topicless babe

that's what i am sam. i got nothing pressing to talk about except i really like living alone and i still want a cigarette. i been playing this game with my friends where i say "hey, i want a cigarette" and they say "no" and i say "ok" --the urge is less frequent and certainly less severe than it was. it's been like three months you know. (who knew?) but i say it as soon as i urge it because than i purge it rather than dwell on it and obsess about it. it's my therapy, ay?

so i played this game once when i was in minnesota (over thanksgiving) with my minnesota friends, and they didn't know the rules. so when i said "hey, i want a cigarette" angela looked me in the eye with a determined expression and said "ok, leslie, this is what i'm gonna do," and she took out a parliment (loved the parles) light and said "i'm gonna light it and give you ONE drag, and you will see how much you hate it" and proceeded to light it....i then did the unthinkable. unthinkable for my minnesota friends at least--i refused. partly because i was pretty sure ONE drag WOULD be enjoyable and not icky, and even if it was icky, i would have to deal with icky, and i didn't want that. see, all this time, when i was saying i want a cigarette (and i'll say it again, you can damn well be sure) i was lying just a little. because i don't WANT a cigarette. i happen to enjoy not being stinky, and being able to take longer deep breaths and run for the train without feeling like death. i enjoy that my heart no longer does that weird skip-a-beat thing (oh yeah, it was time to quit) but i still want something...it's an urge i used to satisfy by smoking. now when i feel it i kind of want to eat. and it makes me ansty. and anxious. and i know when you are hanging out with me it is better for me to say "i want a cigarette" and for you to say "no" then it is for me to say nothing at all because then the tension in the room would rise about 4.5 degrees and you would be all "why am i so uncomfortable? i like leslie and all, but damn, it's all like, weird up in here" but you would be saying this in your head and then the tension would rise a few more degrees and we would start feeding into each other's anxiety and that is just not fun. nosiree. so, you know, learn the game, people. know the rules if yer gonna play. geez.

In other news, my twin brother and his lady are having a baby girl in february. one of my college friends is having a baby boy in April. I am so at that stage where my friends are starting to have babies. yikes and wow. My friend, the one having the boy, optimistically said that her son will be ring-bearer age by the time I get married. I was like, wow, man you are so psychic knowing not only WHEN I'll hitch it up but that I would even invite her and her son....ok JUST KIDDING. Of course assuming I ever get married and her little one is of the appropriate age and the future hubby has no other candidates.....crap now I am exhausted just thinking about that mess.

New topic: Babies are cute
New topic: My apartment is chilly
New topic: I am no longer a fan of reading
ok, that's a lie. but i am no longer a fan of reading books that movies are based on just before i go to see the movie. but i get so excited to see some of my favorite stories brought to life that i can't wait. i dip into the forbidden well and it (lately) has quite dampened the experience of a seemingly phenomenal movie (harry potter, lion witch and the wardrobe) never LOTR, nothing could dampen that. does that make me weird? recently some folks told me that they didn't really get into the books. i almost had a heart attack. those books were my saving grace in childhood, helped me escape an unhappy world. i am reading a really good book now. I actually bought it to send to abs in China but now I am riveted. RIVETED. I really should send it to her, it's called God Passes By. I love reading and I love words and I love perversion of words and slang butchering the english language and completely disrespecting grammar and editing rules on my blog and so on. so forth.

my cat has this thing where she likes to sit by me, or on me, when i am lying down watching tv, or--in this case typing on the laptop. she manages almost everytime to pick the spot where her butt is in my face, or close to it, and her tail blocks my view while she purrs purrs purrs. it's like she has no concept of my line of vision, or decorum. i mean, what cat doesn't have a sense of decorum? come on now. i'm supposed to pet you now?

(i think i'm a bit slap happy)

g'nite......har har

quit dousing my wonderment

i am a little annoyed at the people who like to remind me that i am young. when i was 18 i thought i was pretty grown, and when i was 22, i realized 'grown' is a relative term. i am aware that occasionally i make comments that highlight my relative youth when speaking to people who are older than me, but the deprecating "you're young" with the tone to imply "you are foolish" or "you just have the incapability to understand the way I do" is not so much welcome.

this is not a huge thing. just something i have thought to myself many times over the years. lately, b/c i have the blessing of being surrounded by people who have the ability to love and respect, for the most part, this happens less and less these days.

but now, just for speculation.... people who say "you're still young" when you tell them your age are usually no more than 5 years older than me. (people my parents age who say this are...exempt from this speculation) they say it not necessarily with condescension, not everytime anyway. most times its "how old are you?" "28" "oh, you're still young" as though this were the automatic response one was required to say.....but sometimes it's a sort of an unspoken "well just you remember that i am older than you" but ok, so, am I somehow proud of "turning" 28? Is there a pride in my voice when I say my age and people feel the need to remind me that nothing, in fact, has been accomplished to be proud of just because I survived another year of living? Maybe that is it, maybe that is why it offends me so....but I am thinking, when will these people, these 30 yr olds and 33 year olds and 29 year olds stop saying, oh you're still young?

at some point, (age 53, maybe) will they start saying, "you're getting up there?" or "you are the perfect age" These numbers lose their significance the more I think about them, certainly with each new birthday....from now on when people say deprecatingly, you're still young, I am going to merely say, well I am older today than I was yesterday and that is a new experience for me, and I like that!

Because I do.

I like my life and I like my age and I like thinking about yesterday and how it changed me today and how my age is one way of assessing time-positive things occur in time like growth and friendships and college degrees and house plants and seasons and the like. I am still young but I don't want to think of it as "still" because that implies that someday I will no longer be young (which is true) but that somehow, when my youth has passed, so will some form of carefree life....and that ain't no way of looking at things, you know?

anyway, i had a good birthday. tame. a friend took me out to an expensive dinner and i bought a pretty velvet jacket and danced a little and wore glittery jewelry and ate pumpkin cheesecake with a candle in it. did not eat the candle. loved ones called me (ABI called from China) and sang wonderful and varying happy birthday songs (didn't know there were so many) and I smiled a lot yesterday.

Hooray for getting older!

winter wonder yah

i woke up this morning and the world was fluffy white. trust minnesota to deliver. it's still snowing like a banshee. (i think like a banshee is a minnesota thing) Kari and I had a GREAT drive, semi-adventureous, and she met my family and now she is somewhere near Duluth, probably covered in more snow that we are.
now i need some snow pants so i can go sledding. well ok i think i will just go to target instead.....and eat turkey leftovers later.

CHILDHOOD INSTA-RECALL

HOW TO RECALL CHILDHOOD INSTANTLY:

1. Rediscover Apple Juice

2. Read Green Eggs and Ham before going to bed at night. (Occasionally switch to the Cat in the Hat, or One Fish Two Fish...)

3. Make someone read Shel Silverstein to you.

4. Put on lots of layers of clothes and go fall down in the snow. Make a snow angel.

5. Eat copious amounts of grilled cheese sandwiches and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, without the crust.

6. Buy a night light and use it. (They got really cool ones these days, way better than when we were children)

7. Gather all the pillows and blankets in your house and make a fort using the table and chairs.

8. Line all the stuffed animals in the house around your bed to fight off the monsters.

9. Watch your favorite show ten times in a row until you know all the words. Then say them aloud everytime you watch it.

10. Stare wide-eyed at everyone around you. Smile when they look at you funny and laugh if they make a face.

Spaghetti Day

Wednesday is Spaghetti Day. The day when my entire family eats spaghetti. Kind of funny, right? Why spaghetti? Why that day? Well, I am going to just go ahead and tell you. See, you can't stop me, because this is my blog. I get to decide what goes in it. You get to decide to read it and you could stop now, but I bet if you've made it this far, you won't. Doesn't matter, cuz I'm still going cogitate on the matter regardless.

Does it have to be Prego? Why yes it does. The Chicago faction has dropped the carrot sticks and added salad and Cory's famous garlic bread, while the St. Paul faction may or may not have dropped the chocolate cake requirement a few years ago due to the calorie content....red wine is optional in Chicago, pretty much a big no-no in St. Paul. Meat, also optional, changes year to year. But the main thing is that the Garretts and the Claeys' eat spaghetti.

It's what we do, to commemorate, celebrate the day, that we all came together and became a family. It was the day my twin and I moved in, not the official adoption, cuz that happened a year later in a court downtown St. Paul. I was wearing a nicer dress then, that fit. I signed some papers saying, yes, I did want these two particular individuals to be my parents. I was seven then. But the day we moved in. Now that was a strange day. We were six years old. We knew it was going to happen.

Here is how it started: Mommy Lynn sat us down for a talk one day. She had decided to adopt us. She said if we were good and said good things about her to the social workers that she would take us to Valley Fair. I had always wanted to go to Valley Fair. I knew enough about what to tell the social workers and what not to tell them. In fact I knew so much that I actually forgot what I knew I knew. There was a lot we didn't say. Knew it would end up getting us arrested and in jail. So I forgot it, for years actually-because what six year old wants to go to jail? We kept our mouths shut, afterall- we loved our Mommy Lynn. There was another mommy years ago but she stopped loving us (that's what Mommy Lynn said) so we sort of just tried to forget about her. And we tried to do right by Mommy Lynn, she was the only one who was willing to love us, you see. But even though we loved her right well, we still had dreams. Every night I prayed to God to bring me a pretty mommy who would love me because I was me. I wasn't sure if such a mom existed, but I thought I would ask for one just the same. Then Mommy Lynn starts saying all that about 'adopting'.

But the social workers came instead to tell us there were some other people who wanted to adopt us. My brother and I looked at each other in complete surprise-who could possibly possibly.....but it was true. The social workers brought a photo album. The woman was pale like my Mommy Lynn, but with red hair. Actually, fire orange. The man was big and dark, darker than me and my brother. How strange, we thought-they looked sooooooo strange. Come to think of it, neither of us had ever seen a red-headed white person, or a dark black man. At the time I thought it was a sign, realizing for the first time that we never really fit in where we were. All the neighbors called us n^%^ers and Mommy Lynn always had us scrubbing for hours in a hot tub because we were too dirty and dark. But it turns out people were actually just 'that' color.

I remember when they came over the first time, with more pictures of their two kids, mixed pretty as you please and I was fascinated. Once coaxed from behind the couch, that is. We had two sleep-overs. We both got Care Bears. And there were so many cool toys, and the clothes these kids wore (my potential siblings), well they fit! They weren't too big or too small.

But the house smelled funny-different, there was no carpet just hardwood so the stairs creaked and they left lights in the hallways on, where I was used to darkness and tip-toeing. And I still wanted to go to Valley Fair. I was pretty sure I would NEVER get to ride a roller coaster if we let these people take us, but it was so clear that they WANTED us. Like no one ever had before. Someone wanted us? How fricking strange is that, right? Liked us? No way, never happen. But it was happening and somewhere along the way I forgot about Valley Fair (until years later, the 5th grade spring field trip, when I was grounded from it and couldn't go, drat) and agreed, we agreed, to let them be our new family.

I remember moving in day. The station wagon that arrived to pick us up. The sister being so bossy and excited, and the brother being so loud. We, my brother and I, were shy and quiet. Lynn watched from the window as we and our most special toys (he-man and teddy bear and doll) and our suitcase full of clothes that were ten years out of style and sizes too big and small, drove away. She looked real sad. My new sister was the one who burst into tears then. She saw how heart-broken she was. We were kind of glad, though....

The new neighborhood kids were in the backyard of my new home when we got there. They knew we were coming and wanted to know if we would all play with them. We had to put our stuff away. On my new bed, the pink care bear sat, looking at me. I put my things down and went to play. Then, yep, you guessed it. Spaghetti.

Hooray for spaghetti.

There is a plan

It's no coincidence that I just got done reading the parts in Ruhi Book 1 AND Some Answered Questions that were about the soul.

I have no concern as to where she is right now. I am loathe to say she is in a better place, because it is cliche and, well, I'm still pretty sure I'd rather have her here than there. At least for now.

The chain of events is this:

She called me at exactly 6:42PM on November 6. I was in a good mood, had a great party the night before, and I was getting ready to be a part of my first deepening. I heard her cheery voice at the other end and smiled. We exchanged the latest news in our lives, she told me all about how her PhD concentration at school was now going to be sexually abused children. I told her I was very excited because I knew how good a therapist she could be to children, especially in that capacity. I told her I quit smoking. She congratulated me. I told her I loved her so much but that I had to go, but that I really wanted to talk to her again soon. She said, come visit me here in Florida. I said, definitely. She said she loved me too.

She also called Bill that night.

She also called Liz.

She also called her Mom.

Monday she spoke with her aunt and that is the last anyone heard from her.

Someone, I think it was her sister, realized her cell phone had been shut off on Tuesday. She was the only one who could have done this...

Wednesday they found her body and a note. She said she was just tired of being sad all the time. She signed the note with a smiley face.

So for days she knew, she knew when I said I would come visit her, she knew then. And the conviction to die stayed with her for several days.

I can't break into that pain, if I could even understand it, I probably wouldn't be here.

She had enough problems. We all were there for them, had them ourselves, in fact, it's what made us all close at one time or another. Slowly but surely, though, we found other paths. All of us. And she found herself with friends but not superheros. And she left us, moved to Seattle and then to Florida for school. I was worried. But I couldn't follow her out there. And I couldn't ease her pain, and I couldn't change her reality. But I do not feel guilty. Because I had time to prepare, and now I just need some time to grieve. To reconcile the fact that yes, I will never hear her voice again, nor see her face again, nor have her make some ridiculous joke again, nor sit on a back porch with her again, smoke with her again, talk about boys with her again, walk dogs with her again, laugh with her again, or cry with her again.

But I will be with her again. I believe that. So for now I will just be patient.

is this what sadness looks like?

she was bright and shiny most of the time. doom and gloom some of the time. i said she'd end up dead and she now she is dead. she was my best bestest of friends at one time. we are in shock, which is no shock really.

she took the pills and said goodbye without saying goodbye.

molly why did you think so badly of the world that you had to leave it?

molly you know how much i loved you.

that's the way i see it today.

Not a compliment: Leslie, you seem like you would be a good sales person! That makes sense that that is what you do.

Compliment: Really, sales? That is not what I would picture you doing at all. Sales? Hmmm...that's weird.


Comment number one was from an uncle several months ago when they, my aunt and uncle, took me out for lunch and gave me a cat.

Comment number two was from this morning, a friend of 7 years, ran into him on the train at 730am. He asked, "What is it you do, anyway?" Last time he and I spoke of jobs (mine, in particular) I was a reading tutor on the west side of Chicago for underprivileged children. I loved that job. That's where I was first called Miss Leslie. That was like, four years ago.

This morning in the sales meeting we discovered that I had the best sales last week. I sold $8,851 worth of promotional products. Go me. My biggest order was for 7,000 New Mother's Kits, to Sudbury District Health in Canada. Good clients. Unfotunately, I still did not make my weekly sales goal. If you do the math I actually sold -$4,149. (I was supposed to sell somewhere in the vicinity of $13,000.) By the way, this number is supposed to be 'motviating'. I am supposed to see that and be all, motivated.

I am going to be about numbers right now.

If I made my sales goal every week, I would make this company $676,000 a year. If I got 10% comission, I would make $67,000. That would be nice. (I don't make my sales goal) and I don't make comission. I make less than half that salary. Considerably less. The thing is, I am thinking about it. I don't really want to be thinking about it. But I am. Go away, thoughts about money. I hate you. Bleh.

caramel macchiatos and nina simone

and here i sit wondering that it took me this long to discover the wonder of nina. ne me quitte pas. moi, je ne parle pas francais bien, mais je sais qe'elle est tres tres magnifique, non? je prendrait des courses de langue plus d'huit annees.....mais, let me just quit that right now. it's been too long since i had to write in french. ah the starbucks.... and the first espresso i have had in maybe two years, settling in, as i get ready to write an article that at this moment i do not want to write. much rather cuddle on the couch with the cat and watch bad television. instead i am ingesting caffeine preparing for an all-nighter as though i were still in college. note: i am not still in college which means i can't stay up all night, go to class and then take a nap afterwards, no i have to stay bright and shiny for nine hours at work after this. ugh. well maybe i will miss the deadline. i'm such a bad journalist. ugh. ugh. i know that in my lead i want to talk about the definition of family and how it has changed over the years, the problem with that notion is trying to say something like that without cliches is like trying walk through a puddle without splashing. one must walk very carefully.....plus i only have three human sources and technically i should have, well, more. but i was looking through the mag and (the good thing about mags over papers is) they seem to like social commentary by the writers as much as social commentary by the interviewees, meaning, I can get away with writing this in the first person and spouting a few opinions of my own, even an experience or two of my own, which goodness knows, i've had...thing is, i hadn't, up til now, thought to write in that kind of voice. hence, the espresso. i need to ponder this one awhile. nina is hearing the sound of mandalays. i want to hear the sound of mandalays too, trouble is, i am not sure what a mandalay sounds like.
ok. hmmm....ok i got a paragraph, founded in absolutely no fact at all but it's a start. it's a start in the right direction certainly. now you know what i realize, i am hitting another milestone. i have had this assignment for weeks, i have sat down to write it at least 4 times, each time giving up. and you know why??????because of that stupid cigarette. writing like that, begs calls screams for nicotine. i am so so so so so so so wanting a cigarette. i take the deep breaths. but each time i pause and search my brain for the solution to the word puzzle i'm figuring, my body calls for the inhaling pleasure of smoke. don't worry i am not going to crash. i am just saying it because saying it sometimes makes it go away. ok. wish me luck. by the time i get your wish, hopefully i will be done with this baby. cigarette free and done. this saturday makes two months of no smoking. who knew?????

i am so not into chocolate

goll durn people feeding me chocolate. i say no and they leave it at my desk and as the hours go on i eat and eat and eat first one, than two, now six. dagnabbit. i am watching firefly at home. joss whedon has such a distinct recognizable style, i love his characters. just saw the one where malcolm almost dies on his ship on account of a broken engine piece. so classic joss. loved it. i wish i was at home with this sugar high 'steada here at work, not working. guilt being pushed on back to the back of my brain. it is 329 pm and it looks about night time to me. yuk. we had a costume contest earlier. i was a judge. the winner was a tornado. she attached little toy cows to her and did twirlies around the office. she even made a small howling wind sound. it was pretty much the high point of my day. i just took a sales call for a woman who wants to order mugs or memo boards as a giveaway item for the dental office where she works. i gotta quote 300 pieces to her and hope that she is willing to pay the price i give her. it is actually more stimulating to write about it than to do it. if all goes well, she buys and i get a little closer to my $3000 a day sales goal. can i tell you that that sales goal is not likely!

november is the best month of the year

it starts right after halloween-it's when fall turns into winter, and winter is still beautiful and romantic. it is the month before christmas carols and lights and santa claus. it is the month of anticipation. it is the month of thanksgiving, where i get to eat my dad's yummy turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie and i get to argue with brothers and sister that i don't see nearly enough. it is the month of my birth, it is the month of my adoption, it is the most celebratory month in my year, my life. and i love it.

umm. ok. 4 halloween parties.....lots of animals.

can i just ask, since when was a mouse or cat sexy? my cat addy, NOT so sexy. cute and cuddly, yes, but not sexy. i am much more a fan of the witty costume, or the imitator costume, than the sexy dog/cat/mouse or skirt costume. i saw a lot of short short skirts this weekend. and last night less than skirts, even. it was pretty bad. it always is. the state of things, they need to change, i'm thinking......but two of the four parties had AWESOME costumes. just awesome.

oh me so handy/i'm no carpenter

I got my couch last night. It was actually a loveseat, since I had determined that would best fit in my place after having to get rid of my couch. Ii had to bribe my bro's fiance to drive me all the way out to the UPS facility at 9545 W. Fullerton. That is way the crap out there, by the way. Of course, when we got there, we couldn't fit the box in the trunk (duh) we had to take it out of the box and transport it in pieces. Then we had to squeeze me and her 7 year old son in the passenger side in the front, and her with her 6 month pregnant self drove. Precious cargo. We drove very carefully. I came home and assembled. I have assembled just about everything in my apartment. I actually enjoy it. I even took down the closet shutter doors and reassembled them correctly, my landlord had put them on crooked.

Overall assembly has taken me an embarassing amount of hours. But I did it all with no help. It really is my own place now. Happy happy. I like tools. Something to know, I guess.

I'm TRYING SO HARD

not to be angry and bitter but why oh why can't I just be me and be free? that sounds cheesy. last night I decided to save cab fare and take the train at 1145 pm and walk the four blocks to my house. naive me, silly me..to think I could just be a woman, wearing a bulky full length sweater and jeans and slip on shoes, silly me to think that men wouldn't think i was a prostitute, because, after all, why would a woman be walking around at that time of night if she wasn't looking for a trick? i mean why don't i just buy a car or spend $25 on a cab, i mean, apparently that's what non-hookers do. i am mad for so many different things. i said prayers last night and fell asleep calm but now i am mad again. angry. pissed off. i mean, two cars, one full of white boys, 20-somethings, and another, an single asian man, actually followed me slowly in his car down the street trying to get me in his car until i called on a neighbor for help (glad he was there) and the neighbor chased him away. but come on. i just want to be invisible sometimes. ok now i want to rant, last night there was a black man on the train who was chanting while staring intensely at a white man 'racist, bigot, rapist, racist bigot rapist racist bigot rapist" the man he was chanting to was doing a fine job of ignoring him, but the chanting man got closer and louder. when he noticed i was watching he began to stare at me and chant "sell out, uncle tom, bigot, sell out uncle tom bigot" I stared him down and he stopped eventually. I realize people are unhappy misled frustrated mistreated and miserable and the insult did not seep in as much as it could have, at the time, because I felt he must be in so much pain that one semi-harmless chanting insult relieved it in a much safer way than if he kept it bottled in, and I am strong and know myself. But it's hard not to feel powerless in a bad way when most of the contact you have in an evening is degrading.

ugh

It's 950am and the morning shield has fallen and the realization that I am thoroughly dissatisfied with my job has settled in. On several different levels. Also, dissatisfied with trying to converse with certain people. It seems like there is an undercurrent. Of course there is an undercurrent. But it seems like some people are determined to down play you and dismiss you with their discreet verbage. It's a numbers game, people. I just don't want to play.

redtailed hawk

one is sitting outside my office window with a dead pigeon, balancing on the branches of the tree. whoops he just fell!

his prey was too heavy. can't see him anymore that was pretty awesome.

and then she screamed......

I woke up this morning to see a large centipede on the ceiling above my bed. (I googled centipedes-apparently they come out in the fall in droves and my garden apartment is like, the best place for them!) Since he was not moving and I was groggy, I did not feel any fear like I used to. I felt a bit repulsed (is that another form of fear?) but not motivated enough to find a way to reach it and kill it. I used to 'fear' spiders too....

But so anyway, I was just thinking about fear. How many different types of fear there are, and all the times in my life I have been afraid of irrational and also completely rational things. The near car accidents, the actual car accidents, falling/slipping down stairs, thinking about losing something or someone, being alone, doing something you have never done before, watching movies... Remember 'Watcher in the Woods'? Everybody I know who saw this Disney movie when they were younger swears to this day it was the SCARIEST they have ever seen. I must have seen it when I was eight, and man....but you know I believe if I saw it today it would not be scary.

Living alone makes me a little jumpy. Today I opened the back door and looming above me was this great imposing figure standing on the stairwell framed against the dawn light. My heart immediately went from 0 to 70. In the span of a second, I thought "Who or what is this creature at my back door, how did it get here through the locked gate and if I shut the door will it go away or disappear?" Then I realized it was the trash bin, and it had been moved from it's position slightly as it was emptied the previous day. Relief flowed through me and the humor of my mistake settled in and calmed the frazzled nerves, but I know this is not the last time something like this will happen.

A couple of years ago I actually rented "The Birds"1963 "The Haunting" 1963, "House on Haunted Hill" 1959 and watched them all again in an attempt to dispel some of the worse remembered fears of my life. I had viewed each at the tender age of 6. And for years the images would haunt me. (Ha ha, I said haunt.) I made my boyfriend of the time sit up with me through the movies, trying to recreate this romantic ideal-me afraid, he protecting. Yeah, he fell asleep, the bastard. 15 minutes into the first movie. I kept waking him and he kept stirring: "Huh? huh? Oh, it's ok, uh, Leslie" at which point he would pat me on the shoulder and fall back asleep. I was infuriorated.

And scared out of my wits. "The Birds-- not so scary, but the other two? DO NOT WATCH ALONE IN A BIG HOUSE AT NIGHT. That's my advice. Scary at 6, still scary at 25. I think that's how old I was when I last watched them. Maybe 24, I don't remember. Either way, I am not likely to re-watch them in my 30s in hopes of conquering fears again. Silly me, you know? Truly good films because of it, I must say.

The scariest book I ever read was IT. And the once recurring nightmare that spawned from my reading that book in high school has brought me to the realization today, of the number 1 most scary "thing" for me! Everybody has a thing they are most 'fraid of. As of today, I am aware that the concept of being seen by someone or something THAT SHOULD NOT be able to see you is the scariest thing for me.

In my nightmare, I was sitting in the dining room of my parent's house on a sunny summer day. The front door to the porch was open, and from my seat, I could see through my dining room, through the living room, out through the blinds of the windows on the front porch to see the cars pass by on the street, the neighbors across the street mowing, and I could even see a bit of cars that drove down the alley behind the houses across the street. Now, there is no way any person in that alley across the street would be able to see me. He/She might see a sliver of my house, but not view into the house three rooms back on a sunny day and see me. It would be too dark. You know what I am talking about. But It did see me. He was walking through that alley and he stopped and turned slowly, looking directly at me with a huge razor teeth grin and saw me looking at him. He lifted one large clown foot and stepped in my direction. He came traipsing through the bushes of someone's backyard and then down the hilly lawn of their front lawn and started to cross the street all the while staring at me and grinning. And growing as he did too, in height. He started off being 'normal man height' and grew to be about 8 or 9 feet tall-and he approached my front door and I couldn't move. I couldn't warn my family, most of which were sitting on the living room floor and would be eaten first.....they didn't know he was coming...That was the dream. I was so terrified. It happened several times over the course of years. I haven't had that dream for a long time. Inability to hide, I guess, if I could psychoanalyze that shiznit-I wanted to be invisible but the monster would always see me seek me out....

Anyway, I was on the train the other day and looking at the buildings as we flew by them and through the cloudy pained glass of one building, a silhouette of a figure stood there staring out. (And I remembered "Jacob's Ladder" when he sees those figures looking at him from the train....) And I imagined it standing there, waiting for my train to pass, because it knew I was going to be there.....and it was watching me even though it shouldn't have been able to see me. Ok, I am done. Let me give a literary shudder. There. Now I have to actually work......

stood up

i got all fresh and clean and came to starbucks to converse with abi in china and she stood me up, or maybe she thinks i stood her up because i was 20 minutes late, but still.

i got bored and imagined this is what i would have said to her had she not stood me up and not been able to talk back but just listen:

It took me 25 minutes to walk here and I have to go to the bathroom but I don't want leave my computer so I will tough it out 'til I gotta go. Sitting in a coffee shop is so so strange, I feel pretentious with my laptop. Did you know Saturday mornings are preserved, apparently, for families with toddlers? And the line right now is pratically out the door. Did you perchance fall asleep? I ordered a 'vanilla creme' thinking I was being all daring and experimental and it turns out it's just a steamer. i drink those bitches all the time. But when I ordered lady barista was all like "Would you like some food to go with your warmness?" and I said no because I had surreptitiously eaten a banana and wheat english muffin before stepping out, and then the gentleman barista was like..."frozen or steamed?" and lady barista said, "Steamed" with such a finality and I think we all felt that "STEAMED" signified, yes, the end of summner and warmth and the beginning of coldness and winter. The lady barista smiled what I will call a wry snmile and I merely waited to warm my hands on the 'vanilla creme'.

People keep trying to wheel their unnaturally large strollers by me and my compu-briefcase purchased for 10% of it's market vaklue through my job, (that's a perk of working in the promo product industry) and apologizing for rolling over the strap, which refuses to stay anywhere but in the way, and they don't realize how much I don't care, because, well I don't really.

It is gray and cold here in Chi town. (Kari says Shytown) Not too windy. My new neighborhood has a lot of German bars. One Indian restaurant. Two italian restaurants. A modern Mexican fusion place, not sure about that but it looks posh. A bar/diner called the Daily that has just about everything on a menu you could want including shepards pie, tater tots, nachos, pizza and sandwiches and more! Never had shepards pie but that the menu has it is oh so fabulous.

Now I just need to find the all night diner and I'm set.

The library is not too far away, and I have seen several mail boxes, but no post office, yet. I live a mere BLOCK away from a bowling alley. One block! Now if I could only find some bowling partners. There is a movie theater close too. Woot.

I am looking around now. The families are not very inclined to stick around. They get their coffee and leave pretty quickly, eager to keep the rambunctious children on the move, changing scenery=distracted and quieter children. That is a guess. There were two three year old twin girls in here earlier. Matching pink wind breakers. Side pony tails. One holding a pastry the size of her head and frosting stuck on her cheeks. Father turns around from the counter where he gets his coffee, spys the girls several feet away and says "You girls sharing?"
Girl with pastry takes one small hand off her pastry and points to her sister "She doesn't have one." then puts her hand back on the pastry and brings it to her mouth for another large bite. Father looks on and says "hence, the SHARING!"

Twin sister, meanwhile, is oblivious. Clearly not interested in the pastry. More interested in the velvet chair. The floor, the other patrons, me. I smile at her, she smiles at me--father notices and smiles at me and they go away. His smile was not so much wry as, thanks for noticing, aren't they precious, I love them and you will too! and I do-- I love children. Can't help it. That was when I ordered my 'vanilla creme'.

Now it is more than an hour and half since our date and while Skype says you are there, you are not, if you were I would ask you if you could believe it has been more than a month since I have had a cigarette? You would tell me something then, what, I can guess but I will never know because instead of actually having this conversation, I am simply imagining it. I have made this trip to Starbucks worthwhile, even though I don't drink coffee and missed our date, I have begun research for my next article. The magazine is out now. It looks fabulous. Last night was the premiere party and I went with Kari, Misha, Tiffany, and Iris. And we looked fabulous. We saw a fashion show and I met the Editor in Chief face-to face. She is awesome. The magazine is officially a non-profit, from now on donating it's overhead to organizations whose goals and purposes align with the magazines'. Abi, if we were talking now I would tell you to go check out the website, www.pistilmag.com where you will not be able to read my article, but you could see some cool graphics and pictures and order a copy if you wanted.

The strollers are still streaming in, one family has settled in at the table in front of me and they have a three year old girl and a newborn. Newborns are sure funny looking. Anyhow, I think, it is time to trek it back to the apartment that I love so much. And maybe take a nap. Goodbye Abi. Goodnight. Until next time!

chaotic

this is the state of my new home

i have no time no time.
but i'm still doing fine.
i love my new place
but i don't like being there right now because there is too much to do
-------
4 weeks no smoking-this is a milestone
-------
do you know what i do not like?
when you are trying to converse with somebody and they emphatically agree with what you are saying but by agreeing they inadvertantly insult you. someone called me ugly in this fashion the other day.

and they don't realize it is insulting.
they just think they are conversing all normal like.
whatever.

also, i do not like when people of the richer family backgrounds insist that illiteracy is the fault of the illiterate. they believe they know the world so well and that it is impossible for anyone in the United States to NOT learn how to read, so it must have been a conscious choice. ok. so i want to change their minds. i want to SHOW them the world is not easy and not fair for some. but how can i? i cannot, most likely.....but i feel like this closed-mindedness and ignorance is a big reason such disparity still exists. erg.

is it 5 o'clock yet? must clean old apartment. must unpack new place. lincoln square is DA BOMB.

5 yr college reunion

i was out with....smokers smokers smokers last night and i did not, repeat, did not even want one! they say the urge will come back and HIT me every once in a while so i gotta watch out.
i came home very stinky. my roommate is leaving today. i will have an echo-y two bedroom to myself for 7 days before i move into my glorious one-bedroom next week! busy busy tonight is the official gathering and i am curious if talking about "what i've been up to for the past few years" will get annoying in the first hour or the 5th....we'll see how many people have become lawyers and doctors. How many have babies!

BTW, I was on Mteam in highschool. Seems as though I have always been a school spirit type. And you know what? I am not one bit ashamed. I still know the school fight song.

Go U Northwestern break right through that line
with your colors flying we will cheer you all the time
U ra ra
GO U Northwestern fight for victory!

Spread far the fame of our fair name
Go Northwestern win that game!

da da da da da da
Go Northwestern go
dadadadadadadadad
Go Northwestern go
hit em hard, hit em low
Go Northwestern go.....

ok

I spent the entire day yesterday with a friend in need. She wears her sadness like an evening gown, elegant and graceful- men were drawn to her like a moth to a flame. We were all over the city of Chicago, running from her misery. When night settled in she lit up with a fury, smoking cigarette after cigarette. And I didn't want one! I was actually kind of grossed out by it.
Now it is morning and my laundry remains unclean, my hair disheveled and I am at work. Tonight I sign the lease to my new apartment! In Lincoln Square! Half off first months' rent. Yay! Also I have a new assignment for the magazine, also I am cocktailing at this fancy roof top designer party in a week, professional make-up artists will be doing me up all 40's style, for a 150$ and that will help me in my brokeness......good things. But my cat cried when I left the house at 9am in the morning yesterday, and hopped into bed with me at 1am when I returned. She very much misses me. Life is feeling very busy right now....

stubborn

Hey stupid man,
Why do you stand?
There’s some seats back here open,
Back here by the fan

Why must you stay
Up there blocking the way
Of other commuters
So it takes all day

For people to get on
Swipe their Plus card and move on
To the back of the bus,
So we can all just get gone

Because of you they think
That we’re full to the brink
The front is all crowded
And probably stinks

Hey Macho man,
I don’t understand
Your aversion to sitting
Next to a strange woman or man

Don’t you know, by the way,
Every second counts in a day
That every red light
is another delay?

You’re making them wait, honey
And making me late
I don’t wanna work,
But I gotta make money

So please come back here now,
And sit your ass down,
And then maybe then,
You won’t see me frown

bare naked

The thing about smoking is that it's oddly comforting. Nonsmokers have no idea. Think teddy bear or security blanket. It's something we smokers have in times of sadness or frustration or awkwardness, an object on which to focus when all else seems awry. The physical effect is deceivingly calming, but more than that, the act of smoking, of clutching the long thin strip of paper and tobacco in hand, putting it to your lips and inhaling, is a consuming act of doing that almost feels meditative. And when you've had this 'comfort' in your life for years, being without is...unsettling.

I became aware of this once unsuspected aspect of dependency the first time I tried to quit smoking. I would be walking to the bus stop and some guy would be leering at me and as I got closer to him, dreading the moment he might attempt to 'holla' at me, I would reach into my bag for a cigarette, only to remember I was quitting. I would panic and try to take a deep breath. He would 'holla' and I would chew my nic gum faster, as though this would make me feel less objectified. Then I would spend way too long dwelling on what an asshole he was all the while trying to ignore my craving.

Other times I noticed this strange dependency were during those uncomfortable lulls in conversation with people I was not quite good enough friends with yet for lulls to be comfortable--or with people I just knew I wasn't gonna like or be friends with anyway but I still had to try and be amicable for some reason or another. I would be sitting at a table, we would have exhausted the whole, "So, what do you do for a living?" thing, maybe even talked about the weather, and then we would be just sitting. Before, I would pretend my silence was about the cigarette. Now I have to bravely face these situations alone.

Before, if I was walking down a street and some man would get all leery, I could 'fumble' in my bag, pull out a cigarette and take my time lighting it. By the time this was finished, I would have walked past him, and sure, he might be checking out my backside, but of this I was at least, gloriously ignorant. I could somehow pretend that I was invisible to him, because he was invisible to me. The only thing in the world, in fact, was me and my cigarette. (I do have an iPod, now, so at least when some guy says 'Damn girl, (fill in the blank), damn!' now I can pretend I didn't hear him.)

And when the lulls in conversation came, I could be all like "Yo, it's not like you bore me, or I'm all uninteresting and have nothing funny or witty to say to you, it's just, I got this habit, and, well, it's calling my name right now, so if you will excuse me while I light up..." Without a cigarette in moments like these I feel bare naked.

Today I got to deal with another one of those moments--I suck at shit-talking. I don't like to lose, who does? But when I am playing a game and losing, I try to make the best of it. But I will never ever be that stereotypical black woman who can tell a person off. I just can't do it. Likewise, I can't spit game. Or whatever the term is. So when the other 'team' is shit-talking up a storm, AND my team is losing, I just feel kind of, well, shitty. But more because I know my silence (i.e. lack of ability to shit-talk back) will be taken for some sort of poor sportmanship. They start to think I am upset if I say nothing, but I'm not going to laugh it off because being teased and then laughing at my teasers seems sort of, masochistic, so I stare at them dumbly, and make feeble attempts to 'talk shit' back, but it feels pretty false to me and the whole thing puts me out, and then there you have it, I truly am being a poor sport man. This happened today and made me want to SMOKE.

I didn't, by the way, but I am not sure right now about this whole quitting thing. After I sat out a game or two a friend came over and was like, 'Man, I need a cigarette.' He was upset about something as well, and there was nothing I wanted more than to light up with him, our mutual lung poisoning an unequivocal vein of support between us. Which brings me to another thing, the fact that the tendrils of smoke that waft between smokers, is in fact, a bond of sorts, between humans who have become outcasts in society. We love our cigarette. And we understand each other better because of it. That is a grand feeling of camaraderie that I will also miss. I tell myself I will form new bonds, but out of solidarity, I will not form those bonds with people who are nonsmokers. Not like that, anyway, maybe other quitters, I don't know.

What I do know is it is bearing down on 3am and I have to get up at 6am for work. I have spent entirely too much time not sleeping. Tomorrow is day 7. We shall see where the day takes me!

beating the subject to death here

I feel like between me and Kari that the topic of age has been definitely killed, but let me kill it some more..... This weekend, one of my best best best friends was in town. She is a soul mate, for sure. We met junior year of college. She was a philosophy major and I was a journalism major. I can't tell you how many nights we spent smoking and philosophizing, how many hours we devoted to figuring out ourselves in the world we lived in and the world we thought we wanted to live in.

We went to the campus this Sunday and walked around at night. We saw a fox. An actual fox. Just chilling in front of a bush by Kresge. We visited our old haunts and felt................a weird sense of longing combined with utter relief-that it was not our life anymore. I have fond memories of the horror and joy college was. I have been thinking a lot about that time in relation to how satisfied I am with where I am in life now. I am not pleased with my career. I certainly thought I would be further along there. But admittedly I have made great soul headway, but when people ask you what you have been up to lately, you can't usually say, " Well, I spent the last five years dealing with myself. We-myself and I, that is- have come along way in terms of spiritual and emotional health.." My friend is a lawyer now. Making 6 figures. I am so not jealous. Another is in China, another three bestest of best friends are getting their doctorates, and my last best friend owns a marketing research company and is editor in chief of this great nationwide Latino publication. Like I said, so not jealous.

But what I want to get to, is that now, not at 23, not at 25, but now, am I aware of some actual change and growth in me. Significant. A certain part of life is over now. I take note because I don't want to HAVE a mid-life crisis. I want to acknowledge, love and appreciate life at every stage. I don't want to look back and realize I didn't notice! Or look back and regret. Just know where I am and figure out what I need to do to get to the kind of tomorrow that works for me.

I am noticing. I like to be alone now, I used to hate that. I am not afraid to go to a movie alone, stay in on Friday, or go out to eat with a good book. I am, for the first time, friends with people both older AND younger. And it's beautiful. Once, I could not have done it--My mother instilled me with the iron belief that adults and children are not friends, she was not my friend, and would never be. She sings a different tune now, but all through school I remember having a certain amount of awe for people more than 2 years older than me, and slight contempt for people more than 3 years younger than me. Don't ask me why those particular boundaries. I don't know. Not everybody feels or felt this way, but that too, was something I had to come to realize. I don't want to keep saying, "I am going to go do things." Because rather than say that, I am just gonna do. There are other things of course, more personal realizations. It's all good.

I am contemplative.


That is all.

(no more about the age thing. until my birthday when I fully expect lots of parties and love)

in my life

There are places I’ll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I’ve loved them all
-The Beatles

confession

i like the song man in the mirror. i also grieve for the MJ that was.

i ordered knives today so when it comes time to get my own apartment oct 1, i can cut things.
food things....just so we're clear.

???

Apparently I have been a Baha'i for many many years. In fact, I am currently pioneering in Colombia. Yessiree. Lately I been feeling a little tired, but now I know why! It's all the traveling I have been doing. I knew I was a little too dark for the Chicago sun! Anyway, that is the call I received today concerning my card, and why it is taking so long to get to me!

It's funny cuz I ain't never been to no new country, not even Canada or Mexico. Excuse me folks, I got some calls to make......

things here and there

I just had a moment. Staring off into the distance. Thinking about my cat. She gives me great comfort and lots of love. I fondly think of her while I am at work. This attachment I have is a new thing to me!

Speaking of attachment, I surely need to work on Detachment. My Tuesday Epiphany is this: when things happen to make me feel insecure, sad, hurt, angry or frustrated, I often turn to the nearest human being for affirmation and comfort, regardless of whether they are equipped spiritually or intellectually to calm my fears, make sense of my confusion, or offer genuine understanding and condolence. This habit of mine can inadvertantly lead to backbiting or misunderstanding and severe judgement from the person with which I was trying to bond. If I can successfully learn to look inside and above for support in these instances, I believe I will gain the strength I need to let harmful words roll off my back instead of sinking into my soul and festering, and this skill I hope to attain will also help clarify my purpose and fortify my resolve to pursue the things that will get me to my goals in life happily....but for now, let me just say...arrrrgh! From now on, I shall confide more regularly to my cat instead of random humans. At least I know she will say one thing and one thing only, mraowww....

Duck Duck.....

I had a great time @ Greenlake. Lots of stimulation. Lots of people. Excitement. Learning, empowering and inspiring speeches and what not. I also learned that I am still clumsy as heck even without the aide of chemicals and toxins. Right now I have my phone sealed in a bag with silica packets taken from sample vinyl padfolios we got laying around the office-rumor has it that silica will suck all the moisture out the phone thereby restoring it to its former working order. It (my phone) decided to go for a swim in Greenlake without me. Now I have to deal with the consequences. I also lost my glasses, but a kind man/saviour returned them unharmed to Lost and Found.

But as I sit here I realize I missed out on a great opportunity. I was surrounded by Minnesotans. And I have been doing this survey with Minnesotans and non-Minnesotans for many many years:

In college a friend and I discovered that only us Minnesotans have played the game Duck Duck Gray Duck. Non-Minnesotans, or crazy people, as I like to call them, play this strange copy-cat game called Duck Duck Goose. "Gray duck, what's a gray duck?" they ask with exasperation. If you don't know, I'm not gonna tell you, crazy person.

Anyway, since then, I have never met a born and raised Minnesotan who says Duck Duck Goose, nor have I met a non-Minnesotan who knows about the illustrious Gray Duck. I so could have explored that this weekend! I could have had flyers made, something. I surely missed out. Anyway, if you read this, and you are from Minnesota, holla. Crazy people can holla, too. Are you a goose person or a gray duck person? I must must must must must know........

endless summer nights coming to an end.....

(Do I write too much about nothing?)

My arms are wide open trying to grasp at what I cannot hope to hold on to-- summer, in all it’s gloriousness is fading away. The leaves are already beginning to turn brown as the breeze blows across the sand rearranging the stamps of human existence. The children who played here earlier, running to and fro, throwing balls; and the men and women laying out, moving here and there to catch the best ray or to grab the bottle of water at their side; the volleyball players and dog walkers, all have left their own unique sand prints. All evidence of daytime lives blow away as the sun sinks slowly behind the skyscrapers and deep blue night settles resolutely over the world.

The lights in the buildings along the lakeshore cast another kind of warm glow over the beach, trying to reach the water but…….not…….quite…..getting……there, and the waves that caress the sand seem careless and clueless about the attempted merger. The water remains black at the shore and dusted with starlight further out. The moon has risen orange in the sky, large and luminous, creeping out above the water and shining in a fierce and hollow imitation of the sun it said goodbye to on the way up.

The air is cooler here than it was last week. The sidewalk adjacent to the sand is still full of people trying to make it home before night takes full hold--bikers, runners and bladers all sweating away their worries, and strollers like me hoping to crystallize the moment in eternity. Cars are whizzing by on LSD, their speed implying a deliberation and purpose I cannot mimic. And though the world around me hustles and bustles I am at one with the calm of the water. I am living now. I am living and breathing here and now. This moment, taken with surety, is mine to keep, forever in a corner in my mind. This is my life. These are my memories, my impressions. And now I share them with you.

Could it be more perfect?

I am going on a boat cruise tonight, 3 hours, out on Lake Michigan. I have been sailing already, to the beach once or twice a week this whole summer, gone to several summer festivals, summer danced my arse off twice, rediscovered beautiful life-long friendships, made some new friends, been to a swimming pool, this weekend I am going to Wisconsin to get some of the nature that I miss and love, I have been clubbing like a rock star with actual stars, read a TON of really good books, spent amazing time with awesome brothers and a sister, learned I was going to be an Auntie, walked the Brooklyn Bridge, traversed Coney Island and met Ayveq the Walrus, and discovered how much I love Baha'u'llah. All in all it's been a great summer.

I have been keeping my eyes wide open so as not to miss it. Every winter, I sigh and lament and wonder where my summer went and why it ended so soon. This time, I have actually consciously been pausing a bit every few days to drink in the sounds, the smells, the feelings. I am hoping to store a bit of the good stuff in my soul to take out and use when the days are dark and dreary. I also had a revelation the other day, I don't hate winter. I thought I did. But if I didn't have it, I would miss it. How's that for weird? I still wouldn't mind moving somewhere without a winter for awhile, but I will take that as, and if, it comes, naturally. I prefer the tranquility of Minnesota winters to the sludge and wind of Chicago winters, but what are you gonna do?

Back to summer days, though, few things could make this more perfect. My student loans miraculously being paid off would probably do it. As it is, I won't have them paid off until I am like 59 years old. On the other hand, I can actually say with all honesty, I put myself through school. All by myself. But at quite the cost, because my school was so dang expensive, but now I am just rambling. stop leslie stop. stop. ok. Summer rocks! I can't wait to get out on the open water and feel the breeze in my eyeballs! er, hair, breeze in my hair....

Musings from near 30-somethings while waiting in line to ride the roller coaster or Bon Jovi Rules

Me: Shot through the heart....
Me and Kiyo: And you're to blame! You give luuuuuu-0-uve a bad name, I play my part and you play your game, you give luuuuu-o-uve a bad name.
Gavin: Like Francis or Ethel....
Me: Huh?
Gavin: You know, a bad name! You give love a bad name!

Oh the laughter.

Are we getting old or what? Not only were we singing Bon Jovi (knew all the words) in public surrounded by hundreds of people, but we didn't even care! I remember when parks were all about checking out the cute boys and giggling. And NOT singing in public. Also, the fear/fun ratio has changed dramatically. I am going back, because I believe in conquering all fears. But I believe the raspy raw throat I have today is a tribute to the fact that things change and things that used to be a blast sometimes turn into things that make you want to pee your pants.

Linktastic

Once upon a time I had a boyfriend who knew Linux better than he knew English. He could speak the language of computers oh so well. It was.....sexy???? Mmm, maybe not so much. But he definitely opened my eyes to the world of websites, or rather, the possibility of having my own. He started this bloggy thing for me, anyway. Then, I dumped him (it's fun to say that, dumped), and I no longer have a computer whiz brain to pick when it so moves me to do things all technical-like on the computer.

But I enjoy the fact that at least I know how to go into my template and cut and paste, thereby adding linky links to my site. I just added some. You should check it out. I realize I am all woman-power right now with them, but I do not think this is a bad thing. It just so happens that I do not currently know of any men's magazines I want to link to and I do not have any male friends who have said, Please, please link me to your blog! Technically, Abi and Kari didn't ask either, I asked them, and let's pretend Margaret Cho did because I'm cooler if you think she talks to me. (hehe) Oh, and I would like to claim friendship with Ms. Waxman because she is awesome and I support everything she does, from sex education to her presidency at Feminists for Free Expression ( http://www.ffeusa.org/). But I will honestly just tell you that I met her once and spent some time with her and if I lived in New York, I would probably ask her out to coffee to chat some more....

But what I want to do, not right away, but eventually, is figure out how to put pictures on here. I know some of y'all must know how to do that, so one day, one of you must tell me. But not today, because my camera is broken.

kicking and screaming

much as i am loathe to admit it, when i make awesome sales, i feel giddy and excited. I have already sold more than $7000 worth of products today and it's not even noon.......go me.

Invasion of the Colored People!!!!!

I know I already posted today. I know I should be working. I know a lot of things. Like how not happy I am with the Chicago Tribune today.

"Although booming immigrant populations increase the need for schools and social services, Sylvia Puente, director of the University of Notre Dame's Institute for Latino Studies in Chicago, said their value to the economy is often overlooked."We are increasingly dependent on low-wage labor," she said. "Installing drywall and your restaurant tab would cost much more without them."

ARE YOU FRICKING KIDDING ME??????? This in an article about the growing population of Latinos in Chicago. I mean, fine, it's a newsworthy story. But now really, who in their right mind...oh wait. I live in CHICAGO, I forgot. That's how it is.

"We have a lot more coming," said Juany Garza, who this year was elected Aurora's first Mexican alderman. "People who are here are bringing more people, their close families."Demographers say the rapid growth of Hispanics, combined with lower birth and higher death rates among an aging white populace, is propelling the metropolitan area toward becoming a region where minorities are the majority.

"I don't see anything that will stop it," said Kenneth Johnson, a demographer at Loyola University Chicago.

Stop the presses, folks, and grab your guns. We took this land from dem dere Injuns and we shore as hell ain't gonna let no one else take it from us!

Grrrr. I say. Arggh. Anyway, I am not sure if this link will work, but if you care, you can cut and paste and read for yourself. How do I fight this type of battle? So subtle, yet blaring. But I bet a great number of folks who read this article today didn't see anything wrong with those quotes. It just sounds soooo bad to me. Who wrote this crap? Who edited it? Who was copy-edited it?

http://www.chicagotribune.com/business/chi-0508110205aug11,1,67511.story

Heads High

I forgot how much I love dancehall! Reggae makes a morning commute not only tolerable, but enjoyable. My foot tapped all the way to Evanston. I was sad to have to take out the earphones when I reached my cubicle, but I had a BIG smile for the nasty bossman and while I am not sure if I am interested in scoring brownie points, the pearlies couldn't have hurt. Ipods are awesome, I also added Les Mis and Christina Aguilera--I am such a girl.

It's raining, so SummerDance may not take place/be all that fun tonight. But I am looking forward to seeing Funkadesi, as I have heard so much about them. Last night we won our volleyball game, so we made it through the first round of playoffs. The other team was really snarky, too. They yelled at each other a lot and were really anal about the points. I look forward to playing even more competitively in the fall, since I have decided, officially, to stay in Chi-town for another year. What better way to excercise? Also, I am pondering quitting smoking next week or so, except it makes me REALLY crabby so I will have to assess the feasibility of quitting when I am already annoyed at certain other things on a daily basis....like maybe I should wait to quit when I have my own apartment/sanctuary? New job? Am I making excuses? The point is I am thinking about it....

Nonsense

This is me talking nonsense. Nonsensenonsensenonsensenonsensenonsensenonsense....the word has no meaning for me now.

My roommate and I had THE TALK. Or rather, I finally caved in and told her what I thought about the way she treated me. She was receptive and I was relieved. Then yesterday she told me she decided to turn down the job offer (more than 30 thou she would have made) because she had a gut feeling. She has been unemployed for three months. She is there all the time. When I get home from my nine hour day at work, she is there on the couch, or in the kitchen, or baby-talking my cat. I just want some alone time, or better, time with a person I can tell my day to, unwind to, confide to--but when I do this with her she usually gets angry. And I have been supporting her ass in more ways than one for longer than that. I can't afford financially to take care of her and mentally I am just done. I knew when I asked her to move in that there would be problems, I never imagined it would come to this. Ok, I didn't really want to talk about this when I started typing. My home is NOT my sanctuary. That is all, I look forward to when it is. GRIPEgripegripegripegripegripe.

I guess the reason I even started to talk about this is because I realized it has been entirely too long since my last impromptu dance party at home. I didn't realize it was such a needed release until it stopped happening. I don't mind dancing in public (I think I am doing that tomorrow) but I really let go and get down at home sometimes with certain good friends, sometimes alone (but let's face it, I'm self-conscious in public) But ever since the roomie has been stuck at home broke and depressed it hasn't happened. Sometimes she won't even leave the house for like, 4 days.....

It just feels wierd to let go and get all jubilee when there is a doom and gloom person in the next room who could walk out at any time and so pointedly not look at you that her "lack of gaze" is like a big huge spotlight of reproach. She seems so uncomfortable at my carefreeness and then I feel like I shouldn't be all displaying it...I desperately need a release. And it's a strange concept to me that someone could exist in this world and in my space and that I would not be friends with, enjoying their company and what not, because I am pretty good at finding common ground if I need to, and bonding for the moment. And here I am in my own home, in all it's intimacy, and I feel so alienated and uncomfortable. That's all I'm saying.

I'm just saying, that's all, just saying!

Also, I want to talk about some issues I been discussing with me and mine, that to come soon.....or never, we'll see.

CAEEERS AND FEARS

I’ve reached an age in my life where reflection has taken on a multiplicitous ( I think I made this word up, better for meaning than duplicitous) nature. I remember my past self, and I remember remembering my past self, and so on back to the age of 4 or so, (each day a new me emerges, you see) and the reflections and projections I made at each of those times. I have had a good life. A beautiful life and at times a terrible life and I am hyper-aware how each moment has shaped today’s me. Changes are usually subtle and unnoticed except when they are not, like my decision to declare and my college choice, and, thus far, my career choices.

Something I have been increasingly aware of is how the past five years of waiting tables and being in sales has changed how I relate to people and how I think the thoughts in my head. My spiritual self is rearing and snorting in protest at some of those changes, my intellectual self is FASCINATED to see how easily what I thought was ‘core me’ could so easily be changed, so malleable what I thought was stone. It is hard to explain, and certainly I am grateful to the experiences which have nevertheless pushed me well along my way to independent adult-hood and provided much fodder for those best-selling novels I will someday write, but there is in me a way of thinking now, an automaton smile and a knowledge of how to manipulate, ever so subtly, PEOPLE, to get what I want. (Except it is not what I want, but what my bosses all want, more money, more business, more renown, but I need to eat so I do it.)

Here is the conflict, or the irony, though, I have also learned to be more sensitive to other’s feelings and address them “accordingly,” even when I didn’t understand remotely why they might feel that way, only to have these same people shower me with gratitude and unexpected kindness and/or respect. I have learned to remove myself emotionally from situations that may have hurt me in the past in order to ‘get the job done’ effectively. Example: Mr. Man needs 200 t-shirts for a company picnic in 4 days. (standard production is, of course, 7 days) He calls me and from the start begins to verbally abuse me and threaten me with taking his business elsewhere if I don’t give him what he wants yesterday. I used to get scared about that, thinking “what will my boss think if I ‘lose’ this order? And I got flustered and frustrated that the client is putting such a rude pressure on me. NOW I empathize. I think about how his ass is probably grass if he doesn’t get this order completed and he is thinking about his boss as I am thinking about mine. In the past, if someone spoke to me like that I would walk away or give them a piece of my mind.

Now I take a deep breath and smile and tell them I understand how frustrated they must be. I then tell them I will do everything within my power to help them. And you know, sometimes, it works out and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes my company (or, before, the restaurant) would pull some miraculous feat outside of the norm and actually print 200 shirts and have them delivered yesterday, and sometimes my company would not. But even when it did not, my reassurances to the man, or woman, in distress, would calm them down. Afterwards they would thank me profusely and be kind to me ever after. Lots of times they even came back to give my company more business.

Strange how that works, huh? So I am thankful for the lesson. Shower them with kindness….serve with humility….

I decided against being a daily news reporter years ago because of the amount of anger the readers would direct our way when I was a reporter (intern) at the St. Paul Pioneer Press for a few months. But I loved the fast-paced environment, and I loved the challenge of taking an actual event and turning it into a story on paper. I still love that, getting the front page story, coming up with things I thought people should know about and then getting to write about them. But (this is the ultimate motivation behind what I am writing about) I was paralyzed with fear to take on people’s anger. My self-esteem was fragile and it was difficult not to internalize it all. So I quit. And I had a brief stint in the magazine world as well, but when things didn’t work out, I didn’t fight for it. I wasn’t ready. And ironically, these last five years have made me ready! I can face you, anger and hate, I can, and I can be resilient and strong in the face of adversity, and this is exciting news. I mean the world IS an angry place and people I think can place entirely too much importance on trivialities, but I/we still have to live in it and live our lives living in it. No excuse to hide away, you know?

So with all that said, I am not going after the newspaper job. Not yet, maybe not ever. But I am writing (for magazines) and I am no longer afraid to believe I deserve a chance at the career of my choice. Run-on sentences aside, wish me luck in the search!

it's august

and I fear the summer is coming to a close all too quickly. my boss boss is out of town and his brother boss has taken over leadership for a few days and I am reminded again why I don't like being here. He is a micro-managing king and he thinks I am an incompetent louse and treats me as such. He gives my clients away and then claims ignorance that they were mine to begin with and when that doesn't fly (I called him out on that one!), recants and says he 'did it because he knows I have a lot on my plate' and just thought he was helping me out. Mind you, this is the man who was clamouring to have me fired a few short months ago, he condescends and demeans me subtly in his conversation at my cubicle when the debacle was at it's height but when they saw my sales equal and exceeding others in my position, he shut up....now he is back at it again and I feel weary. I think I have to come in to work this weekend but I do not mind because no one will be here and I can work in peace....gotta love the office politics....

analogy

My family and yours
Rougher edges, sharpened image
Smooth and slow into the building
Serenity
You come over my vision
Raucous sound and beat fill my ears
Joyous laughter and
joyous laughter
Subtle recognition
Blinded by the love within
Shall our differences emerge and
Converge
On the spot
Or shall we be like oil and water
At the base of a tree
We are walking down opposite sides of the street
Welcome us into your arms and I will fall with grace
And humility into your arms
And my family will follow into your arms
And we shall all be as onetogether

yikes

I am very nervous about tonight. Excited about the decision, but I have never shared this thing within me with so many people. It has always been a very private experience. Scary! Plus I have stage fright. Hopefully I won't have to give a speech or anything. No idea what to expect.....

OUCH!

So I have now officially joined the club of idiocy dubbed by me, but in existence long before I was born, for people with stupid injuries. I dislocated my thumb last night. I was getting ready to leave the house and my friend was outside watching me as I went to shut the window and in an attempt to look smooth I shut it with one hand instead of my usual grunting two, with the force of my weight on it. It's a tough window and my bravado went off seemingly without a hitch. The window was shut. Then I looked down to see my thumb sticking out at a tres tres tres bizarre angle.

Stupified and unable to articulate a thought in my head I reached over with my other hand and SNAPPED it back into place. Then the pain set in. Fuck me. I can't lift a thing and I seriously doubt I will be able to play volleyball tomorrow. I was supposed to play today but that ain't happening. Good thing my Netflix movies came today.

All I can say is ouch ouch ouch ouch fuck.

Cheers!

Hiding your soul in your solitude

Zap Mama is my favorite group. No one I know knows who they are. Everyone I know should know who they are. My favorite song is all of them. But the most beautiful and haunting meoldy is Nostalgie Amoureuse. Sometimes I hide my soul in my solitude. I walk the streets of Chicago in my own special universe, where I am alone and I want to be there. I try to go unnoticed but still people speak to me and my skin crawls when they are words of disrespect, which they most often are, men who are "hitting" on me. Someone smart told me once that maybe these men just want to be acknowledged in the world. I asked her why it was my job to be the one to acknowledge them. Then I listened more deeply to the words of the song that gives me shivers and I remembered lonliness. I try to acknowledge them now and hope they will read my non-verbal uninvite. So far it has worked. Strange.

YOU HAVE GOT TO HEAR THIS SONG!

That night I was walking and walking
I found myself in an open square at dawn
The square was dirty, full of garbage paper, plastic, tin cans
There were people sleeping on the benches with blankets made of cardboard
I wasn’t comfortable and I judged in instantly what I saw: stinking filth condemned
One of them smiles at me and says Hey! Don’t go losing your today
Hiding your soul in your solitude
I’ve skipped from society, a talking heart keeps us true
Your face is my light, he says, The day shines better for the view
The birds talk among themselves Their words tell tales of you.
We are the winners If we unclothe our eyes
The scene is not what it seems The healing waits in our sky.
Hey there! Before you walk away Show me the smile that says I’m not alone
You see what you want in me This crazy life is my home.

Nickle bag of funk....

I saw Digable Planets last night at Grant Park. Bad ass. I got free tickets, too, life is good.

I finished Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince about ten minutes ago. I am.......at a loss for words. Can you be worried and scared for a book character? Am I a dork? Yes and yes, prolly.

Goodnite!

the clouds were pregnant with water...

and then it rained. and then it stopped. houston, we have a drought on our hands. i want to skip my game tonight so please, please keep raining!

I should be on tv.....

because then I could get a job. Let me explain. I have been "job-searching" and by that I mean, when the mood strikes me I visit one of three or four websites and see if there is anything available for which I am qualified and that would make me feel good about when the alarm goes off in the morning. So far the only journalism jobs posted are tv positions that, had that been my concentration in college, I would probably send my resume to them today with the full confidence it would not be received in laughter. It looks like either way my hopes of moving to MN are not to be realized. I will not move without a job and I can't find one....today I will make a pact to send off two resumes into the abyss. Time to step it up a bit.

I got my hair did today. I also now have contacts. It's very very very strange.

my home is a battle ground

my roommate is an absolute nightmare of anger and bitterness. i am going to have to take drastic measures and move out i think, before the lease is up. i can't take one more slammed door or rolled eyes, or snide, self-disparaging comment. i told my mom about the latest blow-out and she said "that pain is a normal and natural way that our bodies tell us we are putting something in that doesn't belong there. Whether emotional or physical, pain is our cue that something must change, something needs adjustment. So, we must pay attention to the pain. It's our ally, our cue to something important." I agree. Someone needs to tell her that. My roommate is in an unbelievable amount of emotional pain and instead of seeking help she takes ALL OF IT out on me. I'm so worn down. It's been one year of this. She will apologize tonight, she usually does, for her behavior. But what is going to stop it from happening again? She blew up at me and then wondered aloud why no one ever wants to hang out with her.........

random ramblings

i am free, therapist free, that is. big step because big changes commenced and are commencing. i am at the brink of a precipice, there is a sign to my right that says "The Rest of Your Life" with an arrow, and can you guess where it is pointing? what will i do with an extra $60 a month, i can think of a lotta things, lotta lottery tickets.......

we (abi and i) were on the phone for more than 2 hours last night, a record for me, and up well past my bedtime. we talked about many things, many things, boys, faith, future and probably food. i like talking about food. and then today i decided my $60 was better spent elsewhere so i walked into the room that has been a haven for tears and honesty for more than a year and said, no more! no longer....i am ready to move on and up and out.

wrote a poem yesterday. normally i share those things but this one's private. sealed stamp of approval from abi. but it got me remembering the days i used to perform spoken word and a thing abi said about blogging last night. my psychoanalysis of blogging (why do we do it? how honest are we? how honest are you?) is soon to come. i no longer perform my poetry for the same reason abi lately no longer blogs (i urged her to re-consider, but if i don't stand up, can i ask her to type out?)

i am going to get a couple anime flicks to watch. Princess M and Perfect Blue, they were good when i watched them years ago....will they resonate the same today?

i think only one person reads this. i don't hardly tell anyone about it and when i do, they usually forget in a week or two after i don't blog for awhile. i am comforted by that and yet am slowly considering getting the "word" out and trying to keep it out. i just like to write.
speaking of which, i will be freelancing for yet another couple of magazines this fall. soon i will be certifiably 'published' enough, and PAID. that will be fun. so bill, i am, in fact, writing these days. how about you?

(horoscope)

I get my horoscope emailed to me everyday and the horoscope of two old friends....been getting it since junior year of college (which is like 7 years ago, which sounds, well, makes me sound "old" right? but in truth, I kind of like the sound of it).

I know who the Cancer is, she left my life in a sudden storm and has since returned after two years of silence. The Virgo is gone, I don't even remember for sure which person that was, but it's become fitting again as I have a new Virgo friend whom I think will fit quite nicely in my life....

Uncannily accurate 50% of the time....(if I were speaking, would you hear irony in my voice?) I am a Sagitarius. (I like parentheses, they allow my weird brain tangents to make grammatical sense.) (is it annoying yet?) (are you at least smirking?) (what bothers me is that I can't remember right now if the period goes inside or outside the parentheses...darn journalistic education!).


Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, July 13:Dreams are often the stuff that goals are made of. So if your nightly retreats are starting to repeat themselves, it might be time to take the hint. Formulate a battle plan and just see how much you can accomplish.

For Cancer,Ever hear how oysters make pearls? Well, that loved one who's been anything but cooperative lately is your prospective pearl. Don't give up on them, even if they're going out of their way to make life difficult for you.

For Virgo,You've been asked to keep mum about a certain money matter, but you're really wrestling with your conscience about it. Follow your instincts while you're making your decision, and make it soon.

Oh no he didn't!

Twice in one day, crazy I know. I sell promotional products. While there is a certain level of casual banter that goes on between me and my clients, there is the expectation of professionalsm. I wear jeans to work, and I mostly interact by phone. But that still does not make it ok for good ole Joe to tell me he is getting a colonoscopy because of the blood in his stool and that he went to see the Nutcracker in order to have sex with his girlfriend.....too much is too much Joe. I appreciate the candor and the business, NOT the details. Not the details....

dreaming again

I went out with an old high school acquaintance last night. I think we could have talked all night. I enjoyed the time spent and one of the things we started to talk about floated back into my thoughts this morning as I awoke.

She was talking about recurring dreams about the neighborhood she grew up in. I have recurring dreams about high school and also....duh duh daaaaaahhh.....sharks and large bodies of water. I wish I was a dream analyst. I am certain it all means something. Last night I dreamt I was on a cliff (man-made) and we (???a group of scientists or environmentalists) were conducting an experiment where we tried to lure sharks into our little cove and then kill them by depriving them of water. Mind you, these were dangerous man-eating sharks. I think it worked but one of our sea lions died. Dreams dreams dreams pervade my existence distinctly and the feeling they often leave me with is proof that more of me exists than I know concretely. What is my subconscious saying? Why do I keep going back to high school and Kari keep going back to an old house from childhood? And you should know that the sharks did not have me scared, but that it was extremely important we defeat them...

More often than sharks, I dream about water.

If I stay in Chi-town, it is absolutely essential that I move closer to the lake-I think my sanity is directly relational to the nearness of me to water....also, walruses are my new favorite animals. I like walruses.

Into my life

I got a cat and my brother is pregnant. Well, his fiance is preggers and now there are two new things to love.......very exciting!

I'm just saying, that's all, I'm just saying......

It's ironic that it was the Head Start teacher of my younger foster brother that said something that led to my foster mom not adopting us, considering my twin and I had been in the public school system for much longer and displaying equally disturbing adjustment and behavior problems for twice as long as our blonde little John-John. Could it be......don't wanna be crying wolf you know....that because me and mine were not white no one cared? I'm just saying......just in case you don't know me and haven't inferred...my foster mom was a "bad bad lady who did bad bad things" to us. I could probably make it into a fairy tale, the story of my adoption.....

I'm tired but I gotta do this

Hip hop hooray I got the computer and can now do this from home. But I am tired so I will not write much. I asked my mom for some details about my adoption. I am pondering a story idea about interracial adoption in light of something that was just brought to my attention. Namely, the Oprah episode with Tom Cruise where he pulled that ignorant "there is no such thing as race, Oprah" OHHHHHHHH I can't even get into it now. Too much to say about THAT. But I do want to explore some ideas and so hence the story my mom sent to me. It's special.

"I wanted to get back to you about your questions about our adoption experience. I'll try to answer your questions as best I can. If you need more information, let me know.When Dad and I decided to adopt, it was 1983. We worked through only one agency, Children's Home Society of Minnesota (CHSM). We went through them because they had a very strong reputation and offered comprehensive services both pre and post adoption. The process involved filling out an extensive application and meeting with an adoption social worker several times. The worker came to our home for what was called a home visit. He toured our home, talked with Dad and me and with Gina and Jeffrey. The subsequent sessions with him were considered pre-adoption counseling. Normally, there would have been a pre-adoption counseling group that we would have attended, too, but we were the only ones applying for older kids at that time and they did not want to keep us waiting, so we did the work one-on-one with the social worker. After the sessions were completed, we were in "waiting" mode. We initially had planned to adopt one child who was between the ages of Gina and Jeffrey and then a few years later adopt another who would be the youngest. But as time went on and no child was found, we decided to be open to the possibility of siblings--adopt both kids at the same time.During our "wait", we began attending the monthly support group for parents who had adopted older kids. We listened to their stories and the challenges they were facing. The group was a wonderful source of information and emotional support. Dad and I both attended that group for many months after the adoption. Dad eventually stopped attending, but I continued for about ten years I think. The "wait" was frustrating. We were initially told that things would go fast for us, as we were looking for an African American child. In fact, at the first orientation meeting we attended (it was a general information session for anyone considering adopting--it was a large group of people) we were approached during the break by the director of CHSM who asked us, "What are you looking for?" I think we were the only non-white couple there. He gave us the impression that we were in high demand. From the start, we were wanting older kids, not infants. We were therefore in the Waiting American Child Program (WAC). During our "wait" we were contacted twice about younger bi-racial kids that we turned down. One was a newborn boy. They gave us his picture and it was very difficult to stick to our plan while holding a photo of a baby who could have become ours. It was especially difficult when we knew that, at the time, bi-racial kids were languishing in foster care or being place in white homes because there were no African American families working with the system of adoption (lots on informal adoptions, but not many in the formal system). The second child we turned down was a bi-racial two-year old girl. A black social worker that Dad knew heard we were looking to adopt and he called Dad about this girl. He sent us her photo and information about her. She had been with a white foster family in Bloomington since birth and the social worker was looking for a black or bi-racial home to place her in. The foster family wanted to adopt her. But the social worker felt she should not be adopted by a white couple. That was the only reason he gave for wanting to move her. Both Dad and I did not want any part of such a disruption. While we both felt that it would have been better for her to be placed in a black or bi-racial home, given that she hadn't been and that she was loved and cared for and bonded with the white foster family, we felt it was wrong to disrupt her placement. We couldn't imagine the trauma to that child in having to be moved. So, we said no. I have often wondered what happened to her.After about a year of "waiting", we met with our social worker to ask about siblings. We decided to be open to that possibility, preferring a boy and a girl. One month later, in September 1984, our worker called us and asked if we would be interested in African American twin almost-seven-year-olds who were living in foster care in Ramsey County. We said an enthusiastic, "YES" and went to CHSM to get more information. We were given photos and some written information. And then we worked with the Ramsey County adoption worker to set up a meeting. in the foster home. We were careful to ask the reason that the foster mom was not going to adopt after these kids had been in her home for six years. We didn't want to get involved in another "disrupt the placement because the mom is white" situation. But, we were told that there were parenting issues--the foster mom had had a neglect complaint filed against her by the Head Start teachers of her youngest foster son. That triggered a closer look at the home and it was decided that the adoption of all three kids would be stopped. She had been approved for adoption and was only awaiting subsidy information before finalizing things. The neglect complaint put all that on hold and the decision was made to place all three kids in other adoptive homes. So, we went forward and did home visits and an overnight or two with these two darling children. On November 16, 1984, only two months after first learning about them, you and your brother joined our family forever. And history is still being made..."

and I've had my very own family for more than 20 years. May sound strange to you but it was my first dream come true. Psych! I just got all mushy on you.

look, it's shiny!

I am still computer-less. boo. I think I am unable to work efficiently until I get one. Or maybe it is the sunshine? The world will know when I get a computer and then I become more efficient, or things stay the same. Only time, and my psychic grandma will tell. Actually I do not have a psychic grandma. My grandma is your run of the mill grandma, with great stories and great chocolate chip cookies.

What I really wanted to type about today is my shiny light pen. One of the benefits of working in the promotional product industry is that a horde of useless crap crosses my desk every day, and sometimes the crap is FUN. And then I keep it and order 6 more for myself, oops, my friends--I order 6 more for my friends. I gave Abi a Nalgene, which she broke. I gave the 'rents a booklight and a savvy flashlight/alarm clock combo. I gave Liz a snazzy picnic cooler holder thingy with a place for wine AND a bottle opener, and plates and a cutting board for cheese. My favorite things to keep are the shiny things and the lighty things. I am like a child in that way. I had a magnetic button (think about that one) at my desk in the shape of a star that flashed lots of little lights and felt kind of strobe-y. I was in love with that one. Then the batteries ran out and I had to dispense of it. I have a pen that lights 6 different colors and the end kind of looks like a lava lamp. Call me Simple Shirley, but I can't get enough of it!

That said, can't really say much else about it. Not the most intriguing thought-provoking stuff, I know. If you like shiny things, holla!

Shuddering pangs of envy/the curse of the computer

The main reason why I don't "post" (ooh, look at me, I'm so blog-savvy) that often is because I do not own a computer at home with internet access and have a hard time justifying the time spent with company hours. Or rather, I don't like looking over my shoulder trying to anticipate just when the boss-man, or mens, if you will, are going to sneak up behind me to see what kind of wonderful sales I am making with my company computer.....you know what I mean?

So I decided that there is no debt like credit card debt, when spent on a nifty new Dell, that is. But it broke. I had it for less than 48 hours. Let me take a minute to say, that if blame must be placed let it be placed on my roommate, her cheap-ness and a faulty power surge protector (that was hers) but in reality...it was just plain fricking bad luck.

Come to think of it...I have gone through 3 computers before this one...None of them worked for more than a couple months before getting stolen or breaking. In fairness, the first three were all used. I'm cursed.

In other news, I am experiencing shuddering pangs of envy. They all say, *they* being the illustrious few I call my friends, that if you go around wanting a boyfriend that it will never happen. Noted. Noted, and filed away right next to the belief that seven years bad luck WILL DEFINITELY ensue if I break a mirror. I don't want a boyfriend. Well I do. But only the right one and I haven't met him yet, I don't think. Anyway...the point being the envy and when I am feeling it--Every time one of my peers announces he or she recently became engaged. Not that I want to get married tomorrow. Just some day. And have kids. And I am sick of people making me feel there is something wrong with acknowledging this desire. I try not to think about it except in the aforementioned situation. Or when people I like get girlfriends. It is a reminder that there is still no one out there for me. Wah wah, right? No, shudder, is more like it....ok done. Just had to get that off my chest.

A single friend of mine has determined that not only WILL she stay single for the rest of her life, but that she prefers it. Another non-single friend fights with her man all the time and is always pondering if that is somehow a sign of dysfunction and asking herself and her friends if the relationship can and should last. She loves her man and doesn't know what to do. Relationships can be a headache. But consistent booty with a good friend just can't be beat. I believe in that, and I want it for myself..for many reasons, including the fact that the alternative hiring of handsome male hookers is not a safe, viable option.

Ok now I am done. I swear.

hmm....male hookers.....

the membership

The coveted gym membership, the mark of every aspiring yuppie, eluded this totured soul for much too long when I decided, one year ago this week, to take the plunge.

(Originally this was me attempting to write something only remotely witty about joining the gym. I was in the process of ending one membership and beginning another but then, yoga winked at me and I was gone. Then summer came and volleyball came along and now I am two-timing with the best of them. I am still thinking about the ever-elusive gym membership. Sometimes at night I hear a whisper in my ear and I am tempted to call Bally's and sell them my soul. NOT YET. I am not ready yet. I will succomb soon, though. I feel it in my bones. My last membership was like a bad bad break-up, the kind one is tempted not to recover from, but my BP and body beg to be in shape and I have to listen...who am I to ignore my body, know what I'm saying?) Peace out.