Chapter 3: In which the Writer of this Blog Says What She Wants Aloud

Prospects.

Blog world, I have had to be careful. Ever since that news article a few years ago now, when Kate Krupnik and Salimah Perkins officially became one person. More accurately, it was confirmed that we are one in the same. Kate Krupnik, the thin veil over Salimah's thoughts and wishes. And embarrassments and humiliations.

I've occasionally said some true things. Some real things.

Here's something real. Here's something true.

I've tossed my hat into the ring for something and I want it. I'm prepared for it. I'm good enough for it. And I'm open to it coming to me, without equivocation.

In the past, I have stopped short of what I want because I didn't think I was good enough to have it, or I thought I owed someone else my allegiance, or consideration.

If this comes to me, it will be another chance to be faithful to myself, and to own my own sense of promise. I welcome it.

Chapter 2: In Which Kate Krupnik Discovers That If She Were a Typeface It Would Be Helvetica

blog world, do me a solid. don't ask me where i've been. i have been off solving puzzles of no consequence and eating oatmeal. i have discovered the best coffee on the east coast right in my own backyard, and i've had some near misses. i'm in hiding and i'm in plain sight. i've figured out my way around some stuff. i've made my peace with some stuff that i know now will never work out as i'd hoped, and i'm grateful for the things that will. and also, i do not like this cold, spitty rain. the end.

Chapter 1: In which Kate Krupnik ponders Unifying Themes

The weeks immediately following Kate Krupnik's 36^th birthday found her preoccupied with unifying themes. It was the onset of fall—as good a time as any—to throw away scraps of paper, outdated outfits, and to mail in rebates and appliance registrations. This was her gift to the cosmos, she decided. She would be better this year, she would not just say she would be better. She would actually be better. This enterprise involved, among other things, finding a signature fragrance and a suite of supporting products to signify her commitment to the scent. She settled on a coffee brew and grind that was the most agreeable to her palate—something nutty and chocolatey. She would no longer be swayed by these nouveau blends that promised so much in the way of smooth, nuanced sensuality (namely a better life) but delivered something vaguely acrid instead. Oh, she was tired of all that.

The first step is always to take each thing on its own terms. Then you had to figure out your terms. Or was it the other way around? In any case, each party had to come to the table with its non-negotiables already decided. No, you did not want to try to figure that out on the back end. Kate Krupnik would approach every new situation by asking herself "What are the facts as I understand them in this scenario?"

It would likely be tiresome.

But whenever she failed to ask that apparently pedestrian, unimaginative question there was always a nasty consequence. That had been the problem. In the past she'd been just focused enough on the semblance of order, of ducks in rows, that when her attention wandered at the last moment it felt like even more of a tragedy. Really, only occasionally had there been a payoff for her deviations. Not consistently enough to justify making it a way of life. And no wonder. Is it really a deviation to be unfaithful to your coffee brand? On her less moored days, she couldn't be sure.

Tourist in my own city

Another eventful weekend at the Baltimore Chronicles. C went away to points north for the weekend, so Friday night it was just me and the dog and Thai takeout (which I did not share with the dog). She woke me up on Saturday with cute little barks and jumps that translated roughly to "okay, up! time for my walk! i've let you sleep long enough!"

Sarah and I had prearranged to hook up for a bank errand (mine), breakfast, and then to revise an assignment for my Tuesday night class. That took longer than I expected, but we still managed to catch a matinee of the new Fame movie. Really, it was much better than reviews led me to believe.

Then on to the Hawaiian Fusion restaurant for dinner. I hadn't been there in at leaast 4 years, but the entree I had so long ago impacted me so deeply that I ordered it again. Braised short ribs with a deep and abiding cabernet.

Because I was on doggie duty, S stayed at my place on Saturday night. It was cool to be hosting her for once.

Sunday morning we watched the Fame TV show in reruns. S found some new-to-me channel amongst those in my cable suite lineup called "Centric" that was showing back-to-back episodes. Boy, talk about aging badly. The 80s was such a cheesy decade--the first 5 years, especially.

After babygirl's afternoon walk, Sarah and I headed back to the movie theatre to see "Love Happens," which was fine. I had moments of impatience with it for reasons that I couldn't even really decipher. I always root for Jennifer Aniston. I think that's her charm, the charm of all those actresses who excel at romantic comedies: Renee Zellwegger, Sandra Bullock... you want them to have what they want within that tight little construct. "Love" is not a rom com, per se, but it's definitely a film that will appeal more to women than to men.

Deciding that some local adventure was in order, and because Poe is on the brain in this city right now b/c it's his bicentennial birth year (I think that's the reason), we decided to do something Poe-esque. We got a map of the city and wended our way west to his gravesite. There were hours of daylight left, so it was decidedly not creepy. Fresh flowers adorned the monument.

Pushing our luck somewhat, we went a little farther to the decidedly bad neighborhood that surrounds what was his very narrow, 3-story house. We didn't get out of the car, for sure. S took a quick photo and we peeled out.

We finished up at the City cafe before parting ways. I came home afterward to give the dog her evening walk. By the time the little princess and I returned from our jaunt, Crystal was back home.

Baltimore Book Festival

On Friday, I joined some of the other MSAC Individual Artist Poetry winners at the Creative Cafe tent to read for 10 minutes. I included two new pieces from this semester's experimental poetry workshop (the undisputed highlight of my time in the program to date), and felt quite good about my time at the lectern. I ended up reading just a bit earlier than my allotted time slot, so a couple of friends missed my performance, including Mr. Close Encounters, who ambled up right when I should have gone on.

No matter, C and I had a lovely (albeit quick) talk with him before the two of us went back to our apartment for an onset fall meal of slow-cooked chili and cornbread. Catchka and my youngest sister joined us. Mr. CE had other plans and ambled off to those, presumably.

Saturday, my big day to explore with Caryl while Crystal got in some overtime hours at the office, was productive. We got there just as the festival was getting started for the day, and I immediately bought two t-shirts and some artisanal coffee--Honduran, in this case, from Bluebird Artisanal Coffee.

Wine and a robust all-beef hotdog later, we made our way over to the CityLit project tent where my former poetry professor Lizzie Skurnick and my current favourite writer and Baltimorean, Laura Lippman were paneling a discussion on Lizzie's Book, Shelf Discovery. I purchased "Shelf" at the fair and happen to be reading one of Laura's books now, so I got them to sign my copies (each of their own work). C and I headed off to meet up with Catchka just in time to eat another snack and quit the festivities to seek shelter from the rain, which became quite insistent on falling with some intention.

Once inside, I brewed some of the Honduran Bluebird and set about some homework--bookmaking homework--which Catchka graciously helped me with. Crystal vacuumed, then did homework of her own. Caryl took a nap. The day, grey at the outset, gave over fully to its melancholy bent.

Caryl had heard about a play at one of the city's many independent, small theatres. For want of anything else to do, we checked it out. One nice thing about the Single Carrot is that they give you at least one glass of beer or wine (or soda) gratis. The staging of Eurydice was thoughtful, I felt, and the acting of two of the characters in particular, was wonderfully effective.

Indian/Nepalese takeout rounded out our evening, and finally bed sometime after midnight.

you know you're wearing the right bra

when you don't give it a single thought all day long. how many hours have i lost pulling up cups, stuffing myself back in, and tightening and loosening straps? Weeks? Months if you laid each adjustment end to end?

Zen Breakfast

In Rehoboth this past weekend, I became preoccupied with the idea of purchasing music that exists solely to create a space for meditation and to be, generally, ambient.

Sarah and I popped into some new age-y spa type place where I grabbed a pack of eucalyptus patches for colds and coughs and some O.P.I. nail polish (give me moor!) that is the colour of an eggplant in its prime. I was torn, though, over their varied selection of CDs like "Zen Breakfast," and "Chillounge."

It being vacation, I was primed to spend money I would never spend in my own hometown (and tax free at that), but I still could not bring myself to shell out the better part of 20.00 for a compact disc. I don't buy physical music anymore. Why would I when iTunes has almost everything I'd want for somewhere between 10 and 15 (depending on the album type and release date?)? What I didn't know is whether or not iTunes would carry this kind of thing, but I took the chance and left with just my patches and polish.

On the second day of the weekend, I had a 30-minute "stress buster" massage. Essential oils, ethereal music, and mind clearing stillness reminded me. I needed to find a way to create this kind of vibe at home--turn my apartment into a place of supreme relaxation (hard to do with reality tv always on in the background).

When I got up from the massage table, I felt almost dizzy with calm. And my limbs were liquid.

Before we left this second spa (Sarah had gone the pedicure route), I also purchased some "Blue Oil,"which was demoed on me. It's a natural headache cure and sinus clearer. Much as I was tempted, though, I left the 50.00 Chakra mist behind.

I am listening to Zen Breakfast as we speak. 9.99 at iTunes. and what the heck, Chillounge, too, for good measure.

a new tack

I know it's fall because I have the incredible need to colour-coordinate my drawers, find places for errant pieces of paper, sign all documents, throw away summer's stragglers, work out regularly, drink green tea, and buy turtleneck sweaters.

This summer was mild and the crisp cool of these late September mornings has overtaken the docile heat easily. I have a simultaneous sense of hope and of despair. And in that despair there is the desire to grasp loose threads and make something of them, or to do away with them. So bring on the hearty bowls of oatmeal, and a non-negotiable 10 pm bedtime on school nights. I am preparing for a battle of epic proportions, and I'll need my strength.

Everything is fleeting and temporary and subject to gravity. I am no different.

Yesterday, I felt like the most simple, declarative sentences were punching me in the chest. And I felt afraid—wanted to run for cover—of everything. That is not love, not the disposition toward love. Perfect love does not have fear in it. Perfect love does not want to hide from true things.

I read once that whenever you are afraid, you need to change something. I am summer's straggler. I am my own loose end.

"well, it's not elegant..."

well, it's a cold, crampy morning at the baltimore chronicles and your heroine salimah perkins and her doppleganger, Kate Krupnik are both out of deoderant.

have been reading the first Tess Monaghan novel, Baltimore Blues, and am ever charmed. i wish i could fall headlong into a job where i solve people's subtle and not-so-subtle mysteries all day. my surly, jaded disposition would serve me well, i think.

on birthday parties and web sites

i was wearing something far more low-cut and clingy than i would normally dare--my frame definitely on the zaftig side of the spectrum these days--but felt i had the swagger that night to pull it off. i even wore open-toed shoes. another of my arbitrary fashion No-Nos. well, it's not really arbitrary. i don't like my feet much. but all the stars aligned and i somehow managed to go to three classes after work that week and squeeze in a hair appointment, shopping for the fete, and a pedicure.

i didn't do it alone--Crystal prepared the apartment and carted me around on errands. Sarah conceptualized the menu and came over after work on the 4th and made all the food. Meanwhile, Vanessa, graphics designer whiz kid was hard at work coding www.salimahjperkins.com in time for a b-day release.

as i predicted, i did feel lit from within, but there was a moment when i also felt like a deflated balloon. mr. close encounters left early, ostensibly to support a friend who was performing somewhere on charles street. a soloist. a woman. he said we should get together again to celebrate our (his was a mere two days after mine) and my sister's birthdays, but i wasn't sure if those were words parsed as an apology for having to leave before everyone else...

36

here we go...

when i was 35, it was a very good year...?

about this time last year, i began my second grad program, was planning a vacation with Sarah to the bonnie beaches of delaware, and michael jackson was still alive. i was significantly thinner and had salon nails on the regular because i made very decent money for someone my age who had no one but herself to worry about.

let's see. what are we looking at from here?

year 2 of the grad program. full-time this semester. full-time work too, thankfully, but of uncertain duration. way less money. salon nails proved to be my arch nemesis. there is another beach trip planned, in a couple of weeks, not to mention the charming trip i took with my sisters a couple of weeks back.

i've finally actualized my plans for a web site (finding a designer i could afford who is equal to the task was pretty much the hold up). www.salimahjperkins.com becomes something legitimate tomorrow.

it can all feel like so much circling and eddying, ebbing and flowing, but i guess i'm getting there. wherever that is.

The Art of War

In addition to running a few birthday-related errands yesterday, Sarah and I checked out Ukazoo, a used bookstore in Towson. It's the nicest, most spatially appealing of its kind. Best of all, they serve local coffee gratis, and provide liberal cushy seating. I didn't have a specific purchase in mind when we went. In fact, I didn't even know about the store before Sarah mentioned it. After ambling around aimlessly, I thought of a book that's always on the periphery of my list of those to read "sometime." I looked in what would seem to be the obvious places, but came up empty. The store's computer indicated they had it, but I found myself frustrated when I went to the places (more than one, yes) I should have been able to find at least one of a few versions of it.

In the middle of my search, Sarah called me over to where she was to have a consultation. After giving her my opinion on a few of her titles, I walked off, and tripped on an irregularity in the carpet. My coffee sloshed, and I lurched forward so that I was eye level with Sun Tzu's The Art of War.

I had also hoped to pick up some of the early Tess Monaghan novels, but there weren't any. There were hardbacks of a few of Laura Lippman's novels—some Tess and some stand alone--that I had already read, though. In addition to Sun Tzu, I left with Baltimore Noir (gritty, seamy underbelly stories that take place in the city of sometimes questionable charm), edited by Lippman, The Complete Kama Sutra, and a girl detective story, because I am a sucker for those.

Happy 51!

MJ Birthday Block Party!

one week, two years

one week from tonight, i will be 36. one week from tonight at this time, there will be a party well underway at my house. there may be games. there will certainly be cocktails. i will have had a hair appointment. i will be lit from within by my own sense of self-actualization. my aura will be amber. my energy, undeniable.

it's begun to occur to me that i want a child. two years from now, i'll be well into my plan to have a baby. i have no firm idea of how this will come together, but i know this baby's name.

one week from tonight, my website, www.salimahjperkins.com will be live. Two years from tonight, I will have a book.

post beach musings

my youngest sister turns 24 tomorrow. the three of us girls and the dog headed for the first state, home of tax-free shopping, to catch some waves over the weekend in celebration. i took off work today, and i'm not looking forward to playing catch up tomorrow, but the trip was worth it. i had 147 e-mail messages when i logged into my work account tonight. most of them were cc's, but still.

in other news, i have a meeting directly after work tomorrow regarding my Web site. can't wait till it's up and running.

my own birthday plans are starting to take shape. but first, i need to get through this week. going into the office tomorrow is likely going to be the equivalent of a splash of cold water in the face. but after that initial shock, i'll shake it off and plow ahead.

close encounters on the way home from the grocery store

i gave the bathroom a thorough cleaning, finished up the laundry, and then walked the dog. a fairly typical Sunday (a day for industry and efficiency), except that c has been out all day on a date with her "for the most part" guy.

she did some marketing yesterday while i was hanging out with Sarah, but i wanted to pick up a few more things for the week, and some green tea ice cream for the Mad Men premiere tonight. i also needed a new toothbrush, not to mention drano. i've been bearing with a clogged sink for more than two weeks now. it finally became unbearable.

ripped jeans, a cleanser-stained t-shirt, and a smudgy pink hoodie are my ensemble. nude lips. bare ears. completely unadorned and schmada as Sarah would say.

anyway, i was walking home, very mindful of my ice cream and the heat--still oppressive at this time of day. deep into the narrative of the audiobook i was listening to on my iPod, and pulling my grocery cart behind me at a good clip, i started to imagine the most seductive evening of television watching. ice cream, candlelight, and Don Draper in Baltimore circa 1964.

i saw him first. for a split second i hoped it wasn't him. not because i don't look great at the moment, but because seeing him now, weeks before i am supposed to see him, felt like a violation of something.

spontaneously, i invited him (via evite) to a small gathering at my house scheduled for early next month. i didn't take a moment to consider why i was doing it. per Malcolm Gladwell's Blink, these "in an instant" reactions and decisions are the ones to trust. Besides, an e-mail he'd sent early last month opened the door. i wasn't thinking of it as a "door" at the time, but clearly it was because i had chosen to reciprocate in some way, and this was it.

anyway, it was definitely him. things are rarely convenient. we stopped and talked. in typical fashion, i tried to walk away before the encounter was over to protect myself from wanting it to be anything in particular, but he kept talking. so i kept talking. and it got easier to stand there telling anecdotes, giving the condensed version of my life.

eventually, i made my back home, my ice cream melted in the warmth of the sun, the narrator of my book intoning her internal conflict over the one who got away...

two opportunities to read

Related to the Maryland State Arts Council grant I secured earlier this year, I am reading at the annual Book Festival in the city this year. Another event, this one on New Year's Day in 2010, will be in East Baltimore.

All I can say is that I'm glad I'll be taking a poetry workshop this semester. I haven't written a poem in more than 3 years now. One of those three years was a sabbatical post M.A. degree. The other two years have been about some combination of indifference and trying to break into a new genre: Creative Nonfiction.

I haven't missed school at all in the 3 + plus months of the summer hiatus. I'm wondering how it will be come fall in light of the demands of my full-time, but temporary contract position, to be a student again.

Next week, I'll be doing a 3-evening InDesign crash course in preparation for the Typography class that will occupy my Monday nights starting on August 31st.

what's very clear is that I am going to need to come up with a no-fail organization plan. In two short weeks, if every minute is not accounted for, there will be a cataclysmic back log.

Account Fraud: Why I Love Wachovia

I check my bank balance online every two days, at least, whether I think I need to or not. A few days ago, I noticed about 10 charges to various media outlets--small scale newspapers in a variety of cities--that were obviously fraudulent.

Fortunately, I bank with Wachovia, and they always have my back. Unlike other institutions I've been with in the past, they didn't put the burden of proof on me. They started issuing provisional credits right away and sent me an affidavit to sign so they can investigate in the background. Wachovia did not allow my money or my peace of mind to be hijacked by criminal activity.

What is more, they were immediately compliant with my request to have a new card overnighted to me since I'd been inconvenienced.

I still don't know what exactly happened, but because I'm OCD about wanting my online balance to match the one in my check register, I prevented my rent check from bouncing, all manner of NSF fees, and the continued reign of a thief's terror.

everything's back to normal now, and the temporary snafu probably actually saved me money. i didn't want to do any spending until all the credits were issued and I knew no more fraudulent charges were going to crop up.

it was one of those soul-defining moments

where i felt that my acceptance or rejection of a sub-par situation would be my message to myself and to the universe about my own worth. based on what i knew two days ago, i figured out what would be acceptable to me in a context where someone else was dictating what the parameters are.

i had to regain some of the power i'd lost by recasting the global decision for myself.

once i had decided, it was effortless and i was unconflicted when i articulated what i would be willing to offer and for how long. i was unapologetic when i framed it in the context of the premium i place on what i offer.

peace of mind is the result of my action, so i know it was the right one. i'm done with wearing myself out to achieve someone else's agenda.