Summer time--Where's the Easy Living?

This week my co-worker is at the beach and so all the work falls to me. Generally the workload is light for two people. We sit here, bored out of our minds, leaping at a scrap of work. Until one of us goes out of town, that is. And then the work starts to seem overwhelming and frustratingly constant. I run around for a few hours every morning hoping to get bak on top. And I also have to deal with all of the clients by myself. Generally we work with the same people who know how much time it takes to turn around their requests and are always very apologetic when they give us a short deadline. They don't ask too many questions and let us do our work, submit a first draft and go from there.

This week we've had two newer clients who don't seem to understand. And are driving me slowly towards sharp words, something I pride myself on not doing with customers. I've had a lot of experience observing some of the best customer service people ever at Tribeca Grill, and I can attest that even when a customer was insessantly obnoxious or rude they held their tongue until they were far, far away.

I'm trying to be a good student and these clients are generally nice women. But they don't understand how much work I've got going on right now or how the process evolves into the final project. I have this one woman who's manager is getting so anxious about this brochure we're creating for her that the woman keeps coming down to conference with me about what needs to be done. Generally they give us an outline and we create something based on that. Then there's another try and maybe even another before we get it right. But she's so disorganized and unclear in what she wants that I fear this will drag on forever. And she'll keep asking me for things that don't make sense. I wish I could explain to you the actual level of frustration I have.

The other woman requested 30 phone cards. And she got them maybe an hour ago and likes them so much she wants 20 more. By the end of the day. I told her I'd have them for her by tomorrow. I could have them done by today but I'm annoyed. They're sitting here, half way done and I'm just not doing them. I don't have time. I need to do other things.

Like quit my job and enjoy tea on the backporch, getting coffee with friends, hanging out at the pool, eating fresh produce at farmer's markets. Reading books. Lying in my bed for hours. Road trip with friends. Hang out in D.C. Things I did last summer and am missing now that I decided having a full time job was something I should attempt. I actually forget it's summer right now. How quickly the memories fade. Soon I'll just be an office drone who can't understand why there's cobwebs in people's trees and what these young hooligans are doing dressed up like fools. I'll start questioning why houses are lit up with lights and what trees are doing on the roofs of cars. And why there's so much traffic in malls.

Hello My Family

I'm at the beach with my family from Wednesday to Saturday. I've been looking forward to the beach for a few months now. And even looking forward to catching up with my cousins and aunts and uncles. Who knows why? I certainly don't. My dad's side of the family is quite a.... how do I put this nicely? They're, uh, I don't know. They're my family and I'm amused by them and yet I can't stand them at times. I think two of my aunts continue to worry and bother you because their own kids are grown. My aunt Mary-Ann' kids are much more patient than I'd ever be. When we were kids she used to prepare them breakfast every morning. The rest of us would look on in amazement as we poured bowls of cereal for ourselves. 

I prepared dinner tonight. As my friends can all atest I am a damn good cook. My aunts hovered over me asking ridiculous questions and driving me crazy. 

"When are you going to the store?" "Where's you father?" "I don't know. I've been at the beach. You're more likely to see him than me." "Did you get plates out?" "Yes" "How about forks?" "Oh you wanted forks?" (I hadn't. God she was right.) 

And then they melted. It was the apricot baklava. I know it. Suckers.

Tomorrow I'm spending the entire day at the beach where the sound of their voices will be drowned out by waves and lots of beer.

Coffee Break For A While

Here is my new blog: As Food To Life. It's all about food, ideas on food, riffs on food, how to make things, where I get ideas for what I make, and general thoughts of this kind.
I've been realizing for awhile that nothing's happening in my life that I want to write about on here. Don't get me wrong, that's not a bad thing, it's good. I'm living a life and not worrying about how to get to where I want to be. I know where I want to be and I'm going to continue to work towards it. But right now an office job doesn't leave much to enlighten you all about. And everything else is private and shouldn't be broadcast about without regards to others.
I still plan to write on here about how things are going, but I feel the need to edit, write on a theme, expand on something I love. And along with books, food's the next best thing that won't complain when I bring it up. My blog on food will be about food and drink but also the friendship that comes with a good meal, the literature that I love that mentions eating well, and any other ideas I have about food, food, food.
And now I'm going to take a break and eat a salad. I'm starved.

We Have A Winner!

Hahahaha! I feel quite vindicated right now. You've heard me speak the name of the beast here, right? The woman I work with that sometimes terrifies me? Actually occasionally we have very nice chats about things that aren't work related. But when it comes to work she morphs back.

Anyway, I'm editing these certificates of appreciation she had to make for some stupid conference when I come across the typo she made: 'Gorgon Doe'. Obviously Doe isn't his real last name. And neither is Gorgon. It's Gordon. But you know what a Gorgon is?? Medusa was a Gorgon. According to Wiki, the Gorgon comes from Greek mythology and was 'a vicious female monster with sharp fangs who was a protective deity from early religious concepts. Her power was so strong that one attempting to look upon her would be turned to stone'.

Immediately the beast has a new name. That's how I feel about her sometimes. That to look at her I will be turned to stone, quaking in my sandals, bitten by her sharp fangs.

Lost New York

How I feel about New York, both before I moved there and after I moved back has been well summed up in this Vanishing New York interview with Chris Stein of Blondie. Sad, sad, sad. I think New York has lost its cool--temperwise and culturally too. It used to be the center of the scene. How many artists, writers, musicians, directors and actors got their starts there? Countless numbers of young people moved there, broke and idealistic, to follow their dreams. They created their own music, clothes, style and culture. It was co-opted by a hungry nation, hungry for the percieved air of cool in New York. And then, slowly young college grads moved there to be part of the scene, developers discovered this rich cache of iconography and hipness associated with the dirt poor styles that started there. It's been gentrified and swept up, tidied into a place tourists can marvel at but never really see. And of course it's brought millions to the city, but those tourists' dollars come at a price. Lose what you used to be and what are you left with?

Electrical Storm - U2

Outside my office window the sky grew a sickly yellow. Leaves were brushed by unseen brooms and a bird struggled to maintain a straight flight. The trees bent backwards in unison like a corps de ballet. Wind swirled down the spears of the Air Force Memorial as though demons had made themselves visible in the here and now. The sky darkened from its unearthly yellow to a dark gray fog. The city was swallowed under its heavy blanket. Thunder began to rumble and rain fell in gusts and torrents. Lightning zapped through the dust in bright white cracks.
Now the storm has past us by, the rain has slowed and the trees are waving gently, they are washed bright green. The slate gray sidewalks by the memorial shine, as does the air around it. I can still hear the thunder overhead, and see white lines of lightning in the distance, and some still close, but we aren't in the middle of it anymore. Once again we breath a sigh of relief and go back to our work. The immediacy of the electric storm doesn't get in the way of the work day.

I am always awed by the natural power of these storms. So often we forget just what that power means. So often we view it as troublesome or a nusiance in our day. Occasionally we are reminded of what nature can do, Katrina, the cyclone in Myanmar. But here, where nothing seems to happen, where no recessions or house market crashes or food shortages seem to affect us much these little storms are like wake up calls for me. They shake me out of my safe coccoon that I get lost in and wash everything clean from the dust 'more dangerous than silica'.

Lately I have been reading about Johnny Cash and his life and times. It makes me want to do something with my own life and times, the storm reminds me of how wild and unpredictable life really is. Sometimes I forget that and think it is a mundane cycle of working for money, paying bills with that money, going home to your apartment which is supplied by working. I'm trying to find ways to subvert the cycle, to use the freetime I have at my job to get out of the cycle and actually do some living. More tomorrow on the small details of what that living is.

Sunshine Days

Today is such a beautiful day that not even my dead car battery, watery eyes and earth shattering sneezes, tripping on the way into work and sore muscles from yoga can keep me down. Looking out of my large window onto the city below me I feel like one of my plants, soaking up the sunlight. Okay, that sounds cheesy, but it's springtime, I'm allowed to go a little crazy.

The only problem is, I know this mood won't last. I'll start to feel trapped in this office, trapped in the apartment, trapped by my finances. I need a plan in order to prevent this malaise to start creeping back up. I think by reading more, getting a library card for my part of town and checking out parts of Alexandria that I hadn't known about before might be a good way to start. I need to get out more, but I want to save money, not blow it on drinks and going out.
-Find a recipe for Sangria, make a bunch, invite friends over.
-Go to the waterfront in Alexandria (I got lost here a few days ago. It looked beautiful.)
-Have a card night, as suggested by a friend.
-Have a board game night. I'm totally into Scrabble. But Trivial Pursuit is good too.
-Hang out at Gravelly Point. This has actually been on my 'Cheap Things To Do' list for awhile, but now I live and work so close that it makes a lot of sense.
-Dan's Cafe & Joe's Saloon. I'm going out for a drink on Friday with a friend and haven't got much money. Saturday means another drink for a friend going away. More money I don't have. But searching through my trusty friend Yelp I came across these two diviest of dive bars. And they look awesome. I'm down for dives these days. And summer makes me all the more eager to go. So I'll go and check them out. Dan's comes highly recommended because apparently when you order a vodka tonic they hand you a bottle of vodka, a bottle of tonic, a bucket of ice and a glass and you get to make your own. Awesome.

Any more suggestions????

One other thing I'm excited about today is the research I did on my grad professors today. Both of them look very promising and I'm starting to look forward to taking their classes. One of them is currently doing research on Leo Tolstoy, who I am currently reading. Is this a sign? I think so. The other one has a blog all about being an ex-pat in Mexico. Yeah, I know, how does she teach at Mason and be an ex-pat? I think she does both part time. Anyway, here's a link to her blog if you feel like looking. She was just on the Diane Rhem show. http://livingethnography.blogspot.com/

Now get off this computer and go out and enjoy the weather for me!

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, How Does Your Garden Grow?

On our back porch there is a beige box that holds a fan (I think). On top of it I have begun my first foray into gardening. Or really, I shouldn't say my first--I had a patch of dirt once, outside of one of our houses, where I attempted to grow the pansies my mother gave me. Apparently pansies don't like full, blazing sun all day long because I succeeded in roasting them, but that was about it. And of course, there was the summer we had a vegetable garden in our backyard. All that remains of that is a ridiculously adorable picture of the four of us kids crowded around a squash. Apparently we grew tomatoes and squash and I remember pumpkin blossoms. And once we grew something we never expected because it grew from the compost we made.



My grandmothers were always tending to something they grew, my maternal one grew tomatoes and sunflowers in the little plots by her door. My paternal one had a garden with lemongrass, a koi pond and a stretch of vegetables staked out on the other side of the house. She was always tending to the garden. I even have a birthday card that says 'Oops, we forgot!' And inside her excuse is that the garden's been keeping her busy.


Ever since I was a kid I've wanted to try my hand at growing things, but I was always too busy reading a book, or going for a swim, or hanging out with friends to bother with it. And it seemed so antiquated. Who was I? A little old lady in a floppy hat with flower print gloves? Who gardens these days? When my mom was weeding it just looked like a pain, hot, sweaty and without much happening. She always got poison ivy all over her hands, too.


But now I have my own herb garden calling to me every time I make tomato sauce or a sandwich with chicken, mozzerella and tomatoes. A strawberry plant is producing little green sprouts that will turn into ripe strawberries if I can be patient, and I feel as excited and proud as if I was making them grow myself. I sort of get how someone could feel like a garden is a home, a child, a friend. Sometimes I go outside just hoping it needs watering. Or just to look at the blossoms on my tomato plant that haven't even started to open. And the visions of one day increasing my garden keep coming. I see beets and carrots and...other vegetable things. And raspberry brambles and blackberries, just like we had in our yard. But no cucumbers. Not ever.

I know I've been talking about growing up and doing all those unpleasant adult things while trying to also remain young at heart but I have to let you in on a little secret--I'm terrified.
Moving into our new apartment has been exciting, and decorating it just as I wish has been sweet, having all my friends over to christen it with a party was fun, but Sunday morning when I woke up puking it was as if all my fears came up with the alcohol I had so unwisely consumed. I had my mother over for Mother's Day brunch, and it gave her and my other sister a chance to check the place out. Then when they left it was nice to sit in the silence of my own home, not being bothered by anything my mother asked me to do. Doing dishes is much nicer when you're not nagged about doing them.
Jules and I made a run to Target, since I had a birthday gift card in hand, and then came home to watch About A Boy in the comfort of her down covered bed. Watching that movie gave me a voice for what I've been feeling lately. A little homesick, actually. Marcus, the little boy in the movie makes an insightful statement, about how a couple's not enough. You have to have more people to be your backups. Having a chain of people makes that frightening feeling of loneliness fade away a little more.
I've never really lived away from home, except that five months in New York and a year living in a freshman dorm I've always woken up to the sounds of my parents' house. There have always been an inordinate amount of people coming through our home, and sometimes I longed for silence, my own space where I could do what I wanted. But often I reveled in the boisteriousness of my home and my family. But things fall apart, as Yeats said, and my family crumbled a little. That safety net of grandparents fell away in a span of a few years, my parents seperated and divorced, my brother joined the army and went to Iraq, my sister got married and also joined the army. And now my mother's selling the house that we lived in for 13 years. By the time I was 11 my family had moved 11 times, but finally we stayed put and I grew up. And now that I am an adult, and supposedly ready to face going out on my own I really am being shoved out of the nest. Part of me is excited about being on my own and part of me is terrified at the prospect of being without that safety net, as restrictive as it could be sometimes, it was also comforting.

I think, like Marcus said, we need more than just two people, right now Julia and I are in the place by ourselves, and soon Kirbs will be joining us, more people will be coming too, someday I'll fall in love and start my own family and the safety net will be one I'm providing. But I wonder if the safety net I create for my children will be enough for me too, or if I'll see past it into the great unknown as I do now, and realize that being grown up means feeling a little unbalanced and uncertain.

Flip That Apartment

The 'partment's coming along nicely. I'm all domesticated and shit. Seriously, I've always been into design and making my surroundings look nice but lately it's been out of control. I guess before my domestic side was resting dormant because I was in my mom's house and even when I did a little it was still her house and her way. I couldn't throw out the godawful furniture that I hated. Or keep her from going all country in the modern box of a house we had. I settled for painting my walls and buying furniture I liked, cooking meals in her (very nice kitchen) for friends on days she would be out so I could pretend it was my own home I was inviting friends over to. And it worked, reasonably well for a number of years. But now...I have my own place and like a little well spring that finally found an outlet I've been kirking out on cheap design ideas for the new place. We don't have a lot of money right now to spend on things so we've been making do with what we could borrow or steal from home. And a trip to IKEA tomorrow when my paycheck comes in...

Jules and I were looking around the place last night and we both sort of sighed in relief. It was ours, and it was looking pretty good. For obvious reasons we've gone with the eclectic look, not too hippie, hopefully. We have the flowery, cushionless kitchen couch covered in a tapestry blanket I had in my closet (I honestly can't figure out where it came from) and a folded down comforter acting as the cushions. Austin donated some end tables that an old roommate left. At first I wasn't sure about them, but I must admit they look good. Especially with Jules' blue Hindu goddess sculpture and the orchid plant she bought me. Pictures and artwork I've been hoarding has come out of the woodwork and found a place on our walls. A kitchen table donated by a woman who overheard Jules at work isn't perfect but it's pretty nice. And then I get to go crazy with all the Design It Yourself stuff I can imagine. Pictures will follow soon, I hope.

My Silver Anniversary & the Golden Girls

Today is my 25th birthday. It's a little anticlimactic, because with everything else going on I almost forgot. I didn't have that thrilled feeling in my stomach like I used to. Ohh, I just remembered birthdays equal presents! How did I forget that?! Wow. Now I do sort of have that excited feeling. Actually, the government gave me the birthday present of the year. My federal tax return came in the mail. How did they know I only had $16 in my bank account and ate ramen noodles for dinner in my empty apartment? They could have sent a card too. Just saying.

Julia brought the check home with her after work, along with a little balloon and a chocolate cake, which we ate at midnight while catching each other up on the day.

Anyone? We still need a Sophia. Peas? Wanna step in? I think I could be a pretty good Rose. Kirbs, you and Julia can fight over who gets to be Blanche and who gets to be Dorothy. I think in this photo there's another little old lady who's Sophia's sister, so Designer you've got a place with us too.

In the meantime, I'll be here, getting slowly older and older. 25 is a big deal. It feels like a very adult age. Fortunately I have an apartment and a pile of bills to make me feel like I deserve to be 25, and lots of fun planned in the form of a birthday/housewarming party to come. And lots of friendly notes to make me feel extra special. Thanks guys!

Proving Youth Isn't Wasted On The Young

Amid all of the growing up I've been doing lately I haven't had as much time to appreciate the perks of youth as I usually do. I love love love being in my twenties. I hope I'll love the rest of my decades as much as this. But when you spend a weekend like the one I just had, it's hard to believe.

As you may have read, I'm in the process of renting my very first, very own apartment. I've been decorating the place in my mind's eye ever since I first saw it, even before I knew whether we'd get it. It's hard to top one's first apartment, especially if one is 25 and has been living at home forever (despite a brief jaunt up to New York).

Saturday I spent showing my future roommate the place and then with my family at home. My brother and an army buddy came up for the weekend. Julia's best friend and her 2 1/2 year old daughter (who is becoming so much fun to play with) came for the week too. Our house was filled with the fun sounds of our family and those friends who feel like family and a child who demanded our finest shoes to wear and ice cream to eat.

That's her over the summer, wearing my pointy toed shoes, those are my barefeet in the background. Who could resist giving her what she wants?

After dinner of suprisingly good lasagne and vegetables that prove my mom was born in the fifties, I went to DC to hang with a friend at a party.

The party was at a friend of my friend's studio apartment. It says a great deal about a group of people that can hang out in a studio apartment and have a good time. It says that we're young and newly liberated and that we don't need a thing like space to have a good time. And it says that the host is an adventurous person who doesn't mind 25 people in an apartment smaller than my new room.

Mark joined me later and quickly became the life of the party, teasing the cute girls (of which there were many) and turning up the music so we could dance. By this point some people had left and so the rest of us joined the dance party that had previously been a single girl. We used Limewire downloads like our own personal jukebox. When the party winded down around 4:30 I gave the dancing girl, a new friend, a ride to the airport, since she was going to be taking the metro and bus in the same direction as me and Mark (who had passed the point of driving early on). Before we left DC she called to doublecheck that she was flying out of Dulles and discovered she was really supposed to be at Regean, so we dropped her off there and headed home at sunrise.

Or, actually we headed to Great Falls and the little hiking trails off of Georgetown Pike, where we climbed a muddy path, crossed creeks, and enjoyed a virginal spring morning by the waterfalls and the silent, silvery spread of the Potomac. After a breakfast in Great Falls we headed back to my place where we crashed while my family got ready to go to the zoo all around. Actually, Mark crashed, I don't know how. I was woken up by hairdriers, shouts of schedules, the smell of pancakes, loud shushes to be quiet! People are sleeping, and the little girl above running around looking like a grumpy angel.

In the evening we headed back to DC to get Mark's car and go to an open bar at Saki with house music. An open bar on a Sunday night from 10-11? Obviously I'm young. I realized this morning that I went out every night this weekend but the only money I spent on drinks was tipping the bartender at Saki. That's a great way to spend a weekend. This weekend is one for the history books or my future books.

Roller Coaster Rides & Apartments

We found an apartment. It was all by chance. I found it and made an appointment to see it butwhen I went in on Friday morning it turned out the one she was about to show me was another 3bd 2ba that was not in our price range but had been renovated, adding on $200. I didn't know this and was disappointed but I figured I was here, I'd look anyway. The lady asked when we were hoping to move and I told her mid May, since everyone I'd talked to had been saying they wouldn't have anything until then, even though we'd been hoping to move the end of April. She continued talking and then paused, thinking and asked if we'd be able to move sooner, because someone had just cancelled last night, a 3bd, 2ba that hadn't been renovated but was within our price range. Yes!! I said quickly, afraid it would disappear before I even saw it.

We looked at it and I was so certain it was for us I could have signed a lease then, but figured I should wait to show it to Julia and Kirby. Julia couldn't make it on Saturday, but Kirby came and took pictures. We filled out the applications and I took them, along with two money orders to the office Sunday. We'll sign the lease Friday and start moving in Saturday. At least, I hope.

When I was a kid and we moved a lot my parents would take us to look at potential houses. The four of us would run though the house, deciding who would get what room, where our toys and stuffed animals would go and what our lives would be like, living in these places. Needless to say, many times I got my hopes up to unattainable levels only to have them dropped back down with a realistic crash. I've always been wary of imagining the future of events that seem certain, ever since. And now, with our new apartment dangling tantalizingly in front of me, promising freedom, shorter commutes, my own decorations and organizations I'm sitting here with my heart in my mouth afraid of that roller coaster fall back down, but enjoying the ride as we go.

The Joys of Apartment Searching

I know I complain on here a lot about the difficulties I encounter in daily adult life. I guess it's because no one ever stops to tell you what it's going to be like when you're a kid. Of course they tell you it's hard and difficult and all that stuff, and sometimes they're right. Sometimes they're wrong. My twenties have been unbelieveably better than my teens. I wouldn't trade these years for anything. At the same time, when you're a teenager you don't have to go apartment hunting.

Apartment hunting for a 3 bedroom apartment reasonably priced (under$1500) reasonably near a metro stop, and with a backporch (we love our backporches) is unreasonably difficult. My sister and I are taking that giant leap into adulthood that we've been dreaming about for years. Problem is, we've only had to dream about it before. It was a nice fantasy, an escape from the annoyances of living at home with your mother, your other sister and her husband, not to mention all the other people who drifted through our home over the past few years.
Now, my mom is putting the house on the market in the next few weeks and Julia and I are getting the boot. We're happy about it, we need to move out and the sooner the better.
Unfortunately, we're having a hard time reconciling our dreams with our realities. Champagne tastes and beer pockets isn't us, exactly. We don't want an apartment that's more like a hotel. We'd feel out of place. But neither do we want a slum. So after weeks of looking I've come back to Julia with an ultimatum. We can have the price and the porch, and we'll try our hardest to get the location, but the time, the distance and the quality might not be what we'd wanted. Meaning, I found us a potentially great place that is further from Julia's job than she'd like, but closer to her school (which she won't be going to next semester, taking a break.), and closer to my school and job. But it's a lot cheaper than we'd thought (bonus!) and near the metro, but isn't available until a month from now (bummer!) I'm getting fed up with practically being laughed off the phone when I call up rental offices and I'm getting fed up with Julia's disappointment when I'm the one doing all the work. I just want a place now. I don't know how much longer I can take living under my mother's roof. I need my own place. I need my own place.

Now I Know Why We Need Cheerleaders

I used to get these panic attacks whenever I thought about my future. I'd get so scared that I wouldn't be able to accomplish all the things I wanted and that I would end up broke and homeless on the street, my teeth falling out and all my belongings in a garbage bag beside me. I'd have grown old without knowing how to grow up. I used to get this feeling when I had to do anything remotely related to paperwork, where mistakes would come back to haunt me, hanging over my head like storm clouds pouring down that rain that leaves you soaked to the bone, and would prevent me from getting a credit card, car, apartment or anything else I might need in this life. I once started crying in the DMV because they had skipped my number and I didn't know how to fix the problem. My mom was with me and she had to go up to them to correct their mistake. It hadn't occured to me that I could just do that.

And when I wasn't worrying about getting a job that would pay me a decent wage I was worrying about how to pay for the stuff I thought I needed, even before I bought it. I had a panic attack when I crunched the numbers trying to figure out if I could move out, if I could buy a car, if I could pay my credit cards off.

Things are going okay right now. I'm not freaking out, even though I know I'll be paying for grad school soon, and moving out of my mom's house for good. But I remember that feeling all too well, and the attitude I took about it, not wanting to think of all the downsides, wanting just to stay in that self contained coccoon of childhood a little longer. Others might be able to do it, but I wasn't ready. I admired the people who could get it together, work as hard as they had to in order to make the money, the grades or whatever it was that needed to be done. I think I'm starting to learn how it's done, but it hasn't been an easy task. Having someone like my sister starting to go through it and needing my help makes me realize I know more than I thought I did. It makes me realize that taking those little steps I insisted on taking on my own--the steps I knew I could handle, and the ones that scared me a little but I knew weren't going to destroy me, helped me build a foundation I could stand on.

Moving to New York, getting a real job- I was just bluffing my way through it all. I was terrified. I had to carry around a Kenyan coin in my pocket to rub when I got nervous. Not because it was a good luck charm in the traditional sense. But because it helped me remember that I had been across the world by myself at 19, and if that worked out well then what could New York give me that I couldn't handle?

There is this list of quotes tacked up on my cubicle wall that I used to look at when I got scared in my grad class. I look at them from time to time, taking little sips of courage from them. Here are two of my favorites:

Many of our fears are tissue-paper thin, and a single courageous step would
carry us clear through them. -Brendan Francis

There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them. -Andre
Gide

I read them when I think my fears are going to come crashing over me and I think about how far I've come and what I've done. It seems like nothing sometimes, and compared to Mozart, or this girl but compared to what I thought I would achieve at those moments when I was scared? They're huge. I also realize just how important it is to have a cheerleader there, someone who will listen to you spout these fears and won't give you solutions. Will be there when you need a hug because you failed miserably and will go up to the frightening DMV people to fix the little things that make it easier for you to tackle the bigger ones. I'm grateful that my mother was this kind of cheerleader and I'm looking forward to being one for my sister and any friend that will take me up on the offer.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Find out what it means to me--OR ELSE!

Man! When the head graphic designer talks down to me like a child it makes me so glad I went to college all those years to be treated this way!
And when I speak to her and she doesn't look at me but goes on with her work as though I'm not there. God I love being ignored as though I'm this pest that she can't be bothered with.
Or when I come into work thinking I look pretty cute in work clothes, which is not that easy to do! And I see her face looking at me with this expression of disapproval. I'm so sorry you can't fit into anything decent and are forced to wear black daily, and clomp around like a tank in ugly clogs.
I really, really wish that things like spilling hot coffee all over her purposefully, or grabbing her shiny, fat nose and twisting weren't considered assault. Or doing things like Amelie does to rude people wouldn't result in me getting caught and fired. Hmm....that is an idea. I wonder what Amelie would do in this situation?
I wish I could make horrible faces at her or kick her cubicle. But I guess part of growing up means not being immature in the work place, right?

Best! Weekend! Ever!

I had pretty much the best weekend ever. Except for a couple of minor things to worry over, I really enjoyed it tremendously. I took Friday off from work, and chose the best possible day to do it too. It was absolutely gorgeous, hot and lazy. Flowers blooming and fat bumblebees buzzing through the perfumed air. I woke up early enough to do everything I wanted, but not so early that I didn't feel rested. Went downstairs for some coffee from my french press coffeemaker, which I miss so much on weekdays, and found a letter from George Mason. I got into their M.A. program in Literature. I have been doing little happy dances ever since, insanely excited about the prospect of returning to school. Getting to read books and study, discuss and think for two years makes me ridiculously excited. I know, I know, huge dork. Unbelievably, but I've been flogging away here in the real world for about 9 months, and the thought of using my brain again, for something I love, is refreshing. Of course, now I'm worrying about how to pay for it, and the thought that I might end up hating what I've spent the past two years preparing for, but if my current excitement is any indication, I've chosen wisely. And, my very dear friend, Corey, of the Corey Beasley Story, will be joining me on the quad, to look cool as usual.
The rest of Friday was spent exactly as I imagined it. I went to get breakfast with the Designer and the Pea, and then took a walk with the Pea, discussing art and Mason. I headed into the city that afternoon for a summer haircut, shopped at Paper Source and Urban and then caught a movie with a friend and had a beer in the summery night.

Saturday I was woken up by Mark to go downtown and check out the National Portrait Gallery with Alex, which if you have not seen yet, I encourage you to do. The three of us meandered through the halls looking at portraits of people we had studied in History, and so much more. The museum isn't named very well, but it is very interesting.

Then, it was off to a birthday dinner where friends from all over gathered together to celebrate Mark's birthday. I won't tell you how old he is, because he wouldn't like that, but it is a very grown up age (something I can't say about him!! just kidding! kinda). It was really nice that everyone was available to celebrate his birthday with him. I'm sure I would have shed a few tears if it had been me, because there new friends and old friends and the friends you make when people grow up, get married and engaged. I had the $20 I had to borrow from Julia to spend, which did not go far.
Afterwards we went to our monthly minimal techno night at Be Bar, where I ran into an old boss from Tower Records. Unfortunately, everyone was drinking around me and I was too broke to even take advantage of the drink specials. We sort of left early, at least early for what we normally do. It was sort of strange going home at 12pm, but also a relief. I felt a little bad though, that all of Mark's friends made an early night of it, but we had all been out to dinner for three hours before, three hours that were hardly seen by a waiter.
Sunday Julia and I started the Great Apartment Hunt, in the rain. It was nice to come home and watch movies after that.

Spring

She looked up from her book and saw the bright sky in front of her as the sun staved off its descent, promising longer and longer days. A feeling of bouancy and life rose up in her as she thought of her plans for the night. A secret smile slipped over her face like a shadow and she thought of all the summer nights that would shortly be coming. She was still young and there were to be many more. Many moments of excitement and hope to come.
She recognized the bouancy in her. It came out now and then and she had been waiting on its arrival so she could turn into her excitable, laughing self again, daring herself and her friends on. It had been a few weeks at least since she had felt this joy rising in her. She felt brave and life and love for everything carried her up higher. Perhaps it was the light, and spring's arrival too. Suddenly she felt alive again, having cast aside all doubts, fear or anxieties like cherry blossoms in a breeze.
She waited for these moments so that life--the life she intended to live--could begin again. She was so young that disappointments in the past were shaken off like cherry blossoms in a breeze. She was young, but better yet--she knew it.

Death & Taxes

I  just paid $408, $408! for someone to do my taxes. Holy Fucking Shit. I don't know how I feel about that. And considering the fact that I owed  less money than that. Wow. The only way I can feel better about that fact is that I had tax forms for 2 different states, one of which is New York. As my taxman (I have a taxman?!) says "New York is pretty hairy." Don't I know it. I lived there for five months, never saw so much hair in my life. Or American Apparel V necked tees. 

And the fact that I get very confused by the intricacies of tax language. He was saying stuff and I wasn't understanding any of it. It was like watching my dad help me with my homework, only to let him figure out all the formulas for me. He'd say something and I'd just nod, "Sure, whatever you say must be the best way to do it. x + y - z = 5 ? I guess, why not? Let's go with that." 

But I'm getting some money back, from that sweet assed stimulus packet. Yeah, I think it's a dumb plan, but I also need a sweet assed computer. And the rebate I'm getting back is going to cancel out what I'd owe, so I owe nothing! 

So, why the discussion of taxes? I mean other than the fact that it's in the description of my blog? Is there any other reason I need to mention taxes? Because I'm a grown up. That's what it means. I don't know what it's actually like to be an adult so I judge it based on obvious and stereotypical cues that I think prove I'm an adult. How's it working? Am I getting more boring and deadened as this blog goes on?  

April Is The Cruelest Month

I know T.S. Eliot meant by that quote that I have co-opted as a title that April teases you, going back and forth with the weather, making it chilly one day and beautiful another, never letting you get your bearings or let your gaurd down. Maybe that's why it's been a particularly difficult week. Or maybe it would be a bad week even if it weren't April.

It's going to be a painful week. It has been already. I've not gotten enough sleep, forgotten my wallet, sat in traffic (more miserable than listening to Bush speak), been more broke than I care to think about and scheduled 2 doctor's appointments for the week, on top of all the rest.

I had a dentist's appointment on Monday, and I have a laaaaady doctor's appointment on Friday. What a good way to start and end a week (And is it just me, or did you totally do the Little Britain 'ladies' voice in your head right then?). Someone told me I should do a pro & con list to decide which one is worse. But I don't think I can. They're both pretty awful. But for very different reasons.

I hadn't been to the dentist for awhile, thanks to my dad's tangled mess of an insurance problem, and I think the dentist decided to take it out on me because I told her I have good teeth so I didn't really worry about missing the dentist. My teeth were hurting for the rest of the day. Not just twinging, like they usually do, but hurting so that I was afraid to eat solid foods, hurting so much I thought one of them might be a little loose. Then of course, there's the pleasant polishing of the teeth, and the rinse and spit flouride treatment that keeps you from eating for half the day. And the lady doctor, who will make me feel uncomfortable and ask all sorts of questions so that I will not only feel physically uncomfortable, but mentally too. Maybe I should take the rest of the day off.

Last night I went to a comedy club open mic night in a Best Western. I probably don't have to set the stage for you any more than that. You can probably picture exactly what this club was like, and you're probably thinking 'Don't do it! You're going to regret it! Why would you put yourself through that? You, a person who has never seen Meet the Parents all the way through because it's too painfully embarassing!' It's true. I haven't ever seen it all the way through, because I feel so bad for Ben Stiller's character, when all he wants to do is impress the parents and marry the girl. If I can't watch a scripted, pre-recorded movie full of embarassment, where the actors signed up for the task, how could I go to a live open mic night comedy club where people embarass themselves without meaning to?

When comedians don't have anything actually funny to say but have to think of something they usually resort to sex jokes. I quickly learned that there is a limit to how many jokes about sex I care to hear. It is a very low limit. After that night I pretty much don't care to ever hear about sex again. Or ever hear a security gaurd in his late 50s talk about how good sex with a parapalegic can be. I don't need to know. I need a shower, is what I need. And I don't want to know about a skater kid's money making schemes using the one thing he's got going for himself-- endless amounts of time and lotion. I went to the bathroom twice to give my ears a break.
The MC, a very funny man, who happens to be dating the friend that convinced me to go, came over and said, 'Please come back, don't let the awfulness of tonight frighten you away, it's usually better than this. And it is FREE. REMEMBER THAT.' I guess I can't complain. Or ask for my money back. Stabbing myself might have been more enjoyable than the comedy last night. But, because this week hasn't been painful enough, and I feel like dragging it out, I'll probably be back next week for more.