covered everything from her family to the Spitzer Scandal, barely stopping to breathe.

I love breaking bread with the girls, no matter the reason, but it does feel wonderful when someone you care about wants to acknowledge the good things in your life by way of sharing delicious food. E, being self-possessed, on the move, career-wise, and knowing her own mind about some pretty important issues, was vibrant. That was so good to experience.

This all makes me reflect on Sarah, Catchka, Deb, V, R, and B--to name a few more--all of whom consistently demonstrate generous reactions to my good fortune and hearty support when I need it. I don't take it lightly. I'm so grateful for all of you...

Last night I had the good fortune to attend a panel discussion at the university. I guess it made the fact that I'll be going there more real (and broke up the usual monotony of a Monday night), gave me a sense of the "vibe," etc. It may be preliminary to say this, but I conjecture that I'll feel more connected to this campus and this program than I did to JHU. It's got more of a homegrown, grassroots feeling about it. At the same time, I think it will more closely fulfill my expectations of a graduate program,on the whole. Hopkins took up my time and I certainly, absolutely benefitted from invigorating literary discourse as part of that study, but I think this is going to get under my skin in a different way.

Before I figure all of that out, though, my sister and I need to find a place to live...

Brunch!

Lining Up Ducks

I had Jury Duty today and owing to a number that was fairly high in the range of jurors who reported, I got no trial action. Fine with me. I watched most of two movies I've seen several times (The Devil Wears Prada and Last Holiday) and got 15 bucks for my trouble.

We were released at about 3:45 because no afternoon misdemeanors were being heard. I took advantage of those extra afternoon hours and went grocery shopping. I am hosting a brunch on Saturday morning, dinner with my family on Sunday, and tomorrow night I'm seeing A, so I pretty much had to deal with my marketing obligations tonight, one way or the other.

The cabbie who spirited me home was interested in my wares. Our banter was pretty good. I halfheartedly considered that perhaps I should have agreed to meet him for a Guinness (man after my own heart), but then I realized that I am wary of such things with good reason. I told him if he was meant to see me again, he would.

Cornball, I know.

On other fronts, things with my new university are shaping up well. I'm just where I need to be in terms of applying for aid and all that. I'm just waiting for the second of those two letters to arrive so I can take relevant next steps (advisor procurement, ID cards, all that). I've got some time. The first day of class is 9/2.

my dinner

The News Is Good

Even though official letters to this end are still en route, I received an e-mail communique from the Director of the Program yesterday letting me know that I am in! "The news is good..." she told me. I had a feeling that I would find out just as all those big projects moved off my plate. Looking forward to being a student again, to a new computer (months down the road), and to gearing up for the next chapter.

Of course I read through my portfolio submission this morning in a spirit of reflecting on my own genius (mostly kidding) and spotted a slight typo. Immediately humbled. I started to think about the fact that perhaps they let me in thinking I could benefit from some help.

I won't be defeatist. Categorically, the news is good.

On The Road

I'm listening to Kerouac's classic on cd (the most time-effective way to "read," for me, these days) and I happened upon a little bit of knowledge. At some point in the narrative, he says something like: "I called to him, 'are you leaving, yo?' We called each other 'yo...'"

This made me remember a recent "Grammar Girl" podcast in which some research study (a result of an observation by Baltimore City school teachers) that interrogated an "emerging pheonomena" was discussed. Students seemed to have found a gender-neutral pronoun, namely "yo," according to the findings. Cited example: "Look at Yo's coat."

I think most people who even remotely have their finger on the pulse of what's happening know that it's been a part of urban vernacular for years, but moving on... I actually took exception to the posited "used when the gender is unknown or unclear." The pronoun is gender-neutral, but not because the gender isn't known. I suppose it could be used in that case, but the students have not "come up" with a way to refer to a person whose gender is unknown to them.

Anyway, I find this Kerouacian revelation to be of great interest. What is it about the word "yo" that makes it such an obvious go-to when you want a short cut for reference to another? Obviously, in his case, also not used to address gender neutrality, but more a way of saying "you, a person, me, or otherwise."

My sister, having firmly decided upon a divorce, sounds like herself again

I've spoken candidly here about my sister's marriage before. It is no secret that I've been pulling for an end to it, for a number of reasons, all of which have to do with the fact that I now know it to have been an ill-conceived design (born of my sister's bent toward an utterly impulsive need to couple up at all costs). In my opinion, she's suffered enough. This marriage was an expensive lesson for her, and in that sense, a worthwhile one. What misery is possible when you connect your life to an insecure, delusional, immature man's!

Thanks to a friend's connection, C will meet with an attorney for a consultation next week. Thank God that no property, no children, no investments, and the fact that my sister didn't even change her last name will mean relatively smooth sailing. I suppose her soon-to-be-ex-husband could contest on the grounds that he wants to stay married, but would any judge even hear such an argument (had he the financial means to contest)?

I'll take legitimate legal advice on my sister's behalf from anyone who is/who knows a good attorney.

Rain & Snow

woke up at 6 for my day of working at home. am listening to Mr. Darcy Takes A Wife, a "continuation" of the Austen classic. Diverting. because of the much-hyped weather i went to the grocery store last night--a big pot of 8 0'clock coffee brewing and a pot of quick oats on the stove--and i am warm and fortified.

have a hair appointment at midday. hope i don't slip and fall on my hind quarters en route. and then after that a brief jet up the block to see an apartment. i have a feeling...

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