This One's For the Fam...

Going Public

2005-03-18T10:55:00.000-05:00

Wednesday evening I was working late to meet a 9 am deadline the following morning. The Development Director (Paula) and I were the only ones in the office, so before I left, I popped my head in her office and chatted with her about the work I was doing. Our conversation strayed from work stuff and onto the sunset out her window, flying, 9/11 and what I'm doing after graduation.

[NOTE: When Paula started here three weeks ago, I knew I would be working with my potential boss, but shied away from telling her that I was interested in staying with the Partnership (and in what capacity) after the term ended. At that time, I was still wavering between going for an entry-level position and throwing all my efforts into the training for employment in the Development Department. I knew this question would eventually come from her through casual conversation or through my own formal declaration as soon as I gathered the courage. So when she asked me what I was doing after graduation, I didn't know what I was going to say until the words came out of my mouth.**]

I couldn't dance around making my decision any longer, and it felt dishonest and weak of character to plead the fifth. I opened my mouth and, with as much confidence as I could muster, started, "I've made it no secret around here that I want to stay with the Partnership after graduation..." and proceeded to decide and declare that I wanted to stay in the Development Department, in a communicative capacity, interested in Grant Writing, but knowing that I haven't the experience or training for the position, but that blah blah blah.

It's funny: I was almost completely comfortable in her presence, talking about inane topics, but once I announced my candidacy for new Development Associate, I suddenly felt a pang of insecurity, like the chair I was sitting in belonged to the interviewee and the desk I spoke across belonged to my potential employer. I became nervously aware of the stomping boots on my feet, cotton t-shirt around my torso and denim encasing my legs. I realised that, from this moment on, I was in a perpetual state of interviewing; that I now had expectations of me greater than I bargained for as an Intern, and thought, perhaps I should start dressing the part of a potential employee. But then I realised I have no wardrobe support the last thought and I don't really want to have said wardrobe, nor do I have the funding for it either.

However, my declaration was received with enthusiam and great interest. She immediately asked for a writing sample and offered to give me an 'assignment' in lieu of one.

Of course, this is all good news because: a) I made a decision, b) it was received well and c) I finally made a decision. My life post-graduation is beginning to take shape.

**NOTE for the NOTE: Some of my best life decisions are made at the most inopportune times.

I could just cry!

2005-03-10T21:35:00.000-05:00

Oh, right. I did. :)

I've never had an anniversary, except the ones that everybody celebrates (the day of my birth, the day of Jesus's birth, the day of the Easter bunny's birth, the day of yer MOM's birth, etc.).

The date was officially this past Monday, but We've fallen on broke times and, out of necessity (and, perhaps, convenience orientation), decided not to do anything for it. In fact, except for her reminding me about it last week and then me remembering it with a fleeting, "Happy Anniversary, Baby!" Monday morning in mass transit, the date came and went unnoticed.

So when I jumped off the can tonight and walked into the kitchen and found the display, I was shyly surprised. I knew exactly what it was for, but acted like I didn't.

She in all her modesty and me in all my gushing gratitude. What a pair we are.

Some People Just Let You Down.

2005-03-08T16:49:00.000-05:00

I walked roughly two hours and easily two or three miles last night. In search of homeless people. I found a bunch of crack houses and a group of teenage boys huddled together, slowly walking up and down the same block repeatedly. And I saw one homeless guy getting onto a bus, but we weren't supposed to stop people in transit (because they're not from that neighborhood; skews the geographic distribution.)

YorkU* counted no homeless. As the night went on, I became grumpy about the fact that we were walking around in circles NOT counting anybody. What a paradox: I was disappointed because we didn't find anybody sleeping on the streets. Everyone in that neighborhood had a home. Damn it.

*Our group 'codename'

Being Alive Together

2005-03-06T22:48:00.000-05:00

Today Anna and I went to listen to Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton speak at the Tenth Annual Commemoration of the Beijing Conference on Women's Rights. The precedent was set ten years ago when then First Lady Clinton spoke in front of the U.N., and, indeed, the world, on the demands of women's rights as human rights. And I did not know this until today, but her remarks ("human rights are women's rights and women's rights are human rights") led to a snowball of positive changes in women's rights throughout the world.

Before Sen. Rodham Clinton keynoted, leaders (MPs, directors of NGOs, professors) who have fought for women's rights using whatever channels possible, some of them forging paths never before traversed, engaged in a roundtable discussion; present were women representing six countries (including Rwanda, Iraq, Ukraine, Morocco, South Africa, and Peru) and the discussion was moderated by the dynamic UNIFEM Executive Director Noeleen Heyzer. Unfortunately, because some "important people" made the programme start A HALF HOUR LATE, the discussion was cut short, but while the women were on the stage, they told us of the progress made since 1995, Beijing, and of the continuing efforts and strategies that must continue for equality to be met.

What She and I enjoyed, perhaps most of all, was the amalgamation of cultures and languages. No one on the panel, aside from the South African, spoke English as a native language, and it was fascinating and enriching to hear all the women speak.

Honestly, I had no idea what to expect with going to listen to Sen. Rodham Clinton speak today. Simply, I was going because of the opportunity to hear a world leader speak. I had no idea the connection to the UN or this Women's Conference. I was touched by the perseverance and dedication presented on the stage. I absorbed much more than information at this session. Being in the presence of all those emboldened women was inspiring.

Afterwards, we had some Cali-Mex food and saw a movie. They paled in comparison.

All in all, though, the day was pretty fabulous. I love watching Anna come alive in the city while simultaneously feeling alive myself.

Curtains! At last!

2005-03-04T20:45:00.000-05:00

Looksee what Anna was good enough to buy for us!

I'm All About the Free Conversations

2005-03-03T10:37:00.000-05:00

Last night, Anna and I attended a conversation at NYU SCPS with Pete Hamill and Clyde Haberman, columnist for the NY Times. They talked about Catholicism (and the impending death of the current Pope), conflict in Northern Ireland and how Ireland now (as opposed to every other time in history before the last 10 years) "net imports" immigrants (wherein it used to just be an "exporter"), US foreign policy, the contentious West Side Stadium and other local NYC politics. Mr. Hamill, when asked, gave a chilling account of his experience on 9/11/01 (he was there) and what he learned from that experience. Anna wrote down all sorts of brilliant quips to come out of the discussion, but my favourite was when he referred to NYC as "the capital of People Not Like Us."

I had no idea who either of these gentlemen were before going into the session, only that Mr. Hamill had recently spoken at NYU at their eighth annual Irving H. Jurow Lecture, “What New York Can Teach the Rest of the World” and that I'd seen Clyde Haberman's name in the Times. Immigrants and their impact on NYC has become a subject of great interest for me recently. I think you guys could both enjoy Hamill's recent book Downtown: My Manhattan. Here is an exerpt (available off aforementioned Hamill website):

In my earliest memory, I am five years old, coming home from the Sanders Theater in Brooklyn. I am with my mother and we have just seen The Wizard of Oz. The year is 1940. In the safe darkness of the movie house I’ve seen emerald castles and a lion that talked and a road made of glistening yellow bricks. But in memory all of that is a blur. In memory, my mother takes my hand and the two of us are skipping all the way home singing “because because because because because!”

On this wonderful evening, my mother still has brown hair. She is laughing and exuberant, clearly made happy by going to a movie with her eldest son. I remember nothing else, except the word because. Later, I will learn that the woman I call Mom is actually Anne Devlin Hamill, an immigrant from the hard, dark city of Belfast, in Northern Ireland. She arrived in New York, with perfect Irish timing, on the day the stock market crashed in 1929. She was then nineteen. The calamity of the Great Depression did not dismay her. She went immediately to work for a rich Manhattan family as a domestic servant, glad of the work, joyous about being again in the city of New York. In all the years that followed in the life of Anne Devlin, that city would always be a wonderland. Why? Because.

Next to the Conversation, my favourite part about last night was dinner for $4.25: hotdogs for both me and Anna, a knish for me (my first!) and a pretzel for her, all chomped down outside the NYU building before going inside for the session.

_______
This Sunday we're going to listen to Sen. Clinton speak at NYU on the topic, "Women's Rights are Human Rights." I have fallen in love with NYU. I think I may attend graduate school at their Wagner Institute for Public Policy. Going to this discussion last night, listening to the conversation and the audience's questions made me realise that I thrive in the forum/Aristotlian open discussion format, and, more importantly, even if I only take one graduate course a semester, I want to keep going with my education. I just love it too much to stop.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way To Work This Morning...

2005-02-17T09:05:00.000-05:00

I was walking down 28th Street, approaching a red light at 6th Avenue. I approached the curb I saw a puddle of water jutting out about 2 feet from the curb. Seeing that other pedestrians had just avoided the puddle and were off to the side, I decided the best course of action would be to gently launch myself off the edge of the curb and over the puddle. I didn't adjust for ice on the curb.

Here's where it gets fuzzy... as I strided into the last step at the edge of the curb and stepped down, ice met my footing a split second before my back met the curb/puddle. Before I knew what had happened, two women descended upon me and were helping me off the ground. I was in a complete daze. I didn't even feel the impact of the fall. And even now, I can't even tell that I free-fell three feet and landed on my back this morning. My shoes aren't wet, so my feet must have flown out straight in front. What a sight that must have been for passers-by, haha!

The more I think about it the more I'm amazed at how little it hurt and how quickly I recovered, without even missing a beat. The light turned green and we walked across the street like nothing had happened. In fact, if it hadn't been for one of the ladies saying as she steadied me, "There's ice all over the place," I would still be wondering what the hell happened.

I found myself chuckling at the normal absurdity of the whole situation.

As a side note, had I not been wearing the water-proof coat that you guys bought me, my whole backside would be covered in water. But as the coat is water-resistent... :)

Yeah, I was there

2005-02-03T09:26:00.000-05:00

And it was cool. I'm ready to jump back in the fray. GAME O-ON!!! :)

I've been encouraged by the Programme Director of Peter's Place to apply for the recently opened Case Manager position. Everyone thinks I'm a grad student, even my peers. I grow less shameful by the fact I'm not one every day.

Brian Would Be SO Jealous

2005-01-23T08:11:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning with a desperate need to pee. As I stumbled out of bed, a blizzard was going on outside my window. My eyes lit up, taking it all in. There was snow gathered in the corners of my windows (y'know, that stuff Floridians imitate with the spray-can stuff around Christmas time) and my backyard was covered in a blanket of snow- no dark spots to be seen anywhere. Anna, I discovered as I moved into the living room, the only room in the house with blinds, was sleeping on the sofa.

I hobbled downstairs, did my business and went to the basement windows, which have snow filling half way up the panes. I pushed open the backdoor as far as I could and the snow was literally 3 feet deep! Can you imagine my excitement?! I've only seen this much snow in movies!

Then I went upstairs to see if my paper had arrived. I looked out at the bottom of my front steps and there was a tiny flag of bright blue. Wow, the dedication! I didn't hem and haw like most folks who are used to this kind of weather do as I dressed myself to get the paper. Hell, no. This is faaar too much fun. Photos to follow.

The Fun Just Never Stops

2005-01-22T14:15:00.000-05:00

Guess who discovered how to post to Moblog? You should check it out, especially because today is my first hard snow and She and I are house-bound, which means that the moblog will be quite full.

For you who NEVER STOPS BITCHING about my lack of images of my surroundings, you're about to be inundated. I hope you were careful for what you wished...

Another Blog

2005-01-21T15:21:00.000-05:00

Before I go ANY FURTHER with anything else I do today, I want to link you to my academic blog, the daily journal I'm required to keep for my internship. I hope you find it as informative and interesting as I find the work I'm doing. Since I've moved into the internship position, I'm allowed greater access to the Partnership; that is, I'm able to lend my services out beyond the corporate headquarters and the direct supervision of Arnold. I feel like the work I'm doing is suddenly important, and my impact here is recognised, or at least useful.

A Change of Emotional State (Read: From "Hungry" to "Full-bellied")

2004-12-27T16:15:00.000-05:00

Did you notice the time of my last post? To give you perspective, it was posted just minutes before I took a shower, my parents called to wish me a happy Christmas, and my grandmother and Aunt Pat showed up at the house.

After the joy I experienced this weekend, it would be dishonourable to leave you with that post's image of my weekend with my (extended) family.

To start 'ya off, both Fizz and I were experiencing our first Christmas away from home, a potentially depressing event, regardless of your age/maturity. I never considered how much it would suck to be away from them until the time actually occurred, but by the time it was happening, I was so overcome with positive emotion that I hadn't left room for missing my immediate family.

Somewhere in the last month I've forgotten to miss home. Hunh. Weird. It likely happened when a friend returned from her first visit back home, talking about wanting to move back and missing her family even more than before she left. It reminded me of myself, when I moved to Utah and came back home for my birthday, how much it made me desperately want to never leave it again. In the end, staying away from home was the only way for me to grow and the discovery that home is never the same as you remember led me to decide that, despair that euphoric feeling of visiting "home," it was best that I keep my presence there in like fashion: a visit.

I think my parents' visit to my new home aided tremendously as well. There was something about the convergence of parallel lines in my new-found territory that made me feel o.k. about not living at home anymore. As it is, the people in my hometown have moved on with their lives: my bestfriend got married, Ms. Shaborgan left the country and my brother got a girlfriend. My folks are moving out of my childhood/adolescent-hood home as soon as possible next year and I'm graduating from UCF in May. All friendships I've collected there are maintainable long-distance and She is moving in on Thursday. I am officially free from Florida.

Now, for the first time ever, I actually feel free.

Back to this weekend. Like I said, I was on the telephone when Aunt Pat and Grandma pulled into the driveway. I was anxious to see them (for the first time since February this year), but not anxious to get off the phone with my family. I did, eventually, and unleashed my excitement at seeing my beloved Grandmother and Aunt, two of my favourite women on the Muddy side of the family.

After hugging my Aunt and Uncle (Fizz was gracefully introduced to them before I made an entrance), I strode into the living room, where the Matriarch was resting on the sofa. We locked eyes and embraced, the intense joy welling up in my throat; I could barely speak. She held my hands so tightly, like she was never again letting go. I gave her the run-down on my life through strained lips, tucking back the tears. I excused myself after a while, went into the kitchen in search of Fizz, confessed my secret and started crying as she hugged me.

Surrounded by all the strong, boisterous women I distinctly remember from my childhood, Aunt Pat asked what was wrong, loosing a shower of my tears for all to see. Fortunately, Fizz was there to speak for me, deflecting their concerned looks with words of reassurance. Uncle Marty followed closely with a wise-crack that made me laugh and everyone went about their previous activities.

And so the evening followed in similar form. When everyone gathered to open Christmas gifts (imagine three boys, between the ages of four and eight, a two year-old and umpteen adults), I was again floored by the gifts tagged with my name on them. Not only did my family make an effort to make sure I had something to unwrap, but they did the same for Fizz, a relative stranger in their living room.

In total, I came out to my cousin Patty (assuring that, within weeks, I would be out to everyone else in the family), reconnected with all those Aunts, Uncles and Cousins I'd so wanted (but was never able) to for years on end, introduced my flatmate to my family and my family to my flatmate and remembered what it was like to be surrounded by family. It was hard to want for anything else, even if that "anything else" included my brother, mother and father. As far as I'm concerned, while they're not the same peas, they all came from the same pod. And while I didn't go home for Christmas, I was at home. And that's enough for me.

Welcome To: My Family

2004-12-25T14:10:00.000-05:00

It's official. I'm a scrooge.

That's cool. I can live with that. It's not as though I'm Alistair Sim's Ebeneezer Scrooge (my father's favourite version of A Christmas Carol). I'm a happy one at least.

And this year, I'm enduring the Christmas consumer madness with flag-waving, gun-toting Catholics.

A dangerous combination, if you ask me.

But damn I'm eating well.

Merry Whatever Makes You Happy.

Partnership Space

2004-12-21T13:44:00.000-05:00

The new Grant Writer begins her job this coming Monday (the 27th). Since the announcement of her start with the Partnership, I was told three times yesterday and once today (by one of the people who told me yesterday) that she would be moving into "my" office, a subject they feel is touchy, apparently.

This has amused me no end. The conversation has gone like this each time:

Them: "So, the new Grant Writer starts on Monday..."
Me: "Oh, excellent! We were in real need, huh?"
Them: "Yeah..." More quietly and less-forward, "She's going to have this office, so if you could..." Me: "Oh, of course! I'll tidy it up and have it ready for her by Friday's end."
Them: "Great." [moves along]

Did you ever watch Office Space? Well, the recent conversations have reminded me of this movie, especially a sound bite found on this page called, "You need to move to storage."

No end, I tell ya.

Stimpy-like*

2004-12-20T13:14:00.000-05:00

I've not yet recovered from this feeling of longing. Though recounting my blessings lately has brought about a sense of satisfaction in my life. Yes, I failed a class this term (a feat which has weighed heavily on my mind while I was failing it all semester long), but my "What to Say When Folks Ask What's Going On In My Life" list is chock-full of positivity. Ironically, it isn't until I reveiw this list I realise I have little cause for depression.

Okay, I failed a class and, alright, I didn't get the internship for which I moved to NYC, but I am retaking the class and fulfilling my reasoning for moving to this blessed city this Spring. As my dad said during my choke-and-sob confession to him upon asking for rent money back in October, you've got to have movement to get the ball rolling. Stagnation does nothing to promote growth of anything other than pond scum.

And he's right- I knew in that moment; hell, I knew (albeit deep down) before then. From the moment I put forth effort in this City, everything I've attempted I've achieved.

One week before rent due and the morning I was planning on telling my folks I needed rent money, I called a temp agency I'd been recommended to and for weeks prior and requested an interview. Two hours later I was seated before my new employer. The next morning, I had a job starting the following Monday with a non-profit organisation. Enter The Partnership for the Homeless, an agency which aids the homeless and, kismetically enough, keeps me off the streets as well. Thus began a week-by-week "temporary" job, a pursuit for a permanent position and a validation of self. How great it felt to be employed again.

While the pursuit did not culminate in the permanent position (for which I was HIGHLY overqualified), it has resulted in the reason for my being here: an internship (to begin in January). Yes, it's official: everything's coming up roses.

While cultivating my professional garden, my relationship arborium, surprisingly, earned a positive gross income. Tang came and went from my life, destroying weeds and harvesting growth, arriving at a time of famine and drought to refresh my intellectual soil, just long enough to remind me that it is still there and in need of tending. A good friend and mentor of mine once told me that the mark of a good friendship was lack of need; you don't need your friends, she told me, and I've tried very hard to relate according to that. The vaccuum of Tang still lingers, but not in the desperate sense I predicted. My friendship with her is the healthiest of all to develop this year.

Another interesting frienship to develop has been the one with Fizz, with whom I share my living space and everyday joy. Ours is the second relationship this year to move from long distance to close proximity, a trick only successful if both sides are ready to shift positions (not just locations) at a moment's notice. This kind of change requires the sort of flexibility rarely seen outside of long distance-to-everyday friendships. It's much easier to move from everyday-to-long distance than the other way around. Add to that the extension of not just everyday frienship muscles, but flatmate presense, too. Consider, also, that the relationship has had to adjust for the honeymoon stage of a significant other, present since just before we moved in together.

It's for these reasons that this relationship change requires much more patience than usual. There is, of course, no fault to be found with either party (and, if so, moreso with me than her); I look at it as a challenge to (what I think has been) my growth in the last two years. A test, if you will, to see how far I've come. And while this little "review" of our relationship has (it may appear) done little to promote the goodness that is Fizz, that means precisely dick about how much I adore this woman, whose catalysing nature rakes (and sows) my conscience daily, leaving in her furrow a row sure to yield growth.

The "What to Say When Folks Ask What's Going On In My Life" list, lately, hasn't included the primary source of my gratification: the Boy, without whose support none of this would have been possible. He's the first of my long distance-turned-everyday frienships to emerge this year, providing me with a home from mid-July to mid-September (a whopping and depression-inducing unproductive three months). Ours has been the easiest relationship to develop this year, primarily because he's so-damn-comfortable. And giving. And caring. And loving. And interesting. And... And... And... ad infinitum. But most of all, he's always there, a gift in and of itself.

And in the love department.

My relationship with Her has gone to extremes since I moved up here. Early on, I employed a slash-and-burn technique in our relationship, severing our offical ties while continuing to love her in all the same ways. In less than a score of days from now, She will be moving in with me, a technique I've NEVER engaged in any of my relationship-relationships. For me, there is far more excitement than trepidation than for Her, for whom the opposite is true, but my firm plant on (mostly) solid ground helps us keep the faith.

So, what you're basically saying is: you've nothing to complain of.

Recently, I was lucky enough to have multiple lines (which have split-off and been running parallel since I moved from home in 2002) converge at a joyous point. My folks met my Adult Self in the place of my Adult Life in the context of my Adult Friends. They even all adored each other. Hee hee. How cool is that? How feckin' lucky am I? From this meeting sprung a joy unmatched by recent standards, a reason to say, "I'm happy" for the first time in MONTHS and actually believe it.

And still other relationships have evolved, most notably the "on-line" sort. Ex's have moved further away, while Exships-turned-friendships and friendships have ebbed and flowed with the moon's phases. Whatever has come of each of them I have been grateful for, even the ones that have become distant.

Oh, yeah: and it snowed last night. I randomly woke up this morning at 430 and stayed awake long enough to stare out the window and smile, consider running out to my backyard to make a nude snow angel, and crack my window to let in some of the moisture before falling back asleep.

Nature does an awesome job of reminding us of our childhood.

*In case you're wondering who he is...

Entirely Too Chipper

2004-12-10T13:11:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's because my folks are in town. Maybe it's because the weekend is here or because I'm going to a party tonight. Maybe it was that cup of joe at 7 o'clock this morning. Maybe it's the adrenaline of meeting an important work deadline today.

Whatever it is, I've been bouncing around the office today, bobbing my head to the music in my head, Mmm-myself!-ing my way past co-workers and feeling VERY flirtatious (far more so than I should be) and playful.

Until the Excedrin© kicked in, I still had an eyebrow headache from the tear duct workout I got last night.

I feel confident and foxxee. Like I could conquer the world with one swish of my non-existent-Pantene-Pro-V-infused hair.

SUH-F*@^!-WEET!!

2004-12-08T15:41:00.000-05:00

I was just speaking with the Partnership's CEO (whom I've been working with almost exclusively since I began here) about the Foundation research work I've been doing this week, and casually suggested that I "continue my excellent relationship with the Partnership" via an internship in the Spring, going on to explain the specifics.

His response: "Sold."

Now he just has to check with the HR Manager about the details and I'm as good as in.

[does an uncoordinated dance of joy*]

*thank you, little pink heart.

Subway Wisdom

2004-12-08T11:06:00.000-05:00

It feels fitting that my first post in over two weeks is unoriginal, however much it fits me like a glove.

The following was spotted (several times) on various Queens/Manhattan-bound trains.

A leaf,
one of the last,
parts from a maple branch:
it is spinning in the transparent air of October,
falls on a heap of others,
stops,
fades.
No one admired its entrancing struggle with the wind,
followed its flight,
no one will distinguish it now
as it lies among other leaves,
no one saw what
I did.
I am the only one.
~Bronislaw Maj

In other news, Whammy departs for greener pastures tomorrow night. My heart rollercoasters up-and-down between joy for her gain and self-pity for my loss.

Rocking the Monday Grind

2004-11-22T15:24:00.000-05:00

So, I'm pretty sure U2 just floated by my window in a free concert parade a few minutes ago. Of course, I only saw them from 14 stories up, but he looked a little like Bono and talked a little like him and this is, afterall, NYFC, so the possibility is great. They had amassed a swarm of people following them, too. One fan ran up to the trailer flatbed and gave them a fresh pizza and "Bono" thanked him and NYC heartily.

Actually, I just checked on their website and they are in NYC today for a TV taping north of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Cool.

[still impressed by celebrity]

One of the Better Ones

2004-11-19T16:31:00.000-05:00

I've been walking on air today. I came in about an hour late because I was on "official business" investigating a conference room at NYU for a panel discussion on homelessness my organisation is hosting. The campus is gorgeous, seated right across from Washington Square Park. Ah. It was lovely to walk around NYC during the mid-morning hours on a weekday.

Since I've been in the office, I've been out of my chair all day, which makes me happy because it hurts my back to sit here for hours and hours. I've been walking around the office, positively glowing, greeting all my co-workers, flirting with the new girl, laughing and joking and just generally being the part of me I am in casual settings. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact I'm wearing a t-shirt and jeans with big fat boots (always an ego boost for me, regardless).

Anyway, I've been receiving "I'm sorry to hear you didn't get the job" all day long, too. That doesn't make me unhappy at all; it's not nearly as depressing or difficult as I thought it would be. Quite the opposite, in fact, as it's nice to hear such persistent, "Well, I'm not going to like the new girl AT ALL" loyal comments from folks who are truly going to miss me. And I will honestly miss them, too. Ack. I know it's only been a month or so, but I feel I've left my prints behind me. And as sad as it is to leave, it feels good to leave a trail.

Exit Stage Left

2004-11-17T11:56:00.000-05:00

"You could do so much more than be my personal secretary," he says to me. You're right, I thought, the lump forming in my throat, my eyes blinking obsessively to keep the tears at bay.

"You made the decision impossible," he continues on, Difficult, but not impossible, I correct his sentence for him, bracing my arms against their decision.

"She just has more executive assistant and office management experience," he justifies his decision to me. I nod my head in affirmation; I knew that all along.

And so it is. I'm here until the 29th or 30th; I've volunteered my services to help the new girl takeover my position the first week she's here. I've been offered the letter of recommendation and encouraged to find better work elsewhere.

This isn't the voice of an embittered individual, I swear to you. I'm all for the Partnership having the best employees for the job. I'm not that person, but I don't take that personally either: I've done my best.

Now come the I'm sorry to hear... 's from co-workers who were hoping I would get the position. I'll face a barage of them in the coming days, but only when they ask for an update on the position; I'm not keen on going around telling folks that I didn't get the position. My plan is to exit as gracefully as possible, talking up the new candidate to the co-workers and helping make her transition as smooth as possible.

New Acquaintances

2004-11-16T11:48:00.000-05:00

Maureen Calderwood sent me an email. Didn't come as a complete surprise, but it was slightly unexpected, however pleasant.

We're still exchanging emails, but I asked her for dinner or drinks after work one of these days. I'm looking forward to meeting her. She seems pretty cool. After all, she DOES argue about politics with UB, so she can't be ALL bad. ;)

Thanks, Da.

So I Finally Popped the Question

2004-11-12T16:52:00.000-05:00

Soooooooooo...

I just asked Stephanie where the Partnership is in the process of hiring someone fulltime for my position and she told me, hesitantly, like I had just put her on the spot, that it was up to Arnold now whether or not I would get it.

I have tried not expect that I would get this position, but it's been hard not to with all the support from the co-workers.

It feels like failure from where I'm sitting. He has a second interview with a candidate on Monday. She's my strongest competitor (unless, of course, I have over-estimated my value here and am completely out of the running). I don't understand why, if he was going to hire me, he would want to interview her again.

I am certain he will offer her this position on Monday.

The trick is getting through the next 45 minutes without any tears.

Remember to Remind Me

2004-11-11T14:02:00.000-05:00

Last night I found myself staring down 5th Ave at Washington Square Circle, just under the Arch, the place where 5th Ave splits and trickles to the other side of the park.

I was holding a banner, which boasted anti-Iraq war propaganda, and a candle in an opaque blue plastic cup (the irony being that a group of protesters who would normally protest for the environment were accidentally burning plastic for this particular demonstration). We were holding vigil for, specifically, the recent Falluja "insurgents" under US-led attack, and for, generally, the anti-war movement.

On my walk over to the park from the F train station, I thought about what I was about to do. Since I've been paying attention to our military manoevers in Iraq, the thought of going back into Falluja to squash the centre of the rebel uprising sounded, unfiltered in my mind, like a good idea.

My support of the war in Iraq has wavered since before it began. I was one of the first ones out there protesting the idea, back in January of 2003, on the basis of "Give Peace a Chance." Since then, I have heard stories from soldiers returned, telling of children and women they've saved, the gratuity some Iraqis have expressed them and the heartbreaking sights they've seen. I've heard from the Iraqi citizens who support the War and their arguments have been convincing.

All along, I've felt conflicted by my overwhelming desire for peace at all costs. In fact, confliction is the mot du année. I am surrounded in a sea of truths, jetsammed from my boat "Apathy," and clinging desperately to "I Don't Know."

I stood last night, with George Washington staring over my shoulder, wondering how I got there from "Squash the insurgency!" just hours before. And so,
because it felt like an appropriate response,
because I didn't know what else to do,
because the thought of so many deaths since the start of this war flooded my mind,
because I didn't know which side to choose,
because passers-by nodded their head, donated money, took picutres and cheered in approval,
because the icy winds were burning my eyes,
I cried.

The circle I have travelled in the last year has been an arduous path, though not as difficult as most. I've avoided most of the difficulty by sitting on the fence, watching from the sidelines, arguing for both defenses and voting for Nader. As with most challenges I don't feel ready to take on, I've ignored this one, claiming "neutral" all along.

I don't know what else there is to say about this; I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed, either.

I leave you with a quote I'm sure you're familiar with; it haunts all of my neutrality decisions and weighs heavily always in my mind:

"First they came for the Communists, but I was not a Communist so I did not speak out.
Then they came for the Socialists and the Trade Unionists, but I was neither, so I did not speak out.
Then they came for the Jews, but I was not a Jew so I did not speak out.
And when they came for me, there was no one left to speak out for me."
-Martin Niemoller

Well, You'll Never Guess What...

2004-11-10T11:59:00.000-05:00

I just met Chris Madden, heiress to the Martha Stewart throne. She's agreed to be a spokesperson for Furnish-A-Future, a subsidiary of the Partnership which provides free furniture for families who can't afford it. As an interior decorator who hosts "Interiors by Design" on HGTV, Chris is the perfect icon for our organisation.

PS She's lovely (and short) to boot!

True to My Name...

2004-11-04T21:07:00.000-05:00

Doing nice things for people I love gives me such a warm thought. Having something to sacrafice feels good. Just giving feels great. It perks me up right away and keeps me lifted.

Thanks for giving me something to give you. I cherish the opportunity.

Meh

2004-11-01T14:16:00.000-05:00

I had what you might consider a "busy weekend." First of all, let me start out by saying that I didn't get home until at least 8.30 every night last week; Monday was a foray into the Village for thrift stores (all of which close by 6 pm Mon-Fri)- a complete bust.
Feeling: disappointed and annoyed. Liz sprung for the bottle of wine that night.

Tuesday Liz and I ventured to our "regular" spot- Zanza, a bar featuring Shoghi, a friend of ours who spins (you know- a DJ), excellent Veggie burgers and $2 draughts. We were joined by Av, a (shameless) promoter of independent arts; a good guy, cool, but reeks of "I'm everybody's friend."
Feeling: disappointed and amiss.

Wednesday was dinner with Tami at the Zen Palate in Union Square (as Liz describes it- "the place to do nothing and been seen doing it"). Vegetarian cuisine reasonably priced, fun company.
Feeling: still amiss.

Thursday was an off-off-Broadway play written by Liz's "copy bitch" Leslie Bramm. The play, Oswald's Backyard, performed at Beckett Theatre, was very well-written and acted; I enjoyed it immensely, though I'm slightly confused about the point of it. I went out with Tami, Amber, Craig and Liz, and Liz's (and Leslie's) co-worker, Quanta Wade (the woman who 'recommended' me for employment at my temp agency). Afterwards, we (Tami, Amber, Liz, Craig and I) drove down to the Village so Craig could get food and the rest of us drinks. We picked The Slaughtered Lamb, a reference to "An American Werewolf in Paris." All fried food, all English beers. The topic of conversation was Bush-bashing, that is, sources uncited, preaching to the choir, Air-America Liberal bashing. I kept my mouth shut until I couldn't take it anymore; "I'm tired of your one-sided bullshit conversations!" I snapped at my friends. There is only so much one can take.
Feeling: frustrated and tired.

Friday night was the St. Petersburg Philharmonic Orchestra at Carnegie Hall. Craig and I got all gussied up in our finest rags; he in his suit and I in my "symphony" dress (formerly my bridesmaid dress). Boy, did we feel silly and spiffy. The orchestra was beautiful, nearly moving me to tears in the first movement. The sound quality in Isaac Stern Hall was, of course, AMAZING, even in the rafters we could hear just as well as if we'd been 3 feet from the stage. The only distraction was a poorly sound-proofed exit door that, when nearby cars honked or sirens cried out, you could hear through very clearly. Boo-hiss, but whatever; I chalked it up to NYC saying "hi" and enjoyed myself anyway.
Feeling: calm and at ease, though distracted by thoughts of my job.

Saturday night was an evening at Kenny's Castaways on Bleeker to watch Raining Jane, an all-girl band from LA with whom Liz acquainted herself when they played Salt Lake City last year. They're funky and fun, but in serious need of new music; I now know every single one of their 18 songs.
Feeling: even among friends I felt alone (a recurring theme of late).

Riding home Saturday night in my lonely misery, I decided that an evening home alone the next night would be the best thing for me.

Sunday morning I woke up refreshed and jolly, partly due to the end of Daylight Saving's Time and partly due to Liz's equally joyful demeanor (likely induced by morning 'relations'). We went to breakfast at an Irish restaurant up on Grand Ave; the walk 4 blocks away was divine with cool, blue skies, bright sun, and shorts-friendly temperatures. A Traditional Irish Breakfast was my choice, with 4 kinds of meat, a few eggs, grilled tomato and some home fries. Need I say more? In my joyful mood, Liz suggested I go to the Halloween Parade with them later that night; I forgot all about my social misery and decided to go with them.

Sunday evening started out well: handing out candy to children (I feel like SUCH a grown-up!) and getting ready with Tami in the house is always amusing. She's freaked out about kids, so I made her dole out candy to them; she was all, "What do I say to them?!" but handled the goblins perfectly.

When we got down to the parade, 6th Avenue was PACKED! We were standing 7 people deep to watch the parade, only able to see the stilt walkers and puppets going by. I was bored and Tami was irritated with the crowd, so we jetted off to hook up with Shoghi at Nevada Smith's (yes, named after the Steve McQueen flick), leaving Craig and Liz to meet up with us later.

Later that night as we left the bar I was angry and annoyed- at what, I couldn't say, but that sense of loneliness that has been plaguing me the past few weeks is the closest to how I was feeling. In the subway, waiting for train, I sat on the ground and quietly cried, the only thought in my head was, I wanna go home. Even now, sitting in my office typing this up, my eyes are welling up with tears. An irrational thought, of course, as a) I don't even know what home is anymore and b) home is not the solution to my problem. I spent the rest of the trip back to Queens avoiding eye contact with my friends and determinedly chewing my finger nails.

All I can attach to the way I feel is loneliness, a feeling I have no idea how to get a grip on or get over, other than to just avoid everyone altogether. So far, I've done a piss-poor job of that. I keep thinking being around people will lift my spirits, but spending time with them is never as fulfilling as I hope it to be. I keep going out, hoping that "this night" will be The One to pull me from my funk.

This Tuesday we're all supposed to go to Zanza to watch the Election results roll in (the idea is: why go through that alone?) and I'm thinking: another night of LOTS OF PEOPLE and POLITICS- two subjects which have been the only common denominators in all of my sad evenings lately. I'm thinking I want to sit this one out, even though it will be a momentous, contentious occasion (a moment I am not usually wont to pass-up).

I Am Home.

2004-10-16T16:05:00.000-04:00

The end.

Almost Home

2004-10-13T12:16:00.000-04:00

This morning, while enjoying my paper and cup of made-for-espresso-coffee, I lingered on the sofa a little longer than usual. When I typically head downstairs to take a shower, I laid back on the futon just long enough to watch salmon-coloured clouds streak the pale cerulean horizon. It occurred to me that while I've been here, though I've been awake for many sunrises, I have yet to watch a single one of them. In fact, it's not been since before I left home that I've seen the familiar rising-sun clouds.

One more day...

Drunk, This Time Emotionally

2004-10-09T20:47:00.000-04:00

I have been weepy all day. Most of that is because I watched the season finale of Sex and the City and, maybe, the reason I cried so much, is because of the friendship difficulties addressed in the show and how much I relate to them..

I think I miss my Florida friends. Despite being surrounded by a few choice individuals since July, I have been completely alone. I have had a connection with them unmatched, but I still long for the connection I had with friends before. And because I long for those old connections, I feel alone without them, in spite of the new connections I've made here. It's like- I could have (and do have) exactly what I need for great friendship here, but because it's not the SAME as what I have in Florida, I feel like I don't have any friendship at all.

I miss quiet people and when I'm around my quiet people here, I miss the noisiness of my non-quiet people back in Florida. Nothing here is the brand of people I want, despite how lucky I feel to be surrounded here by friends who care for and about me, who would do anything for me and who are, if I would let them be, exactly what I need.

I guess just haven't adjusted to the friendship void in my life yet. I have been mindful of my life in Utah lately and the adjustment period I went through there. I guess, moving up here, I thought things would be different, that I wouldn't have any trouble not being intimately connected with my Florida people. And I've spent so much time ignoring the fact that I miss them and need them, that I've been utterly negligent to myself.

And so tonight I am emotionally drunk. I'm going home to Florida at the end of next week and thinking about being back there has reminded me of the fact that I'm not there now. And that I have not been there in over three months. I imagine that's why this current well of emotion has sprung up.

I miss you all very much. And all the shiny new adventures, freshly strengthened relationships and success stories I tell don't amount to much without the faces of my history to share them with.

Goddesses Bless Björk

2004-10-08T10:36:00.000-04:00

I wake up
And the day feels
Broken
I tilt my head
I'm trying to get an angle
'Cause the evening
I've always longed for
It could still happen

How do I master
The perfect day
Six glasses of water
Seven phonecalls

If you leave it alone
It might just happen
Anyway

It's not up to you
Oh it never really was
It's not up to you
Oh it never really was
It's not up to you
Well it never really was
It's not up to you

If you wake up
And the day feels
Ah broken
Just lean into the crack
(Just lean into the crack)
And it will tremble
Ever so nicely
Notice
How it sparkles
Down there

I can decide
What I give
But it's not up to me
What I get given
Unthinkable surprises
About to happen
But what they are

It's not up to you
Well it never really was
It's not up to you
Oh it never really was
It's not up to you
Oh it never really was
It's not up to you
Oh, me, share
It's not up to you
It's not up to you
Oh, it never really was
It's not up to you
Well, it never really was
It's not up to you
It's not up to you
It's not up to you
It's not up to you

There's too much
Clinging
To peak
There's too much
Pressure

Thank Cro-Magnons* It's Friday

2004-10-08T09:37:00.000-04:00

The Boy heard on Air America this morning that Maggie Gyllenhaal was hosting a DebateWatch tonight at Crowbar, a bar in the Village. He actually sent me a text this morning during my commute which asked, "Do you want to meet Maggie Gyllenhaal?" Now, this boy is FULL of surprises and, at least in my magical image of him, would totally be the person to make something like this possible. So I got the skinny from him and now I'm making plans for the evening.

Oh, yeah, and I'm at work, too. My temp agent, Steve, just called, inquiring about my announcement to the HR Rep here that I will be out the 14th- 22nd. He was concerned I was being flaky and wished I had told him about this sooner. To be honest, I didn't know if I would be needed here permanently until Wednesday. Yesterday, when I told the HR Rep, Stephanie, about my vaca, I made it clear to her that I wanted to return on the 25th. She responded that she wasn't guarenteeing anything.

Apparently, later on, when she called Steve to request a temp in my place, she told him she needed one only for the dates I would be gone, implying that they want me back.

SUH-WEET.

*Cro-Magnons invented the first calendar, a lunar calendar circa 38,000 BCE.

A Couple of Things...

2004-10-07T12:13:00.000-04:00

I am in-love again. This time, I will not relent. Not now, not ever. Never again. This love is eternal and shall not be disuaded. It is different from every other in-love episode I have ever had in that this time- I'm in-love with scarves. And to think they are sold IN BULK on the street corner 2 blocks away, two for five dollars. Can you IMAGINE my good fortune?! Goddess bless them for they are divine. Perhaps, then, I should say, "Scarves bless them." Hmmm... ACHOO! Scarves bless you! I like the way that moves.

------

So, it just occurred to me LAST NIGHT that I will be in Florida in 7 days! [mightily squeals] The only problem is that I have this great new job (which WILL become permanent, I am convinced) and now I have to leave it and risk a new temp taking over my position. To remedy that, I shall make myself invaluable in the next few days. Commence Operation: ExecAsst Takeover.

------

If you're one of the many folks looking to spend time in the evening on the phone with me, my schedule is cramped. Restricted minutes keep me off the phone until 9 pm, the Cellphoneless Flatemate needs time to talk to her man and I to Ms. Anna Divine. Put on top of that lack of energy nearing the 10 o'clock hour (getting up at 6 am tuckers me out come the evening, let alone the commute home). Mix all this together and I only have about 2 hours of talk time in me to spare and half a dozen people requesting my attention. You'll forgive if you've felt ignored. I am an equal opportunity ignorer, fret not.

------

Oh, and I need a new portable CD player. For some reason it keeps cutting out JUST when the song is getting good 'n powerful and right when I'm forgetting that people are staring. This morning I tried (in vain) a total of six times to get through Björk's Cocoon. It seemed to cut out just at the lyrics:

He slides inside
Half awake,
half asleep
We faint back
Into sleephood
When I wake up
The second time
In his arms
Gorgeousness
He's still inside me

And you know she just sings them so lushly and sensually, it's such a pity to be interrupted by the noise of the street corner or the rushing train.

And no, this isn't a complaint. You know that I am, as usual, eternally grateful.

Today- the Fax Machine; Tomorrow- the World!

2004-10-06T13:13:00.000-04:00

It took me 2 hours to send a fax this morning, my first effort playing with the silly creature. Early on I suspected PEBCAK* issues and quickly doubted my self-promoted qualifications for being an Executive Assistant.

After several failed attempts and thinking on my feet, I researched the company's phone number** to call and verify the fax number. They told me I was faxing the wrong number, so I atempted to fax the RIGHT number.

In between all this, I was back and forth between the fax machine, copier, phones and managing/taking requests from my coworkers (today is the day they all decided to give me work to do- hurrah!). To be fair, I wasn't exactly sitting in front of the machine all morning long trying over and over and over again.

In the end, I finally asked for assistance from the kind gentleman who sits the next cubicle over from the copier/fax area. Turns out I was dialing the wrong number all along. [blushes] It's all good, though. I played it off like it was the machine/receiving-end's fault.

I am slowly getting used to being an executive's assistant. I rather like calling up other executives on behalf of him and saying, "This is Arnold Cohen's office, Mr. Cohen would like to speak with [insert other executive's name here]." Or, when I get to be a full-on New Yorker, it'll be, "Arnold Cohen for Donald Trump, please." Everyone I call has their own assistant and I feel a connection to each of them. We are the faceless folks keeping in order our bosses' business (and, if you're good, personal) lives.

Plus, when I speak on behalf of my executive, I have authority, even though my sweet voice may not. :)

*Problem Exists Between Client And Keyboard.
**There was no way I was going to return a failure to the person who asked me to send the fax.

You... have... THE POWER!!!

2004-10-05T14:38:00.000-04:00

For my American congregation...

Congress Dot Org has an excellent resource for educating yourself about coming elections in your state.

Just go here and choose your state from the drop-down menu in the far right column. Gather information about the presidential race, your state's Senate and Congressional races and any or all ballot initiatives.

Each section has extensive information available about all the candidates and proposed amendments and is highly impartial.

So, go on, pick up the sword, wield the power... it's about time you were in the know.

Marilyn Monroe I Am Not*

2004-10-05T13:26:00.000-04:00

*But not for lack of effort.

For two days in a row I have worn a skirt and a pair of hose (I know; get over it). This morning's skirt was long and flowing, cascading to my ankles. After coming out of the subway station, while waiting to cross the street, I stood over a subway vent, completely oblivious to the (I learned a moment later) inevitable fate.

As a train careened into the station below, a WHOOSH of air blew my skirt up who-knows-how-high (the pantyhose prevented me from feeling anything on my legs). I let fly with a surprised Wooooo! and danced away from the grate, smoothing down my skirt and looking around for revealing smiles indicating a free peep show. None were found, which tells me there was either too little skin revealed or too little interest shown.

It's All Coming Together...

2004-10-05T11:15:00.000-04:00

So the HR Rep (Stephanie) walked into my office this morning and we got to chatting about the woman who was in my position before me and that they were looking to fill her vacancy. I mentioned that I was considering throwing my hat in the ring and she encouraged me to do so. So she forwarded me the ad and tomorrow I'll bring in a cover letter and (tidied) résumé.

This could be me, eh?

Executive Assistant to the CEO

Leading direct service and advocacy organization has exciting opportunity for a well-organized, motivated professional with strong interpersonal and communication skills to work with the CEO and provide day-to-day administrative support, help in preparing for board meetings, and oversight of office services and administrative staff. Candidates should have a Bachelor’s degree, prior administrative experience, strong computer and internet skills, and ability to take on special projects. Competitive salary and benefits. Resume, cover letter and sal. reqs to: The Partnership for the Homeless, HR Representative, 305 Seventh Avenue, NY, NY 10001.

Joining the Morning Commute

2004-10-04T16:01:00.000-04:00

This morning I strapped on a pair of pantyhose, tucked my dress shoes in my bag, piled on my walking shoes and clamoured out of my flat, headed for Manhattan. I got a job, I beamed, and I'm going to it right now.

The commute was easy as pie; I waited for the bus maybe 3 minutes and got off at the Woodside 7 station. I stood on the platform (and felt the air, the air, the air on my face) and waited 5 minutes for the 7 Express. After trying to push my way onto the train and folks REFUSING to move to the middle of the car to make room at the ends, the conducter closed the doors on me; I looked at him with a pathetic Uh, I'm standing in the doorway here look and he just shook his head. So I bitched up and stepped back. Other than that, the commute was quick and easy. The 28th St stop on the 9 line is RIGHT across the street from the PFTH office, though I didn't discover that until I wandered around a bit, trying to gather my bearings.

I found the office with a half hour to spare and had a bagel 'n coffee in Rosa's Cafe across the street; bagel and a coffee- $2.45. I discovered the main office entrance under the scaffolding (7th Ave side) and was a good ten minutes early, eager to make a positive impression with my (potential) employers/possible recommendation.

Stephanie Ray, human resources, greeted me showed me to my desk (an office with a view of the NYC skyline). I met Arnold Cohen, the president of the organisation- I am his personal secretary. Suh-weet.

I spent the whole morning trying to to figure out what the hell I was supposed to be doing (i.e. re-arranging my desk, digitalising Mr. Cohen's Rolodex, reading thoroughly the NY Times- maybe my job description was in there-, squeezing in some OHO time, crossing and uncrossing my legs, etc.), and once I gave up on that I went to lunch; pizza and a coke from Rosa's- $4.25.

What does it feel like to be an Employed New Yorker? Quite a bit like being an Unemployed New Yorker, only I have to sit up straight, wear pantyhose and be self-conscious. Can I complain about this job? Probably eventually, but not today.

Being a temp is cake. And for $13 an hour, it's better 'n the New York Cheese kind. And hey- it keeps me off the streets.

Mulligan Mob

2004-09-28T16:11:00.000-04:00

So I stumbled across this site today... thought you would be amused by it. I was. My name is The Gimp, but don't mess with my 'cos my brother is The Enforcer, my mom Killer and my dad The Mortician. I may not be much, but my whole crew will f*ck you up!

A Russian Lesbian Witch; the Worst Kind

2004-09-28T16:05:00.000-04:00

Because I have a backyard and because I have food waste and because I've had the curiousity for some time now, I thought it only logical to have a compost pile.

My flatmate OK'd the idea, but said we can't just throw our food waste in a pile in the backyard and call it a "compost pile," that we would have to put a little more effort into it. So I've been doing research today on how to get this little project started. A friend suggested I "wander around Queens with a heavy duty trash bag and ask people for all of their yard waste." I thought it might be a good way to get to know the neighbors but that I might impress upon them the wrong idea of me. Then again, is that such a bad idea of me to have?

I'm told that cats will not compost (unless, of course, they're dead). But that a dead/decaying creature would make THE PERFECT START to a compost pile.

life feeds on life feeds on life feeds on life feeds on life...

Unfamiliar Ground

2004-09-26T14:13:00.000-04:00

I have never understood depression. That is, until I realised I had it. I always believed that our minds are strong enough to overcome any doubts or "emotional weaknesses." I never knew what it was to not be able to function until I couldn't.

No, my depression isn't filled with days laying in bed crying and starving myself. My depression isn't an overall negative or hopeless view of the world. My depression isn't filled with self-hatred or suicidal thoughts. It is not fueled with drug use or alcohol abuse (though, sometimes, it is). My depression is not without occasional joy.

My depression gives me apathy, causes me to lose interest in everything I was enamoured with before. My depression keeps me from answering the phone, returning phone calls and, when I do, I dread making them. My depression is an utter drain of my energy. I can't funtion on depression. I can't do schoolwork or get a job becauase I can't send emails or make the phone call. My depression keeps me in the house all day, even on glorious Indian Summer days. I feel completely powerless. I am frightened by depression. I don't want to give it power, but it is powerful.

Some days are, of course, better than others. I can still write, though that ability fluctuates. I can still laugh and make others laugh, but only when I have the energy to talk to them in the first place.

I have spent the last two months not understanding my condition, wondering what was wrong with me. I have felt shame and all manner of bad about myself. I have avoided friends and family in an attemptt to hide from myself and from their disappointment, as well as my own. I couldn't get an internship, not because of procrastination (procrastination is only procrastination if you eventually actually go through with the task), but because I didn't have the energy to do the necessary work to accomplish my goal. I am doing poorly in my English course not because it is too difficult, but because I can't find the will to work.

Because I never believed depression is a legitimate illness, I have a hard time accepting it as an excuse for my behaviour. Maybe you prefer to call depression "laziness." If so, then laziness is debilitating and I need help overcoming it. And few words of encouragement have helped thusfar, so please don't tell me to 'just do it.' It's not that simple. I mean, I know it is, but it's just not.

Last night I had a ritual in the backyard to help rid me of my Love Demons. I burned letters never sent to clease my mind of my fixation. I released myself from my own shackles, maybe I even released her in some way. Then I came inside and took a candle-lit bubble bath to physically cleanse my body, taking time to admire my newly gained weight and stretchmarks (beautymarks). I came to bed and fell asleep listening to Tori and had dreams where I was thrust into a situation of living with people I didn't know, à la The Real World or Fear Factor. In the dream I took out mounds and mounds of trash. In fact, aside from choosing a turkey, that was the focus of the dream. I thought about what a wonderful metaphor that was, how getting out of this depression will require a lot of trash removal and how, last night, I was actually taking out the emotional trash I had been pack-ratting all the way from janvier.

Now that I understand my condition better, I feel better equipped to handle it. I don't expect you to understand it, but ask that you are patient with me as I move through it. For the time being, I am planning a period of understanding and absorption. I want to try to slog through this without the aide of prescription medication, though if it comes to that it comes to that. This is a strange place for me to be, but rather than fear and hide from it I'm going to accept and welcome it in. Perhaps I need this before I can function again at full tilt. My worry is that if I don't indulge this, I will never be at full strength again.

If you'll excuse me I am now going to get dressed, open the shutters and let out the cats.

Erin Steps Out

2004-09-24T13:37:00.000-04:00

I don't know that I can express the vibe I get while rambling around this great city. There is something so magical about mingling with complete strangers, something so fulfilling. Any sense of loneliness I had prior melts away as I brush shoulders and touch outer thighs with folks I have never seen before and will, likely, never see again. So many different faces to study, so much to wonder about. I know I make it out to be more dramatic than it is, but I just adore being a part of it. I can't wait to be a contributing member of this society. Have a purpose when I walk down the street, as opposed to just meandering along.

My favourite part may be the mass transit. I love sharing that cramped space on a bus or train with people I don't know. I love secretly studying their features and averting my eyes when they catch me. This game greatly amuses me. I love the stark silence between us. Most of all, I love how people rub elbows and shoulders for 15 minutes at a time without looking at each other once, let alone knowing their name.

I love flashing grins at complete strangers and getting broad smiles in return. Today I was walking down the street with an origami flower in my hand. As I approached a man walking in the opposite direction, we caught each other's eye and he pointed to the ground behind me and said, "Hey! You dropped your flower!" Without thinking, I immediately looked, panicked something else had fallen from my bag. Sure enough my flower was still in my hand, enveloped in my palm and five fingers. He laughed heartily and I grinned as we walked past each other.

I picked up the flower at a theatrical protest across the street from the UN building; General Assembly was in session and they were there to inform people about the travesty of Falun Gong in China. I was excited that the General Assembly was in town; it's one of the rare occasions the UN flies all the world flags in front of the building, so I was there to take pictures and observe, catch glimpses of world leaders and diplomats. As I walked down 42nd St from Grand Central Station, a police-escorted motorcade 15 cars long drove by, stopping traffic and me dead in our tracks. There were cars full of armed men in military attire carrying big guns, security guys wearing sunglasses and talking into their cuffs, and dignitaries with turbans. No flags were flying on any of the cars. I got excited at the prospect of being inside the building amonst those people.

As I approached the UN block, I discoverd that fantasy was exactly that; I wasn't even able to be on the same side of the street as the UN, hahaha. Nope, getting across the police line required a special badge and a purpose for being there (other than observation). Oh, well. I sauntered around by the barriers, took pictures of the flags, looked at all the important do-gooders walking by and wanted desperately for my life to have the kind of meaning theirs did.

Oo! And the day before, I took the D train down to Coney Island. I was riding the subway all day, looking for photo opportunities when I got a bug up my ass to go down the beach. I thought, "Hey. Just 'cos I left Florida doesn't mean I have to leave the beach." Ironically, going to Coney Island was the first time I'd been to the beach since early July.

The place was deserted and run down. I had a Nathan's Famous Hot Dog for the novelty of it, bought some posties and a soft serve, walked around on the boardwalk and didn't take my shoes off as I crossed the sand to get to the shore. Poor New Yorkers. I can't believe this is their idea of a beach.

Home is the Feeling I Buried in You*

2004-09-24T13:33:00.000-04:00

*

Because I want to keep ya'll updated and because, somedays, I can't muster up the courage to call people and let them know I'm doing alright, I have created this blog for you. I know it's not the same as a phone call or email, but sometimes it's the best I can do. Feel free to share this with anyone. I mind not. I hope you enjoy/appreciate this. I'll keep it updated whenever I have news and sometimes just to rant 'n rave.

I love you. Thanks for making this (me) possible. I am Eternally Grateful (EG Muddy).