Addendum: we are all just passing through

Grateful. I have said this word over and over again in the last six months as we went from watching my mother slip away to moving slowly back over to the place of grace where we part ways casually, assuming again we will see each other soon.  It's a strange space, knowing everything can change in an instant but still living in the grace we've been given.  Many acquaintances and friends have seen their loved ones on the precipice this year and they are mourning for the passing of their loved ones.  My father reminded me last week that we are all just passing through but it doesn't matter how long you get to stay, there is always someone sad to see you go.  There is just never a good time to say so long.

Keeps me coming back for more

*Cue predictable retrospective post*

It's nice to start the new year out clean and organized, launch into a new year as your most ideal 'you.'  I won't be starting this year that way and I'm actively working to not freak about it.  In a few hours it will be 2012.  Ok then.  Since this isn't a Disney movie, nothing magical happens at midnight, I will just hopefully already be in bed.  I don't have to resolve to start or stop anything, I don't have to set goals.  I realized that part of why I don't set goals for fitness is I don't want a finish line, a number to achieve from which to advance and retreat.  I just want to keep getting stronger and feeling better.

This was one of those years that reminds me of how life can surprise.  There was darkness, uncertainty, and struggle in this year that at times made me feel like I'd seen all I wanted to see in this life.  But there was also intrigue and that's what keeps me coming back for more.  What I know of next year already has its share of challenge and worry;  language testing, moving, transporting Baloo overseas, wild dog encounters.  But the system has already started gearing up for my departure so while I remain in semi-active denial that this time next year I will have one Eastern European holiday season under my belt, that may well be the case.  The imagination station in me daydreams about a circumstance as random and unexpected as the circumstance I'm already in to rescue me from the things I most dread in the coming year.  Whatever happens I hope I can revisit the perspective of this year when obstacles in the coming year make me wonder if anything on the other side of the pain will seem worth the hassle.

Tumbleweeds

I think it's because I have nothing to say.  There was a time when the words came to me with the urgency of someone about to soil themselves.  These days, I don't hold on to thoughts long enough to expand on them once I can write them down.  I sit down to write and fall asleep.  I censor myself.  This is mine and I can do whatever I want but sometimes the adage 'you should always tell the truth, but the truth doesn't always need to be told' applies.  I don't want to create something here that I have to deal with out 'there.'  This is supposed to be my room; the place I can leave underwear on the floor and coffee cups on the nights stand and it only bothers me.  But it's not my room because I made it with glass walls and the act of observing changes the observed.

It's New Year's Eve again.  What. a. year.  Again I am tempted to venture out into the noise to confirm again that it's not my scene.  In an ideal world, I would meet up with some folks and hang out with them long enough to germinate a post.  Being in places I don't want to be brings that out in me.  I just want to escape somewhere and write.  I would leave well before midnight and hang out in my bed under the electric blanket and bring in the New Year writing about the passing one.  In an ideal world.

Maybe I'll see you tonight.  One can hope.

Self portraits at unflattering angles

I have a picture of IBC and me taken the weekend he invited me and his friends to his family's cabin in West Virginia.  A few years back he asked for a copy of the picture and I told him I didn't like how I looked in the picture.  His response, 'I know what you look like.'  No matter what the camera said on that day, at that angle, in that light, IBC knew what I looked like to him.  

This blog is a collection of self portraits at mostly unflattering angles.  They are not the best of me or of my experiences.  They are me, but they are like the pictures you take of someone while they are eating or somewhere on the way to a smile, they are on either side of a normal potentially flattering picture but that particular mouth-wide-open moment isn't how they go about their daily life looking.

My life is near perfect as is.  If I am honest, I don't really envy or desire anything my friends have.  I know their lives have their own specific burdens and that each of our lives have very few truly idyllic moments.  I find most of mine are sans people.  Sunsets, sunrises, beautiful moons, autumn foliage, leaves crunching, brisk sunny days, naps in the sun, a burst of creative energy, leaving something good behind, waking up with no pain, a great cup of coffee, having nowhere to be, figuring out something mechanical.

Watching babies or animals sleep or observe the world rates right up there in my idyllic moment index as well.  I could watch Baloo sleep or sniff the air all damn day.  The idyllic moments with people are the happy accidents of life.  The time my girlfriends surprised me with a visit, the marathon lunch I had with a dear friend, screaming tears of laughter with my brother and best friend from college during a time of great sorrow, playing Wii with my Mom and Dad, that random trip to Panera and Best Buy with my Dad where we listened to Coldplay, all the random e-mails and phone messages my Dad sends on a whim when he's thinking about me, my Mom playing with my hair.

This moment, with the sunlight streaming through the blinds and resting on my hands, dog napping with one paw extended on the periphery of my monitor, this is a recipe for a sun nap.  On my date with the married man, we were talking about how we both liked being alone surrounded by people.  It's funny when two people talk about how much they like not being with other people but people who feel that way understand.  I hear the world outside so I know I'm not alone but I'm very glad to be left alone.

On dating

So I love that e-Harmony is using real people in their commercials.  Real people.  Like 'Hmm, I can see why you might be single' real people.  Makes me feel better about not being on the internet.  These are the people who made the cut to be a part of a nationwide ad campaign for their service.  So yea....internet dating hiatus still in effect.  Thank you e-Harmony.

I have a sexy walk aka my week in review

Sexy Walk

At least according to my language instructor who dropped that random compliment on me earlier this week.  Who knew?  I certainly didn't.  I don't know if this is one of those cultural things but no one has ever said anything about my walk before. She also told me some months back that she thought I was pretty.  I don't get it.  I know she's a unique person with very specific and unconventional views on a lot of topics but in cases like this, I'll take it.  Especially because this week I started to suspect that I may indeed be a....

Bitch

I don't know though.  It may be that I have a man's personality which tends to be more direct and less emotive.  I don't like to get distracted with how I feel about problems, I like to focus on solving them, extracting myself from the situation, or getting over it.  Problem solved, problem staying solved.  Love it.  Let's move the fuck on.  I have feelings, crushes, irrational thoughts, blues, despair.  I have volumes of terrible poetry and aimless blog posts on these things.  I'm not a robot.  But I've really moved away from talking with friends about these things.  Lots of reasons but chief among them is the basic human condition; a homeless man does not seek the ear of a rich man to commiserate on his condition; a fat person does not want to flesh out their body confidence issues with a skinny person, even if they used to be fat or poor or whatever you are that you don't want to be.  If you want to talk at all, it won't be with those people.  On balance the best ears for discussing problems without solutions (if you don't have a blog) is a guy.  They usually say something like 'that fucking sucks, that guy/girl is a d-bag, sorry that happened,' and then we laugh.  They don't conduct follow up questioning, I can not remember a time they asked about my feelings, and they show they care by making me laugh.  But in general talking about my problems (real or perceived) doesn't usually make me feel better, it makes me feel worse.  But that's just how I feel about *my* feelings.  A topic of moot discussions at best and an irritating distraction at worst.  But that's probably because I am also...

Militant

I don't have the energy for lots of things to be important to me.  Like how someone I do not know or care about feels about me.  I don't need people to like me, I just want them to know I am competent.  When I get amped about something it's usually when I think someone is treating me like I don't know what I'm doing or they clearly don't know what they are doing and it impacts me or someone/something I care about.  I don't want someone to dislike me but I don't control how other people feel me so I actively try not to worry about it.  I know my intention, I know what I mean, and I know that communication is fraught with misunderstanding no matter how well I do it.  I also believe that time on target tends to increase understanding of motives and intention.  Lastly I believe in the adage, 'show, don't tell.'  So no, I don't want to go to happy hour or dinner at the boss' house. I don't want to be friends. People get it twisted when they think you are friends.  Let's be what we are first; co-workers.  If we end up friends, great, if not, great too.  Maybe it's easier for me to feel that way because I have very low threshold for....

Socializing

It. is. exhausting.  Once in a while I buy a random trash magazine that I started reading in the check out line at the grocery store.  You know, the ones with '5 Sexy Moves You Can Try Tonight!' (with the boyfriend I don't have), '10 common diet mistakes,' and endless quizzes to tell me who I am and horoscopes to tell me when to ask for that raise and which Hollywood men I'll never meet have compatible star signs.  There was some quiz in the back about what kind of party girl I was.  I scored 'Sorta Standoffish' and was warned that I had no idea what kind of bitchy vibes I was unintentionally sending off.    I'm actually pleased if the vibe comes across as bitchy instead of terrified.  Makes me feel less vulnerable.  This was a revelation to me when I was 25 because I didn't know that my shyness and dislike of socializing in large groups came across as stuck up.  Now, I just avoid it when I can and roll with it when I have to.  I probably won't make friends at the party but if I do, it will probably be with someone who also does not want to be there.  Within 30 seconds of conversation commencement, I'm trying to figure out how to end it gracefully and go be by myself somewhere before I'm pulled out the dance floor or offered a shot or anything else that prolongs interaction with people I don't know (and reflexively don't trust).

So this week, I'm a pretty, militant, bitch with a sexy walk.  Not bad, not bad.

Junk Mail

This is filler, junk mail until I come here again with more intention and less anger. I've been so intensely angry the last few days that I can't even have a normal conversation without descending into a tirade of expletives and empty threats. I am outraged and exhausted with rage. I want incompetence to be punishable by death. I want people to feel they are literally taking their own life into their hands when they are fucking with the substance of other people's lives. But who would want to work for government then, right? Where would we be without a disenfranchised and disinterested clerk at the DMV, Social Services, every other government office we need to navigate the hoops we are charged with jumping through if we want to be law abiding citizens? Complete and utter bullshit. Instead of thinking about the holidays, I'm busy adding people to my 'dead to me (and kind of wish they didn't exist)' list. Open letter to the unethical fuckers I'm dealing with right now: In my version of It's a Wonderful Life, people would be getting paid, no one would arbitrarily dick around with my money and a competent person would be doing this job instead of you. Every time a bell rang, another incompetent person would be replaced by a competent one. It would be a wonderful life indeed. You would be homeless and yours would not be a sad story of a person down on their luck, you would very much deserve your station in life because you are not smart and you lack moral conviction and common sense. You are awful. Just awful. I feel I am really really close to completely flipping my shit at work...baby Jesus help me.

If

'If' is a funny word. All conditional words (maybe, if, perhaps) when used to convey intention without action are. Like all that is keeping me on the other side of the thing I might do is an external circumstance. It's totally appropriate in the sentence, 'if my ankle was not broken, I would walk without a cast' but not appropriate in this sentence, 'if my ankle was not broken, I would have run that marathon,' like all that was holding me back from a marathon was the unfortunate broken ankle thing. In real life, I've never really wanted to run at all, much less a marathon. Running a marathon would go on a bucket list of things that don't matter to me but are much ballyhooed by others, but not a real thing I want to do before I die.

But I do want to write a book. Or something more than this. I don't even know what it is but I want it. I want my voice in book binding. In something that is one of something, not just sad soup and the occasional funny story on the interweb. I've been using 'if' and 'when' as a stall, like something other than me is responsible for working through the process of creating this thing without knowing what it is, how long it will take, or even really why I want it. I see through 'if' and 'when' when I hear others use it the way I've been using it on myself. If/When I have time, I'll work out, When I have time, I'll take care of myself, If he/she did 'x', I would do 'y'. The truth is, I have time to write. Time is finite and I do have obligations but I don't think I'll be getting a blank check of unlimited minutes for life anytime soon. My father, finally retired talks about all these things he would do but still there isn't enough time. It's not really all about the time. It never has been. It's a good reason, a significant variable, but it's not the real obstacle or reason why so many dreams wait. Often it is fear that something that really matters (to you) might not work out; that there is a devastating shoe waiting to drop. Sometimes it's a trade; security for uncertainty, daydreaming for reality, ignorance instead of disillusionment (for the record, it is not a bad thing to lose your illusions, to trade mythology for fact). For me, it is all of those things and the challenge of Newton's first law.* I do rest real well and my momentum is easily sidetracked.

But I do want to write a book. This morning I started composing the acknowledgements page of my book in my head, thinking of all the people I would thank, scripting the prose in my head, amused with myself that I was creating an acknowledgements page in my head for a book that doesn't exist. Oh well, have to start somewhere right? Happy Thanksgiving all (three of you)!


*Object that is at rest will stay at rest unless an unbalanced force acts upon it. An object that is in motion will not change its velocity unless an unbalanced force acts upon it

I know you're there God, please stop screening my calls

I knew the storm was coming. I knew the disgust and adrenaline of Wednesday night would wear off and then I would just be in a funky mood. And so it has been this weekend. I know this will pass but right now I want to be mad and sad at the Universe, at God, at cheating men, and the energy it takes to tuck my hope back away somewhere in my head that it doesn't bother me everyday. I am happy alone and I don't care to be jerked around with the alternative which in the beginning is ridiculously intoxicating. That is not a good feeling. I was lacking nothing and then my head was spiked with heroin and then left to withdraw. Asshole. I watched this thing on TV last night about a woman who called herself Miranda who formed these very close relationships with celebrities on the phone. She would cold call them and somehow engage them in conversation and it would build from there into a very intimate relationship. She would describe herself as an attractive leggy blond which kept the men's interest but then she truly hooked them in by mining their souls and building a very deep bond with them. One of the men interviewed insisted on meeting her and said something that went through me like a hot iron. He said he hoped she was what he wanted physically because he knew she was everything he ever wanted in every other way. I don't have the prose to sort that out right now but it spoke to me. It was every boy in high school I ever wanted who didn't want me back that way. He would share his dreams and fears with me and give his love to someone else (such that love in high school resembles love at all). He (all of them) just never saw me that way. *Sigh* So that's what we're having today, sad soup.

Random

It's funny to me to have a conversation wherein we both talk about how much we hate people in general and don't like socializing. I guess the 'except with you right now' is implied but it's still a funny conversation to have.

Post-date epilogue 1

Last night was a flurry of text messages and phone calls one of which came from a dear friend of mine who struck the perfect balance of outrage, support, and humor in the dark hilarity of my life right now.  Before my head even got a chance to go there he told me it wasn't my fault and I wasn't a homing beacon for assholes and philanderers.  He has a sensitivity to him that makes him an ideal man girlfriend.       When life is ridiculous, he has often been someone who just makes me giddy with laughter in a ridiculous conversation.  I'm lucky to have a constellation of friends to lean on and I'm lucky to have so many great married men (who until yesterday I just called friends) in my life who haven't asked me out or tried to sleep with me.  Totally took it for granted I guess since I'm not generally a hotly pursued woman by anyone much less a married man and haven't run into the issue before.  But this is a year of firsts so why not this too. Why not indeed.

It was awkward today.  I was initially inclined to avoid the common areas for fear of running into him but then I reminded myself I had done nothing wrong and I didn't need to hide.  I rounded a corner and (of course) ran into him, said hi and kept moving.  He followed me into the breakroom.  I couldn't believe it.  I did not speak to him and avoided even looking in his direction.  The last thing he said to me before we parted ways last night was that he would ask me to coffee again and I told him he could do what he wanted, my answer would be no.  As time passes and I process this event, I get increasingly agitated with having to use my energy to nut up and get sub-par coffee from our shitty breakroom because this asshole won't accept no for an answer.  As a general rule, I don't like to waste time being angry with people who don't matter to me because it's an emotional investment they don't deserve.  But if he is going to insist on remaining in my field of vision, he might find himself caught up in a perfect storm on a day when the nuclear option is on the table and I feel invested in fucking his shit up.

It's easy and not incorrect to see this cheating mofo as violating the sanctity of his marriage.  He's masquerading as a single man and in pursuit of single women.  But I think it's probably more common for infidelity to occur between people who know each other; ex-boyfriends/girlfriends, co-workers, friends within your couples network...  Further I don't think any relationship is fully immune to the threat of infidelity.  Not because of some bullshit evolutionary theory on how men aren't built to be monogamous but because relationships are hard and it's near impossible to get everything you wish for in a life partner packaged in one person.  And we do take relationships for granted once we are in them, forgetting how hard it is to find someone you can live with that has enough intersections on values, goals, attraction, and temperament to make a go of it.  Hell, it's hard to have a roommate, much less someone you sleep with every night.

Not unlike the stock market, you can be in a relationship recession for a good spell and things are real tight and almost totally devoid of the starry-eyed fun that got you hooked.  For years.  Riding the volatility of the market is not easy and if you take the short view, it's almost impossible not to take your money and run.  Based on what I've observed of my parent's marriage and other marriages, those playing the long game are fairly matter-of-fact about their commitment to one another, not really mentioning words like 'happy' or 'fun' like their commitment to one another is terribly vulnerable to how either one of them feels on a particular day.  We're married for life, the end*.   That's not to say everyone makes good decisions on who to spend their lives with and many, many people could stand to cut their losses or just go the scarf knitting/cat collection route (as I plan to).  I think marriage is a commitment but it's not jail so if you are unfulfilled enough or unhappy enough to actively pursue other people, nut up and cut bait or shut up and get to working on your marriage.

*I am assuming these are marriages without extraordinary circumstances (i.e. physical/emotional/sexual/drug abuse...etc)

(Shit) Bucket List

What a relief.  Now I can cross going on a date with a married man off my list.  What a night.  I suppose I could have jumped up and walked off after he told me but that's not me.  I can take a punch like a pro.  It's only later that I get introspective and fucked up in the head over it, wondering what the hell is wrong with me that I'm the magnetic north of douchebags. (btw, I just spent five minutes figuring out if I spelled douchebags correctly).  If he hadn't been married, it would have been right up there in the top 2 of the 3 dates I've been on in my life.  It was surreal.  I would be dishonest if I didn't admit a part of me enjoyed denying him and having a very calm, cordial matter-of-fact discussion about how I really was never going to go out with him again. The man expected a fucking ribbon for being honest on our first date.  I told him I would have preferred he not ask me out at all.  How does he think admitting you are an asshole who cheats on his wife is a redeeming quality?  "Hey, I told you I was married instead of lying to you so...can we go out again?"  A part of me wants to be offended for being picked as someone presumably stupid enough to reward his honesty with continued contact.  But whatever.  My suspicions of something being amiss were validated and that's not bad either.  I don't hate men, I'm resisting hating them anyway.  I'm just fucking over them right now.

Just a little bit racist

The guy who asked me to coffee is Arab--or possibly Persian--he's taking Arabic (different dialect than what he speaks) but the point is he's not from around here.  Or maybe he is.  With the exception of the Native Americans, I guess we're all not from around here.  I started thinking in the space between the invitation and when we actually plan to have this coffee and that is never a good thing.  This is why I hate making plans; space for things to change, time to create expectations that will be dashed, time to become increasingly spastic.  I'm not nervous really but I just wonder what his story his and why he just asked me to coffee like that.  It was so matter of fact the way he asked me, I wonder if it might be something other than what it appears to be.  I mean who does that anymore?  Just asks a girl out for coffee in a public place like a perfect gentleman?  I've only ever seen it like that in a movie.  Weirdo.

I (naturally) considered that he might be interested in me and then I wondered all sorts of ignorant things; does he already have a family overseas and looking for another wife? will he find my dress offensive?  will he consider my liberal use of curse words when driving (or whenever) disgusting?  is he a part of a sleeper cell?  would he have a sense of humor about that last question?  am I going to have to be on the DL about Jesus and stuff?  Yes, I know he asked me to coffee but I just don't understand why.  I've seen him maybe two times and before Monday, the most I had talked to him was in the elevator when he asked if there was parking in the building.  45 seconds tops.  Weird, weird, weird.  Guys are weird.

I'm really showing my (racist, ignorant) ass here reader(s) and I know it.  I thought back to a conversation I had with a guy in college who didn't believe in interracial dating and I remembered how disgusted I was with his nonsense rhetoric yet here I am before even sitting down to have a conversation with this guy being a complete idiot.  I thought I was open minded to the point of actively seeking someone different but turns out, it's way easier when you don't have to bridge a cultural gap.  It's also way easier when you don't get 2 days to think about something.  To his credit, he was on point today waiting around for me so he could confirm a day for us to get coffee.  I was willing to leave it up to chance but he was having none of that.  It was cute.  He seemed a little nervous.  Tomorrow I hope to get a sense of who he is and whether there will be anything beyond coffee followed by a couple of weeks of awkwardness in the breakroom after he bails or I bail.

When I wasn't being just a little bit racist, I thought about his kind eyes and wondered if it was possible this could be completely lovely.  Then I freaked out some more because I wasn't sure if the made up relationship in my head was worth the freedom I would be ceding to it.  Yea, he would do well to not get tangled up in this mess but he is also presumably single so wonder what his deal is.  Does he think I'm a rap video girl? Is he just looking for a girl with good birthing hips?  Is he just a player? Is he an idiot like me?  More to come....wish us luck. Or just wish him luck.

I come by it honestly

I was asked out to coffee by a fellow language student today.  It was nice to be asked out by someone who wasn't homeless, driving, operating, or otherwise affiliated with public transportation, or on street sweeping detail.  It was nicely executed and seemingly spontaneous but unmistakably about expressing interest in seeing me somewhere other than the break room.  During our brief chat we talked about the challenge of getting a good picture of the moon and I mentioned I had been out over the weekend trying to do just that and he said 'you'll have to show me those pictures.'  I understand now, thanks to Ashley that I should NOT bring my pictures in.  He is not actually interested in my shitty amateur night time photography of leaves and bright white spots that I wish looked more like a moon and less like a headlight.  But before I talked to her I was actually working out in my head whether I would print one out or just bring my camera in.  I had already said in jest I would bring them in and he could pretend to be interested in them but I still actually had a genuine interest in discussing my unremarkable photography.  Silly girl.  Not long after that conversation, I got an e-mail from my dad with pictures of their backyard.  The sun was breaking through the trees in a beautiful starburst and I recognized I come by my tree photography obsession honestly.  Yes, an apple-tree reference occurs to me but I'm trying to show some restraint.

In other un-related news, my instructor showed me her bra today.  Like really showed me her bra and gave me a description of the matching underwear in lieu of a showing.  In the classroom.  I'm close to tapping out on being incredulous when it comes to her wildly unpredictable nature but this just seems worth mentioning.  I'll chalk it up to a heady combination of personality, culture, and her apparent lack of girlfriends to share that kind of stuff with.  Sometimes I wonder if she's trying to see if I am gay or bi-curious or something.  It's just weird.   I'm thinking they have some pretty classic gender roles there and being Liz Lemon-esque (cerebral and not overtly sexual) means you probably like girls in their culture.  I don't know.  Guess I'll find out when I get there if it's just her or if all the women there will be strangely inappropriate.  Should be fun for all.

Working theories

I hate most new things

  

I have a hate reflex and it's for most new things or people I encounter. That's not a 100 percent true, I'm polite but wary with everyone and go from there, usually landing on indifferent, aware of why we're not friends but not spending any spare time thinking about it.  Just like everyone, I do instantly click with the occasional person but that is very occasional.  I rarely 360 on many things I don't initially like but with people in particular, I've been pleasantly surprised with what I learn to like about a person I initially hated when forced to deal with them.  Maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome aka 'love the one you're with,' or maybe I need to dial down the volume on my haterade.  I think it's the former; my haterade has kept cray-cray out of my life and the people I didn't like initially, informal polling suggests many other people don't like them for the same reasons I initially put them on my dead to me list.  This means my friends get to poke fun at me after I become BFF with someone I explained at length all the things I didn't like about them but let them have their fun.  Haterade makes everything taste better.

What a difference a church makes

I saw Corey on Sunday.  He was in a suit and on his way to church.  I don't know why that threw a kink into what I wanted to think about him but it did.  I don't know what difference it makes but I do know it makes a difference.  It's just so weird to see a man going to church alone.  Makes me wonder.  It doesn't make him more attractive to me, it actually makes him less attractive to me which kind of makes me sad for the woman I used to be.  That woman would praise the Lord that a church going man moved in next door.  This woman wonders where the bodies are buried.  Oh sweet innocence, I miss you so sometimes.

He may not always know but he's never in doubt

Speaking of haterade my would-be boss is an irritant before he even speaks.  I'm so over him already.  Maybe I'll come out on the other end liking him but he is not baseline likable.  

Morning person

God help me, I have become a napping fool.  I'm up around 5 am, no later than 0545 and it doesn't matter if I go to bed at 7 pm the night before, I get home from language class and I feel like I'm walking with weights strapped to my legs.  Nap time.

I'm glad no one's here

I love being alone.  A lot.  Maybe it's just reflexive after sharing a small space for a year with Ashley but I get why it's harder to chose someone to spend the rest of your life with when you are older.  For someone to be special enough to allow your life to be tossed into chaos is something.                             

It started with the boots

I bought the best pair of boots last week.  They were fairytale boots, I didn't think such a comfortable flattering pair of boots could exist in my universe yet they did.  Today in what appeared to be karmic vandalism, there appeared a split in the thin suede that instantly darkened the sky around my eyes.  I'm not sure what I was getting comeuppance for but for the only pair of boots I have actually loved to split in an unstressed area less than a week after I purchased them just feels personal in a way that has me wondering how I might have angered the shoe spirits.

Happy Hour, e.g. Familiarity DOES breed contempt

God why do they call it that?  It's just people drinking before dinner.  I attended a mandatory one today with my future bosses and assorted other people headed for the fair isles of wtf-izstan.  My gut, which had I listened to, I wouldn't be learning tenses that don't exist in English, told me I am going to hate these people, especially the people I work for.  One is arrogant beyond description and dripping with irony with gems like insisting we take cabs if we get shit faced with the locals overseas after tucking into his 4th beer with a clear intention of driving home after the happy hour.  The other reminds me of a cross between Niles Crane from Frasier and Niles Crane from Frasier.  Boy-ish frame with a very young face that belies his age, crosses his legs in a way I find unsettling for men, swims in his shirts, very clean and smartly pressed.  I get absolutely no sense of who he is.  I suspect he will be a nervous ruthless type; he'll bother you with minutiae when he's not confident in your  ability and bury you if you dismiss him and anything goes wrong.

I hope I'm wrong.  I'm not always right about these things and in this case, I want to be really wrong.

Catching up

Seriously blog, I really didn't think I would spend less time with you but I guess that's what I get for thinking.  I'm not sure if it's because I have less time alone and I tell other people the things I used to write here or I always have homework to do which makes me feel like I shouldn't use my mental energy writing, or it's just a dry spell.  I come up with things on my walks with Baloo that perish before I can get inside to write them down.  Vignettes will have to do.

Corey

Corey moved in last week while I was ovulating.  Ovulation is a woman's beer goggles and in my advanced childbearing years, I swear on a puppy paw I've noticed a difference in how I look at men when I'm being drugged by my body to consider mating.  Corey has an action figure body and the first time I talked to him at length was in the elevator.  He was wearing combat boots, black cargo pants and a holster and I totally drank him in from the floor up.  It was almost harassment.  I kept running into him that night and by the time I went to bed, I had already texted my sister, e-mailed a friend, and wondered how he kissed.  I was on fire in class the next day, full of that radiant heat of possibility. My teacher said whatever he was doing to me, it was definitely good for my head. Less than a week later, he's dead to me and I couldn't be more pleased with myself.  If he's not the first guy, he's the first guy I can remember ever forcing out of my daydreams into my real life.  I'm an awesome daydreamer so naturally he didn't stack up but I still invited him over for dinner and got his number.  I got semi-dissed in that he stopped by for a plate only and didn't return the plate for 3 days but that's all good to know.  He made the dead to me list because of what he is, not because I imagined him out of contention.  And I lived even though he's not interested in me.

Babies

Is there anything better than someone else's baby?  I guess if you have kids of your own you might choose them over someone else's baby but since I don't have kids, someone else's baby is where it's at for me.  I love the potential of infants, the knowing them before they know themselves, the stupid joy that comes from seemingly figuring something out like their bowel movement face versus their about to get upset face.  They are an enigma wrapped in a riddle and they are tiny terrorists, bringing full grown rational accomplished adults to weeping and gnashing of teeth all before they are even aware they exist.  Babies are horrifyingly powerful and frighteningly fragile.  I'm sure if I ever have children, they will be a tremendous time suck and I will miss my life before them at the same time I become overwhelmed with how much I love them and how nothing in my life matters like the tiny non-person person who looks like me or their father torturing me through sleep deprivation and the mindless worry that plagues a fatigued mind.  That day may or may not come.  I've been passive on the subject of children as my biological window narrows.  If I'm honest, I'm probably distrustful of what God would allow/send if I forced the issue with reproductive medicine.  My sister is strangely bothered by my attitude.  She thinks I should have kids.  She's offered to carry them for me if I can't even though I never asked or expressed an interest in forcing the issue if nature's window closes.  That messes with my head a little bit every time she says something like that.  But sitting here, thinking through my to-do list with only me stuff on it, this is okay too.

Random

It angers me that Burn Notice is still on the air when no one I know has ever watched the show.  Saturday Night Live even did a sketch on it:

Ava Sweat

Would be my name if I were a hip hop artist.  I'm just starting to realize how physically uncomfortable social situations make me.  I sweat.  A lot.  I went to deposit a check at the bank today and I was completely amped because one of the employees showed me how to deposit via their ATM's.  Armpits, groin, upper lip, check, check, check.  I wasn't passing bad checks, I'm not in default, there was no reason at all to be anxious.  To him, I probably appeared gregarious and at ease, delighted to finally have a branch nearby.   I was delighted with being able to deposit the checks but I also wanted to get the heck out of there and end the conversation.  I forgot to get money while I was there and was unwilling to go back because that would mean more social engagement and more sweating.  Parties are just a soaking pitt fest of short conversations and early departures.

I was sitting outside in the warm sun with Baloo on this beautiful fall day sweat free and feeling I could really do alright in a world with just the two of us and my friends.  Even then, some of my favorite memories don't have people in them at all; walking Baloo in the forest one sunny Christmas day, taking pictures of iced berry branches during a bitterly cold night, every single day it is warm enough to nap directly in the sun and having a spot to do so away from the hustle, watching Baloo watch and sniff the world.   I have been known to watch her sniff for 10 minutes at a time.  It's a very zen thing, watching her nose move back and forth, pinch to hold a smell for evaluation, begin anew, the occasional head raise when she catches something interesting.  I'm sure my blood pressure is in near coma stage while I watch her.  When it comes to down time, it doesn't take much to make me pretty happy and content (clearly).  It's nice to go somewhere new and see new things but if we could do anything at all, I'd rather be outside chatting and napping in the sun and if it's too hot or cold, inside watching people or watching a fire.  No sweat.

I had it pictured differently in my head

I had it all pictured differently.  This language study, my love life, my dog.  In my head Baloo was a beagle named Doozer.  I even had an engraved tag with that name on it.  My would-be husband and I would be well over a decade into an amazing partnership; we would be perfect for one another but flawed enough that I didn't worry we were so perfect it couldn't be true.  The first week, it seemed language would be challenging but fun.  Now in addition to navigating my studies, I'm navigating the volatile and emotionally immature waters of my non-teaching instructor and falling asleep at 8.  I will figure out a way back to you blogger.

Sucky Suckerson

I'm getting a lot of stuff done while in language for sure.  It's like being a full time student with half a day of study hall.  Problem is, I was never really good about studying in study hall or at all.  That's what class is for.  I study what I need reinforced from class.  In this class, that doesn't work.  We had the talk, it didn't change anything, and this week that's a problem.  We're moving on the second way to conjugate verbs in the future (of course there are several ways, why wouldn't there be) and she makes a point of drilling that the first and third person singular are conjugated the same as the present indicative blah, blah, and I told her that is no help to me when I can not conjugate the present.  Basically, she is telling me this is the same as the other thing I don't know.   Not helpful.  She told me I needed to go back to the present and learn the conjugations.  Yea, that was kind of my point in the 'I'm freaking out because we are moving on before mastery' discussion we had last week.  Not news to me that I have a lot of shit to memorize and kind of pissed with your vacillation on recognizing a) I speak ENGLISH and only ENGLISH;  b) I've been studying your language for 4 WEEKS; and c)  I speak ENGLISH.

This is a week where the bottom falls out (again) and even though I know it's going to be that kind of week, it doesn't make my attitude any less shitty.  Just once I think, I would like to be that person making yummy noises while eating a shit sandwich, going on about the journey, the growth, the privilege etc...lying to myself and others as a mind over matter exercise.  I guess the reason I'm not, aside from genetics, is those are the people in my experience that truly come unglued when they are ready or are forced to acknowledge that shit is nasty and they are not happy eating it.  It's a fine line I guess between being a 'Sucky Suckerson' as my language teacher calls me when I'm being contrarian and the bad kind of shit eating grin person.  Still, I wonder where the time goes everyday and struggle to prioritize my study when we are moving so fast that we're already building on beginning skills and concepts that I haven't even begun to recognize much less master.  It frustrates me, it angers me, it makes me want to become a language teacher so I can teach language the way I would want to learn it.

I've decided the reason I'm doing this is not for God and country (when is it ever really only about that), it's not for the money I save living overseas, it's not for career-I could stay here and do better.  It's because I'm curious.  How I got to this point has all the makings of a great story where the ending holds the great love I sometimes hope for or the life changing career moment--like meeting Tina Fey and starting a career in writing--or something equally awesom.  It's for the stories--I can't imagine I'll get out of eastern Europe without good stories, it's for the oddity of speaking a completely useless language and the trivia it will be good for.  It's for the bragging rights.  It's for the experiences that enrich my empathy for the experiences of others and inspire me to want to be better because of the hardship I don't want others to endure.  The schedule isn't bad either.

It's not that I can't, I just don't want to

These next two days will be it I think.  As Gob on Arrested Development would say, 'I've made a huge mistake.'  I'm totally unglued.  I slept most of today and now I'm right back here at 10 o'clock still not done with yesterday's homework and head thick with anxiety and escapist fatigue.  I was not getting my life errands done on the afternoon schedule but the morning class thing does not work for me.  It works against my brain rhythm.  I am not good for this kind of stuff in the morning.  Morning is my thinking time, not my reading out loud in a foreign language time or conjugating words I don't even understand time.  Something has to give.  I will need to be medicated for a year, I will need to muster the courage to quit, or something fairy godmother third option has to materialize.  Before the end of the week.  I'm happy to pay for this experiment out of pocket for two weeks as a mea culpa for wasting everyone's time, beyond that, I will feel compelled to stay.  I've had that 'what have I done' feeling before.  It's practically the story of my professional life, maybe my entire life.  But it gets harder with time, not easier, to put myself through the paces of another random challenge.  I just want to be left alone.

My instructor is a trip.  I always find people who declare themselves to be good at something like dancing or singing amusing.  I don't get it.  I would rather say I'm an awful dancer or even that I just like dancing rather than provide an assessment of my talent to near strangers.  Just not sure what I'm supposed to do with that information.  She's a snappy dresser and knows her way around a stiletto.  Prototypical hyper feminine and well credentialed woman.  I think the difference between me and many women are they like attention from men; they like to be appreciated physically, like to feel/look sexy, etc. I don't.  I don't want to be attractive to or noticed by men in general; I want to be noticed by one man.  But one can not have it both ways so here I sit, alone rocking the soccer shorts while my instructor puts on her makeup in thigh highs and stilettos.

"Somethings gotta give with the way I'm livin'

Seems I'm gettin' down every day.

The more I strive, the less I'm alive

And it seems I'm getting further away."

I haven't been this heartbroken about something in some time.  Hot, unspent tears behind the eyes troubled in my mind.  Frustrated, sad, mad at myself for choosing this and fairly certain that if I chose to stay the course, it will only get worse.  I'm am exhausted from fighting myself.  Exhausted. And it's still a draw.  I can't keep seeing how I feel by the end of the week before I add my own addendum to quitters never win; quitters know when to cut their losses and go on to something they can win at.  I don't want to match wits and be verbally wrestled in a foreign language.  I don't want to want to choke out an instructor who amubshed me in the coffee room.  I don't want to talk about myself more in a foreign language than I do in English.  I don't want to make up plans for my weekend because it is unacceptable to say I don't have any.  Again, I just want to left alone.

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I started this post two weeks ago.  The third option has not materialized but I have had 'the talk' with my instructor which served only to go on record as being an unhappy camper as she didn't plan on adjusting how she teaches to suit my learning style.  In her words, 'I'm sorry boo, but that's just the way it is.'  I'm not sure if she calls me 'boo' because I'm black or just calls everyone that.  So there is still suffering but it is no longer in silence.  Brave faces are overrated and there is just too much to absorb to bother with one during this process.  Seems most if not all of us are dealing with the same emotional roller coaster as well. Nothing in academic language study prepares you for the hell of one on one language.  It doesn't even matter what language, the bottom falls out of your world every 2-3 weeks.  I came in today to see my colleague (and future boss) had illustrated this process by drawing stairs with long plateaus.  The plateaus had giant gaps which we all fall through and seemingly start from scratch.  So this is language and this is my life for the near future.  I knock on wood but I think I've come in from the window ledge and committed to seeing this ridiculous through.  God help me.  Seriously, God, sincerely looking for an assist here.  Would love that beautiful, smart, funny man if that can be managed as well.  You know who I'm thinking of.

Nevermind

I know what I said a couple of posts back about not questioning the journey once the challenge has been accepted but sometimes I'm wrong.  I'm over it.  The only thing I like about my life right now is the ability to get stuff done during the day because I'm not at work.  Everything else is a lonely frustrating verb conjugating, gender/article/number agreement hell.  I'm full circle back to America, fuck yea, speak English.  When you become the center of commerce and science, we'll speak your language.  Until then, I've got a smart phone with internet and Google translate.  You'll probably speak English; I'll get by with Google when you don't.

So this post won't be about growth and accepting professional dares because they sound cool or you're bored.  It will be about the courage of quitting.  Of letting yourself down and letting others down and realizing nobody dies when that happens.

Street Fair

'If I see you again, I'm going to attack and harass you.'  Might be the best thing anyone has said to me since I moved here.  I was a little worried when I left Philly I was leaving all the kooky fun and random encounters with strange people behind.  Not so.  That gem of a line above came courtesy of a visiting construction worker from New York who insisted even though he said 'attack' and 'harass' instead of 'say hello' or 'ask you out', he meant me no harm and my ninja would not be necessary.  Per Ronnel, that's how they say it in New York and it does not mean I should get some pepper spray in anticipation of our next encounter.  Phew!  Glad he cleared that up for me.  How awkward would that have been?  He'd be trying to rock his attack and harass mac and I would be bear-macing him and screaming.  I know I was sending somewhat mixed signals because I was smiling so broadly during his awful alarming pickup attempt but I just couldn't help it.  It was that awfully good.  Even better, this was after I told him I had a boyfriend.   Thanks Ronnel.  You were even better than the white lady with a little white dog who commented when Baloo barked, 'Well you know, big black dog, little white dog...' and trailed off like I knew something about the race wars between (colorblind) white and black dogs.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child

And shortly after I turned 36, I returned to speaking like a child.  I never thought learning a language would be so emotional.  I never thought I would get frustrated like a child just starting to talk. Every child has to cross that bridge between gesturing, sounds that mean words they would say if they could, and actual words.  There are tears on that bridge, meltdowns when a parent guesses wrong and the kid screams bloody murder because they are frustrated that they can't get their point across.  That's how I feel right now.  I can't be me in this language.  I can't say what I would say, I can only say what I know how to say and naturally after just one week, my repertoire consists of robot phrases; good morning, good night, thank you, the weather is ____, the date is _____.  Almost every piece of electronics I own can say or write these things. In at least 2 languages.

I'm feeling constrained both by my lack of vocabulary and ability to communicate but also by my imagination.  I can not conceive a day when I can even count in this language.  Wish I had the 3 years to learn that I had when learning how to count as a kid.  This process is like being introduced to numbers on Tuesday, doing a couple of multiplication tables on Wednesday, long division on Thursday, and Calculus on Friday.  Every night I want to sit down and figure out numbers to some level of mastery but I also feel a pressure to keep up with the Calculus because we are for sure moving on to theoretical physics.  I'm having mini-freakout meltdowns on the regular and it's only been a week.  So that's what this will be.  An emotional and educational journey.  Tantrums are to be expected.  After all, this process is taking away my words.

Some random false starts...

from a few weeks ago that I felt like publishing....unfinished and unlikely to ever be finished but I wanted Lodo to at least know I wrote him an open letter.

14 September

Forgotten but not gone

 I've missed you blog. This move has been especially disruptive for writing which is a shame because I'm frankly constipated with all the shit I've been wanting to sit down and sort out. There was the joy of camping out on the air mattress after the movers came, the final messy disjointed Beverly Hillbillies Clampett-loaded car roll out of Philadelphia, the initial separation anxiety over the culture shock of returning to the D.C. metro area, the unpleasant spade work of searching for a place to live, the move in, the power outage, the Soul Twin departure, and today, the 6 hour road trip to Philly and back to tie up that last loose end.

On the subject of today's road trip, I didn't want to do it. I was a little emotional about it really last night when Ashley texted she couldn't unscrew the coax cable on the modem I forgot to return with my cable box. It was my issue and my fault for overlooking it. Still I hoped to get some pay it forward return on investment for all the things I think I do for people just because. *Cue self-righteous martyr mode* Maybe I'm not as considerate as I think I am and only hear what I want to believe about myself but if what I spend my time thinking of is any indication of my priorities, professionally, I obsess over how to get things done and how to help people get things done. That does not seem to be the case for most of the acquaintences I made in Philly and it certainly isn't the case for my family.

Though it's not good material, I have a desire to vent and be vindictive about it. Moving is stressful and I'm off for sure. I feel vulnerable and sad and alone and then I feel strong, amazing, proud and fully capable of taking care of myself. I'm sure my Prius can tow, but it's not built for towing and it will take its toll. That's how I feel today about not coupling. I look at lovely Baloo and her confident well mannered and balanced approach to life; she isn't afraid of anything, she's wonderful and predictable with people and children, she considers every open door to be an invitation. Except as it concerns other dogs. She is anxious around them and projects aggression as a means to protect herself. She grows tall, fur stands up, posture is erect, and she is about the business of letting the other dog know she's in charge and won't accept them as dominant. It they want to test her, she will flip out, say some nasty things in whatever language dogs speak and commence the mount and/or stealing of toys/warm visitation with the owner of the other dog. I look at her and I see myself. Minus the mounting and taking of toys.

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Dear Lodo

I keep composing this in the car or in the shower or while out walking the dog or doing anything that prevents me from writing this down when I know what I want to say and how I want to say it. I addressed this post to you because you are the person with whom I've had the most consistent dialogue on here and you are the only person I don't know who reads regularly. Not only is that encouraging because someone who has no sense of personal obligation/relationship to me is reading, but also because I admire your talent for storytelling and insight. It is hard to tell a good story and you do a great job.

It's been a long month Lodo. I moved, then helped a friend move. I wallowed in a bit of a sad sack feeling not at all helped by my abandonment of exercise and the routine I had going. I'm up late, up early, I'm watching hours of TV, it's spiraling into a full out funk. It's an act of will to bathe. I can't sleep until I do and I won't do it until I'm so tired I ache. I've been thinking a lot of the guy, the guy from over a decade ago who isn't really a guy anymore. He's more a representation of what I thought that had the potential to be. I think he's somewhere in the D.C. metro area and I keep bracing to run into him. I haven't run into the same person twice in the apartment complex I'm living in right now, not sure why I'm bracing to run into that guy.

Challenges: Abstract and Actual

There are many things I believe I'd like to do someday. Having children, rock climbing, writing a book, a safari, visiting Alaska (during a Palin off-season), skydiving... It's not quite a bucket list, I wouldn't be devastated if most of those never happened but if the opportunity presented, those are some of the things I think I would like doing. Learning a language was on that list too. Something about being in on the secret, being an insider to the code of communication somewhere outside of America has always appealed to me. Old Boss would be on the phone sometimes with his parents speaking his mother tongue and I just loved it. I loved it but it also frustrated me because I wanted in. I wished there were some way I could understand what he was saying. Now I have that opportunity and it's daunting. I was thinking this evening about the big talk before the expedition on every documentary ever made; the thirst for knowledge, exploration, good of mankind...blah, blah. Then the journey begins and there's suffering,unexpected challenges, setbacks, pain and exhaustion, worry. Then the questions. Is it worth it? Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove? But none of that matters once the challenge is underway. The challenge has been accepted. I can still ask those kinds of questions but they are completely irrelevant now. Now it is time for choices. I can chose to forge ahead, I can chose to quit. I can chose to spend precious energy lamenting that the one language I chose to study is the only remaining romance language with three genders or I can devote time to learning them even though I not so secretly think if you're the last language standing using three genders for nouns maybe you hold on to dying trends too tightly. What I will say is that it takes a special kind of person to teach a language. Not only in skill but in patience. I could not listen to an adult learn how to read English slowly and deliberately, sucking every word and ever sentence dry of its meaning be-ca-use e-ve-r-y l-e-t-t-e-r is r-ea-d l-i-k-e t-h-i-s. Stay in school kids, stay in school. Literacy is a gift.

Transition

I have a Soul Twin. She was the only person in my life who had near unlimited time for me; no kids, no significant other. The person you could always count on to call back the same day. I don't resent other friends with their spouses and kids and hobbies (i.e., lives) but I know they don't have time to hang out with me on the phone while I pick out my clothes and walk my dog or browse the internet virtually with me while I look for shoes and clothes. Soul Twin did. Soul Twin also picked my brother up from the airport when my mom was in the hospital even though she had never met him and watched my dog even though she had two cats and a concussion. Until last Saturday, we talked almost every single day and often several times a day, sharing funny circumstances, consulting on purchases, passing the time while stuck in traffic or cleaning house. As is her custom when starting a new job, Soul Twin has completely fallen off the radar. If she were a plane, it would already be a search and rescue mission as there has been no sign of life since I talked to her as she was boarding her flight. It might be one of my least favorite things about her but no one is surprised to have not heard from her.

Now I have oceans of empty space where there was once conversation and no one to talk to. At least not with the intimacy that comes from long conversations about everything from the random text I got from some guy to when I'm finally going to schedule that surgery I've needed for years. Old Boss and I have been keeping up fairly regularly but there is a part of writing him that makes me sad and frustrated. I don't want to be good friends with married men while I'm unattached. There is nothing untoward about our friendship. It just frustrates me because what I have with Old Boss and all the other guys I'm friends with, I want in my own boyfriend. Doesn't mean I'll stop having men as friends but I want the first person I want to share something gut busting with to be mine. I don't want to derive my joy in life from a random e-mail from Old Boss or a text message from a friend. It is bratty to reject the places I mine for joy since joy is completely optional in life but I can and I do. It's not enough. I want more. I needed this nothing buffer before I got busy again but it's clear my mind is not healthy on idle. Doesn't help I haven't been to the gym either.

Being back in D.C. has me a little messed up in the head right now as well. Last time I checked in an ill-advised late night reckless Facebooking incident, 'the one that got away' was now residing in the D.C. metro area. D.C. is a place you run into people you haven't seen in decades all the time; in the hallway, in the metro, in a meeting. It's the seat of government, it's the Headquarters for everyone. If your past will meet you anywhere, it will meet you in D.C.. Right before I left 3 years ago, I ran into someone from college at the grocery store. They had been living down the street from me. I ran into someone I last saw as a teenager on the escalator of the Metro. That's the D.C. metro area. The potential exists. I don't know if seeing him again would wreck me or heal me but in the idle thought space before starting language, I wonder about it everytime I leave the house. Good thing language starts Monday.

My philosophy remains that transitions suck. I don't anticipate ever savoring the journey and the space between broken and healed, the chaos of trying to organize your old life in a new space, it's just not me. But I think I will keep forcing upheaval into my life, pulling up stakes, throwing my life into disarray simply because for me, it is more interesting than sitting still. If I were to indulge myself and sit still, I think it would be my undoing for sitting still is my default. If I didn't have a dog, I could easily not leave my house for days. Speaking of leaving the house, the lab is moments from silently guilting me with her intense brown eyes to use my opposable thumbs for good and take her outdoors where we have mutually agreed is the best place for her to use the bathroom. Thank God for her. I would be 500 pounds and even more socially isolated were it not for her.

Jon Benjamin Has a Van

And he makes me smile with nonsense like this:

http://vimeo.com/27177331

Optional vs Obligatory

I've been thinking this morning on the stress of commitment and why the older I get, the less I want to commit to anything optional, even something as benign as lunch. It's becoming a thing with me, a 'quirk' which is a nice way of saying an irritating personality trait, that I need an escape hatch for any social/optional activities and I avoid making those kinds of plans if at all possible. Before I stopped making social plans or commitments, it wasn't unusual for me to flake on them, canceling at the next to last minute. Most of the time it was because it didn't seem worth the trouble and I felt I would get more satisfaction from attacking my to-do list than I would from hanging out. That felt terrible and pissed off my friends so I just decided it was better for us both that I just not make plans. Nobody expects me there so no one is disappointed. Or maybe now they are just disappointed that I don't make plans with them. Being friends with me is disappointing one way or another. I am however, good for the spontaneous adventure. If I don't have time to dread it and the moons are just right, I'm your girl. Again, not understanding why I have any friends at all and why the friends I have are so incredible. Probably takes someone exceptional to dig all that is Ava enough to put up with the extra delightful stuff like rare visits and inability/unwillingness to make plans to do the same. Having my girlfriends (most of them) on the east coast has been awesome because I don't have to plan. I just jump in the car or on the train. I can decide that morning.

I didn't grow up making optional trips so it's not something that comes naturally. The one vacation we did take when I was growing up was a shopping trip to Korea which wasn't really a kid vacation. I got some knock-off sneakers that fell apart and smelled like death after I wore them in the rain and my mom bought a lot of shoes. Before we left on that trip, our neighbor's plumbing backed up into our tub and it felt like a sign we should have never planned to leave the house. The only other family trip was every 3-4 years we would spend 30 days sitting around and eating in the stifling sticky heat of a Memphis summer shuttling between grandparents. Understandably my point of reference for vacation is the misery of the journey compounded by a stressful un-fun destination. The destination never seemed worth the journey.

But I chose my nomadic lifestyle because I want to experience new things and places and I know that I need an obligation to force that into my life. I love the feeling of being forced into something new; the sense of adventure and possibility, the potential, the people, the experiences. But I know I'm not the person who will endure the cost, discomfort, and disruption to see the world on my own time and on my own dime. There is a part of me I think that needs to abdicate some of the responsibility for my own happiness, that needs a fall guy for my misery or an excuse not to try to have fun and I get that through obligations. The must-do is my security blanket from the potential disappointment of could-do. Maybe I expect too much from fun or as Lodo has pointed out, think other people are having a much better go of it than I am. There is always an obligation or a task on the to do list that seems like a good enough reason to not go to some faraway place that might not even be fun.

Maybe I'm more delicate and sensitive, so the stress of the journey bloodies me more than most. Maybe I'm just lazy. I just know all misfortune encountered during optional excursions feel like punishment for being somewhere I didn't have to be. Misfortune encountered during obligatory trips doesn't really distress me as much, it's part of the challenge of getting through a task and it's not optional so I don't have any sense of 'if only I hadn't come to this place, if only I had booked this earlier, if only whatever...' Everything I experience outside of the mandatory reason I'm there is lovely. Some of my favorite moments are on the margins of obligatory trips. Walking the beach in Savannah, GA (training exercise), the sunrise on the beach in Florida on my birthday (training), napping in the sun in San Diego (conference), visiting Michigan (training exercise), having diwaniya (kind of a picnic kind of gathering) in Kuwait (deployment), the Grand Canyon (work trip). When my mother visited me in Arizona, we didn't go to the Grand Canyon because it didn't seem worth the drive. I know it sounds ridiculous to be within hours of one of the great wonders of the world and think, eh, it's 5 hours away and it's only one thing, how grand could it be? Worth a 10 hour round trip drive? Probably not. I come by my vacation calculus honestly.

Even the lovely of this time in Philadelphia has been during the exercise of my obligations. Walking the dog and running into a street fair or parade, having to find restaurants for meetings and discovering a lovely place, being forced to work with people I would never hang out with and making a great friend. I do however have a spirit of adventure in me; I've accepted a position in a developing eastern European country. There is no good reason for me to go there, I don't know anything about it and I will definitely be a stranger in a strange land. But my job is paying my freight and giving me work to do so I get to live somewhere I would definitely never ever visit. There will be some misery, both of a new place and of whatever developing nation blues there are to be had (brownouts, lack of produce, quality brands...etc) but it will be a great no pressure adventure. I have to be there, anything fun or good that comes of it is a bonus, anything bad just has be be dealt with. I like that. I think I'm much better at making good of a shitty situation; earning my happiness, appreciating the simple gifts, than I am at enjoying the things touted as a traditional good time.

Late Bloomer

If I'm lucky, I will live a long healthy life. I need the time because I arrive at the best things years after everyone else has been there, done that, and long since given away the t-shirt. I arrived at blogging after it peaked, I'll probably rejoin twitter soon just to stay behind the curve, I've not been in a grown up relationship just yet but still rocking the high school crushes like it's 1999; though I was long out of high school by then, sadly my love life was/is not. Motherhood, if it comes at all, will probably make the record books at least for whatever town I live in at the time. I have thought as recently as yesterday that it wouldn't be so bad if I had a short life either because the future could just be a long wash, rinse, repeat of what I've got going on right now and I'm already largely over it. If soul twin locks it down with someone, I will be on the periphery of every important relationship in my life and I've frankly had my fill of three wheeling and of one of the two wheels telling me I need to get over being a third.

I do wonder though sometimes. Really? I'm that bad at connecting with men or rising to a person of interest? I connect with homeless guys on the regular. What's the magic I'm working there and with other random people I don't invite into my life? I was walking in the mall a week or so ago and made passing eye contact with a guy who turned around, grabbed my arm, hugged me, held my hand, and asked if he could go home with me before I could even process what was happening. I told him I didn't know him, asked who he was, and all he had to say to me was 'can I go home with you?' When I said no, he politely kissed my hand and walked away. Seriously, eye contact can not possibly explain that can it? I make eye contact and even say hello to the various cute men of the neighborhood and most don't even return my greeting. Why only the crazies and the homeless Lord? Why are they dialed into my station and the rest of universe is only aware of my existence enough to avoid running into me on the sidewalk?

I was sitting in the window of a frozen yogurt place last week. I was people watching and occasionally the favor was returned with a 'I noticed you glance.' Then this white girl came in and she was right out of a classic (white) American beauty J Crew catalogue. Casual but well put together and seemingly crisp in the wilting heat. She ruined everything. I had been happily imagining myself as a cute girl having yogurt in the storefront window and this chick showed up and I got to watch 8/10ths of the men who walked by do double takes at her. Now I was just a chubby chick with crazy hair eating next to a pretty girl. I left in a foul mood. As I walked up the street sweaty and wilted with crazy hair, I again made eye contact from across a street with a likely homeless man. I didn't look at him again hoping to get past him when I crossed the street without being hit up for money or a strange and aimless conversation. Didn't work. He yelled at me as I walked past, not making eye contact, that he liked my hair. Jesus. Really? I told him thank you and kept walking while I'm sure people thought, yea, you've got to be crazy to like that hair buddy.

Maybe I hope now for a short life with good stories. Less time alone, more assumed potential had I lived instead of the 'wow, made it all the way to 90 without ever having a significant other or doing or being anything different that you were at 35, 25, even 15.' Yea, I'm liking that; good stories that will remain novelties because they can't be repeated and scores of great things that could have been had I lived longer.

Just wanted to let you know

That I'm up too late again and tomorrow will suck accordingly. I also wanted you to know I am sowing bad karma by being cold to the new girl because she's like a nervous overcompensating unpredictable puppy. Since she isn't actually a puppy, I don't think she's cute and she doesn't get the same latitude I would give an actual puppy. My demeanor with her can best be described as permanent newspaper to the nose. Lord help me avoid her mistakes and help me strike that tone that says we're not friends but I don't hate you. Keep her from wanting to braid eachother's hair and confess all her hopes and fears but still not being shitty to her in a way that makes her feel alone in a new place.

I have the house to myself now and it's wonderful. I believe the last of Ashley's things are out and now I have the privacy and space I craved. Ashley is creating her space and I think she is happy too. I miss some of the boundaries she forced into my life, like how long I could stay up watching useless T.V.. She also distracted me from thinking about men by taking up my mental energy on being irritated with her artifacts (hair, spills, messy room), and through her presence making it impossible to have anyone over. So now it's just me by the sea and I do wish I had a hand to hold. Philly has not turned out to be the place for love I hoped it would be but when has any place ever been that place for me?

Three weeks and counting, the Philly adventure will conclude. I didn't wring out the towel on my Philly experience; a stone's throw from the theater and I never went to a play or concert, a comedy club. I met some new and different people all of which I expect I will keep in touch with as often as I do people from high school via the occasional comment on Facebook. I think I will miss more the sense of community and of being known and knowing. Knowing where to go for dry cleaning, for groceries, for walking the dog, all the little things you have to learn anew every time you move.

Somewhat related, I have already mentioned my lack of interest bordering on hostility for the obligatory going away and I just remembered that I also have a birthday coming up--double terrible. I am really becoming crotchety to the point of rudeness as it concerns suffering acquaintances seeking to celebrate milestones with me as friends. We really don't have to go out for my birthday, it makes me sad to celebrate something like that with people I don't otherwise really hang out with. I feel like I did my senior year of high school. I only went to the school I graduated from my senior year so it was kind of a tough transition. I met people and made friends but they weren't forever friends. At the end of the year, I remember someone writing or telling me that they knew I missed my friends from my old school but they hoped I had made some good friends there too. But really, I didn't. That connection just didn't happen and it wasn't anybody's fault. Same here. I spend more time on the phone with my Soul Twin than I ever spent in the company of anyone here. When it hits the fan, the people who have my back don't live here. Truthfully I'm not even around the people here enough for them to even notice I'm splattered in shit.

Which is all to say, a goodbye thingy isn't called for here. We were friendly but we weren't friends so let's not force this moment. Same goes for work. The only person in Philadelphia who I would have been hurt had he just shook my hand and wished me well has already left (Old Boss). I realize it may be a diss for anyone (if they exist) who will miss me to essentially tell them they don't matter to me the way I matter to them. I don't think that is the case here, I just think people reflexively insist on luncheons or whatever regardless of how they feel because that's just what convention calls for. Age is definitely finding me less flexible or interested in pleasing people or accommodating optional shit. Just wanted to let you know.

Things I won't miss

I love her. I miss her. But here's what I don't miss.

The Foul Towel: Ashley loves her lotions, potions, and body washes. 3-5 can be used in the same shower session (the results of which are the topic of another thing I won't miss). Ashley however is stridently against the clean rinse and wring of her washcloth. The result after a week is a cheesy smell that hits me once the stall heats up and the moisture activates and lifts the scent of her washcloth towards my nostrils. The morning I met this novelty and discovered its source was one where I wondered how long before she found her own place.

Death by moisture layer: As noted above, Ashley loves the potions and lotions and applies all generously throughout her hair and body. She often spends a few moments after her shower combing out her hair soaked in leave-in conditioner. The result of her post shower-in shower grooming is a moisture slick which has bruised my inner thigh and almost daily ended my life in a mangled naked shower tragedy.

The Hair, oh God, the hair: I would entertain a conspiracy theory that she keeps extra hair in a bag and just leaves chunks of it throughout the house. In the kitchen, in the hallway, in Silkwood exposure quantities in the shower, just every damn where.

Judge Judy/Joe Brown/Real Housewives of Anywhere at all: RIP. Will not miss coming home to you blaring out of the TV speakers while Ashley reclined outstretched on the sofa.

Sound Machine: I sleep like death once I am asleep but it must be quiet and I absolutely can not do snoring which Ashley has been known to do from time to time when she fall behind on her allergy meds. Finally bought a sound masking machine so I could fall asleep without listening to her yawn and move around in her floor covers:

The Room: Before and after pictures coming as this can not be adequately captured in words.

How to run your shit

Of course I have an opinion on this. Of course. But I only have an opinion when I observe someone not running their shit and I see them suffer as a result. As a general rule, I do not ask my bosses for anything. Nothing. I tell them. I'm not disrespectful, and I'm not even terribly strident. I try to be the kind of employee I want to supervise. I handle my shit, I manage my time, and I believe they care more about the results than how I get there. Not in an unethical way but in a pragmatic 'hundred ways to skin a cat, pick one' way. If they wanted to tell me step by step how to do my job, and there are some who do, they most certainly will. Most however, work like most things in the universe do and they chose the path of least resistance; they have shit to do too so it would be most helpful if you just do yours without tying them up into how the hot dog is made. If there is a question, it is framed as 'here's what I plan to do, how's that sound' instead of 'what should I do.' I may be wrong but it's easier to edit my idea than it is to think for me.

It is burdensome to supervise people who need direction, advice, or a sounding board for everything; people who have little sense of perspective for when something is truly important and merits supervisory attention. They think everything that bears their watermark has to perfect. That sense of integrity and attention to detail is just the person you want manning our nuclear arsenal but not the person you want putting together the monthly birthday celebration. If that type of person believes the birthday celebration is important to anyone, it will be the best damn birthday celebration their attention to the other minutiae of life allows. It will be better than anyone else is likely to pull off but still not as good as they would have liked and thus brings them little joy. It is a stupid way to live. I live stupidly in many other ways so I consider myself an authority on stupid living and feel I can say that.

My replacement seems to be this kind, the kind that outsources their initiative, distracted by what everyone else thinks instead of wanting to own her success and failure as something of her own invention. She has pinged me on so many questions of zero significance or relevance that I'm irritated in advance of even meeting her. I already don't have confidence in her ability to communicate or in her ability to triage and figure out what is going to hit the cutting room floor because it is not possible to do everything. I feel she will consult her boss for everything from what time she should go to lunch to what the policy is on leaving 15 minutes early. And here's the thing, power, even insignificant power of the kind she is yielding to her management will never be refused. If you give your boss the option of having a registered opinion on when you take lunch, they are going to feel entitled to one. But here's the rub, it will only apply to you. And eventually you will resent it because one day you will break set with his expectation and he will give you feedback that seems unfair in light of how no one else seems to be held to taking lunch at his convenience. But there are no take backs. You gave them purview over that area of your life and now they feel it is owed to them. Further, because you asked them to register an opinion on something they would not ordinarily care that much about, you just took a hit on judgement too because you seek direction others don't.


I really love to be value added, to help people, to make my work place better. I will not however, be asking my boss to run my life, personally or professionally or imply I seek that kind of direction from them. I know I'm on trial with every new person I work for and it is new boss 101 to have a guard up and project a 'prove yourself to me' vibe. I have the same guard up and the pros and cons column is being worked fiercely during every interaction. I'm I'm lucky, the work eventually bears me out and they respect me and trust my judgement and ability to handle myself. Some iteration of "self-managing" or "works well with little or no oversight", has been written on more of my evals than probably any other phrase. If more bosses cleanly laid out their expectations there would probably be less wringing of hands from the approval seeking type (not that we don't all need or want approval). But most bosses don't. That sucks but I prefer the anxiety of setting my own professional boundaries and risking correction over the anxiety of 'mother may I.'

And that's how you run your shit.

Flow

Here's how I flow; work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work-maladaptive, self-destructive, self-defeating procrastination-work, work, work, work, work, work work, work (much of which could have been less stressful if not for that maladaptive middle piece). I'm in the middle right now following a day of fairly productive list checking. I'm staying up too late and I'm not exercising. So I'm fat and restless. It's awesome. Also, I'm tired all the time because I go to bed late so at both ends of my day, beginning with the achy tired, and ending with the bleary tired, the last place I want to be is the gym. If I would take more than a day here or there to recharge, I'm sure I could probably do better but I'm not seeing that space right now. Everything is up in the air. There are decisions to be made that will settle a lot of these variables but I'm in that space where everything seems like it should be doable if everything works out perfectly. Which makes it seem like it should be done, which stresses me out. I should be able to find a house, get completely organized taking only the things I actually need and use, see everyone who wants to take me to lunch/coffee/dinner before I leave (which by the way is starting to irritate me), go to the gym regularly, keep the house spotless for the 24 hour notice showing, do my work with accuracy and dedication, and remain in a good mood throughout.

Going back to the obligatory luncheon/coffee bullshit, I grieve it terribly. Aside from old boss (OB) and a lady I've already gone to dinner with, my relationships at work don't rise to the level of anyone I'm really going to miss or who is going to miss me so much so that a formal living wake is required. So that means it is insincere which puts me in a foul mood and biting my tongue bloody not to call it what it is and send everyone back to their desks grumbling about what an ungrateful a-hole I am. The other thing that irritates me from neighbor to co-worker is the 'we've got to do something before you leave' empty remark. First of all, I don't need another damn thing to do. Let's say goodbye today because I'm not making any holes in my schedule to do something that is already above and beyond the actual level of our relationship. And those people who treat my departure like a countdown that they want to rush at the end to take me out for drink or something else I can do without them might be the most irritating of all. I have actual friends to make time for, people who want to talk to me and see me even when I'm not leaving town. Those are the people I make time for and try to figure out how/when to see. Nothing at all against what we are to each other, it's been lovely. This is just not the time to stretch that so you can interview me about moving, how I'm doing, and my future plans while "sending me off"; I've already covered that ground with the people who actually care. We both know it is unlikely you'll visit, and even more sure I won't be visiting so maybe we just wish each other well now and go back to how it normally is with you and I both getting along in life without thinking much of the other at all. I'll keep you posted on the highlights via Facebook or something.

A busy time for parents

Ashley spent her first night in her new place last night. Wonderful to have a space of my own back, sad to think of her alone and a little frightened with what she's bit off; it's the Ashley show now. Sibling parenting is challenging. :-)

More to come...just running and gunning right now.

Look at all the pretty colors

Not sure how or when it happened but I have become a purse girl. Behold:

Arg

I fucking hate tiny dogs. Just because your outside shitting barking cat weighs 10 pounds doesn't mean you don't have to train it or keep it under control on a leash. I am 2 Aleve into what promises to be a fun ride of discomfort after wiping out beautifully on the street trying to keep my dog from murdering a punk ass little dog that was not under control by the idiot walking them.

Warping the halo

Oh how it sucks to be left behind. It's like selling your house but hanging around to watch folks throw out your shit and comment on the handyman things you didn't get done.

Some other things a coat of paint won't do (vignettes from apartment hunting in the ghetto)

Remove mouse droppings from your freshly painted would-be apartment. Also won't remove dismissive landlord comment about 'well look where we are' about the downstairs neighbor's mouse sighting.

Remove ominous smokestacks from foreground of your center city view or make a feral cat colony count as evidence of a pet friendly neighborhood.

Shuffle up the ratio of pit bulls to any other kind of dog.

The witching hour

I can't sleep. I'm restless like I remember being as a child. Itchy, too warm, not tired but a tad irritable. Unlike a child, I know I should be sleeping but it won't come. So I'm up and writing because nothing puts me to sleep faster than my own words. Laundry is done for the weekend though not completely folded and put away just yet. Today when it's actually daylight I may fix some clothing too dear to part with and fix a meal that will make me feel less bad for having the remainder of a obscene slice of red velvet cheesecake for dinner. Maybe I'll even prepare some more for this move, the stress of which is probably responsible for this restlessness. Ashley is looking for apartments in earnest now. We went to a horrible place today that was an object lesson in what a fresh coat of paint won't do. It's a place that would worry my mother. Then we went to a place where the saddest woman in Philadelphia sat on her stoop and smoked a cigarette. We brainstormed what manner of circumstance would convey despair that rolled of a person like that. We settled on 'fresh out of crack' but if Ashley, determined always to do the opposite of what makes the most sense has her way, she will be able to report back from her new digs right across the street if our sad woman ever finds happiness. Or crack. I don't think I can handle watching a kid piss away every advantage I worked to give them in life. She's my sister and I sometimes just want to clock her with an anvil (wherever they make those outside of Warner Brother's cartoons).

But in happier news, I am sublimating all the stress I'm not eating or writing on shopping. I started to feel bad tonight about my shopping bug but then reminded myself my version of a shopping spree is buying a new hallway runner and some flip flops at Ross (I totally bought more than that, but it was still at Ross). With the exception of the the excessive amount of purses I've purchased over the last month, everything else has been reasonable and on crazy sale, like 4 dollars for a bracelet sale. And the purses I *just* bought, also on crazy sale.

Every now and then when I'm inclined to be disappointed with how well I'm not holding it all together, I try to give myself some grace. It's been quite a spring. We seem to be so far from where we were it is hard to process that I was preparing myself for my mother to die, the government was being furloughed, I was cleaning my mother up after she used the bathroom and holding a bucket for her to spit in while acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was for me in that moment. That was my normal. Now I call the house and talk to my mom like I wondered if I ever would again. Then the shit baton was passed from family to work, and I had a terrible month at work in June. Really shitty. And work appears to have designs on making July shitty too.

I cracked sometime in June, driving for the nth time towards Washington D.C. and cursing a blue streak over the shitty work situation on the phone with my soul twin. I surprised myself with the words that came out of me. I was done. I was ready to die, I had/have no expectation that life was ever going to be any different than it was now. I will always be without a significant other, I will always grieving the stupid stubbornness of someone in my family (or myself), I will never be 'that girl' for anyone, nothing I ever try to accomplish at work will ever actually happen. I was done. I had seen enough and I wanted to be done. Soul Twin said she had been waiting for me to crack for some time and had not understood how I could just keep going, keep absorbing the little shit storm life had become and be so seemingly okay with it. I might be wrong but I could swear she was even a little delighted she was there when it happened. I was completely over it though. The only thing keeping me from the single car accident that would release me was a sidewalk snacking Labrador who I decided just wouldn't understand and wouldn't be taken care of as well without me. It was weird to hear myself say those things. It was an out of body experience. I wasn't upset or crying, just completely over it. Light a match and walk away over it. I can't make good happen in this world, I don't want to stick around and watch it be bad.

I don't have the time to give that episode the consideration I think I ought to so in the interim, I shall buy purses, write when I can't sleep, and eat red velvet cheesecake for dinner when I need to.