Coffee Table Declarations

2007-09-12T12:04:00.000-04:00

A woman I work with just described love as a psychosis. That seems apt if the definition of psychosis is a break with reality and drawing upon my vast knowledge of psychology I believe that is the gist of psychosis. On the other hand, neurosis is a distortion of reality and that could apply as well.

Love may be more of a distortion of reality than a break with reality, but as with all abnormal psych, it’s a matter of degree rather than falling on one side or the other. When you spend the majority of your time worrying about the future with a person, wondering what they are thinking and feeling, and waiting for them to call or otherwise acknowledge your existence, isn’t that inflating a small thing into a huge obsession? Is that a break with the reality of your life and a preoccupation with things that don’t exist in real time?

And when you are in a constant state of want and need and spend most of the time agonizing over what will happen, yet the brief time you actually spend with the person still weighs more in your mind and makes the suffering all worthwhile, is that a distortion of the reality of happiness and suffering? And if you can pull off the façade that you are happy-go-lucky, yet inside you are in constant turmoil, which is the real you? When I had no one in my life I was convinced that my life was happy and fulfilling and well rounded.

After experiencing so much happiness in the presence of another person I can glimpse what love is actually supposed to feel like and I wonder how I lived my life in a state of blissful ignorance and I’m terrified that I could never go back after knowing. It’s almost like now, with the panic attacks and the ability to cry at the drop of a hat and the wonderful amazing peace that comes on as strong as any other emotion, it’s as if I’m only now really alive and before I was just numb and walking around with no idea it was possible to feel so many things in such a short span of time. My coworker, who I should mention is single, if that makes any difference in evaluating her wisdom on the subject, says she prefers to avoid love because of the delusion it causes. But I’m a romantic at heart. If that makes me also psychotic, well, so be it.

2007-07-20T16:51:00.000-04:00

I am so miserable today. I need to stop drinking heavily and staying out until 2am on work nights. I'm too old for this but it's funny what dating someone will do to you. Suddenly I'm making accomodations in my nice little boring life of being in bed with the remote by 10pm for things like bands at bars and martinis. Funny thing is, I can't believe I was ever o.k. with being single - life is so much better this way. And that terrifies me. I don't know, usually I just go to yoga on Thursday nights.

So after 4 hours of sleep I dragged myself into work and as the morning progressed it became clear that I was not going to be able to make it through the day. I told them I had a bad migraine and felt nauseous, all of which was true. My boss was suspicious though saying it was not like me and what did I think was wrong? Then she said, maybe I need to curtail my weekly activities which made me feel like a total problem employee who comes in massively hungover on a daily basis and is unable to perform on the job. Which is so not true - I haven't called in sick since December of 2003 so you know, should I feel guilty about being too hungover to stay at work? Yes. But do I deserve to actually use a couple of my alotted sick days once in a while? Yes!

Anyway I didn't make it all the way home before having to pull over down a side street, crouch down behind my car and get sick, swearing all the time that I have to stop doing this to myself. Why did I drink so much? Well, it's not that I did, I really only had two drinks. But they were strong, sugary drinks and I was drinking with the wrong attitude to begin with. I was by far drunker than he's ever seen me and though I can't recall anything too awful, I vaguely remember a conversation with a girl my age about how there is pressure on us to start having babies and how I want to wait 5 - 7 years for that at least. Who knows what he thought of all that? At least I didn't say, "I want to snag me a husband and start popping out babies asap!"

So after tossing my breakfast by the side of the road, I got home and proceeded to sleep until, oh, about an hour ago. Which brings me to right now - stomach, not too bad, head, still unpleasant, but I took asprin finally and I need to remain upright so that it doesn't start making me nauseous again, hence writing this post because there's nothing else I feel like doing right now except confessing my sins to the internet. Thanks for listening internet.

2007-07-11T21:29:00.000-04:00

There should be more words for feelings in the English language. What do you call it when you haven't known someone long enough to justifiably love them, but like is simply too inadequate? I've been seeing a new guy and I feel more than like for him, maybe not quite love. Well it couldn't be love, right? So what is it when it feels all crazy and exciting and every time before you go out you feel slightly nauseous because you're so nervous about being perfect all the time or at least perfectly adorable, and when you're with him, just sitting next to him you feel absolutely content and something you vaguely recognize as purely happy although that's a feeling you don't know too well... what is it when you can picture a future with someone but you're afraid to think past the weekend because you have no idea, even though he is sweet and affectionate and nothing if not reliable and drama-free, if he'll ever even call again because you don't know how to trust men and you don't have faith enough in yourself and your ability to inspire the same strange like/love feeling in someone else... what is it when you can't eat and you can't sleep and you feel restless all day because you can't sit still and all you want to do is walk the city streets for hours or just do something to keep moving... what do you call it when you feel so lucky to have finally found something that seems wonderful and you're so terrified of it disappearing and you know that everything is changed and you can't go back to not knowing but you wouldn't anyway... oh yeah and also, though you know it can't logically be true, while you're feeling all of this, you suspect that you are the only person in the history of the world who has ever felt this way before and you could swear that it's certainly different than anything you've ever personally felt before, although you're old enough to know better. Is there a word for the emotion that expresses all of that? There should be.

2007-06-12T12:24:00.000-04:00

Um, so... yeah. What does one say when they have not updated in over a year and would like to start back up again? Does one just jump right back in? Does one give all sorts of crazy excuses? (I've been indisposed, the alarm didn't go off, the dog ate my computer, I swear!) Does one fill in one's reading public (that is, if one still has a reading public, which one severely doubts) on all sorts of details like, "last summer I did this... and in December, this happened...", or do we just say, hey, my life's been happening, you know? Nothing too crazy, nothing too different, there have been stories I haven't told, but it's really all water on the bridge now, so can we start over? Can we? Because I have lots of things to tell you and lots of things to say and I have missed you, really I have. I have missed having a public forum in which to vent my thoughts and feelings for any stranger who happens by on this big wide internet to read and comment on. After all, I didn't take a hiatus for any real reason beyond that I was tired of listening to myself talk about nothing in particular. I didn't like the pressure of having to constantly produce and I think that I sacrificed quality in the name of quantity. So I'd like to start over, begin again, and do this right. What do you say, can we give it a try?

2006-03-12T23:51:00.000-05:00

Once again it's been far too long since I've updated. I would apologize, but I'm sure you're sick of hearing it by now, so instead, I'll just jump right in to the long awaited part two of the ski trip.

So the boy went, although the only time we hung out with him was when we all went to dinner on Saturday night. As usual, it's all mixed messages with him. I was drinking wine because it helps me not be nervous around him but the wine always catches up with me. After he left with his friend (they were headed back that night), I of course started feeling melancholy and started to cry in the bathroom at the bar. I was just so frustrated with all the back and forth, always getting my hopes up, and not knowing how he feels. So there I was in the bathroom with my friend that I'd brought with me - luckily a very good friend, and not a coworker. Nice ladies kept coming in and talking to me. Women are like that - if we see one of our own crying in a bathroom, we usually try to help.

I pulled myself together and my friend and I went back to our hotel so we could continue drinking without having to worry about driving. We were having a great time when we were approached by a couple of guys - in fact, the only guys anywhere near our age, in the bar. They had been playing pool and so we agreed to join them. They told us they were 21 and what school they went to and what they were studying. Then they asked, "what school do you ladies go to?" I'm beginning to see why looking young can be a good thing! My friend and I had decided for some reason to tell them that we were 26 instead of 30. I don't know why we picked 26, we could've gotten away with 24. They were shocked by 26!! Little did they know!

We had a great time playing pool and the cutest guy was flirting with me. I was playing pool like a pro - surprising considering I could barely see straight. Maybe wine enhances my pool playing abilities. The cute guy and I were on a team together and he kept hugging me and putting his arm around me. I'm not going to lie to you, it felt good. Especially because of all the frustration and confusion I've been feeling over my blue-eyed friend. A girl starts to think there might be something wrong with her after all you know.

We played pool until the bar closed. As we parted ways I told the boys our room number so they could call us the next day for breakfast or something. "547" I told them, "you can call us", and we went back to our room. Half an hour later there was a knock on the door. The boys had followed us home like puppies. We told them we were going to bed and made a joke about being old. Right before they left the cute one gave me his cell phone number. The next morning packing up our stuff and getting ready to leave, I looked at the number, sighed, and threw it away. Nothing good could come of that.

Is it pervy of me to confess that I have wished more than once since we've been back that I hadn't thrown that number out? He was cute and he was sweet and attentive. Maybe I need a fling with a college boy. Hey, if my ex can date an 18 year old, why do I feel so wrong entertaining the possibilities? What about Ashton and Demi? It can happen. What a perfect cure for the turning 30 crisis, right? I can still get a college guy! Of course, if I ever told him my real age he would be horrified. And that's why I threw out his number. He probably feels like I turned him down, but really, I was afraid he would turn me down for being too old.

And then I drove home in a blizzard, literally. My dad had called the night before when we were at the hotel bar and suggested, strongly, that we come back that night. I had to tell him I couldn't - because I'd been drinking. That was by no means the weirdest part of the weekend, but it was right up there.

2006-02-20T22:24:00.000-05:00

Last weekend I went away on a ski trip. Skiing was something I had never done in my life nor something I had any real desire to do but I like this guy so I thought I should try it. I didn't think I'd like skiing because I don't like winter or being cold but for skiing you get to wear fun things like ski jackets and neck-ups and put little packets of heated stuff in your gloves. And you get to go "cute-outdoorsy-type" when out on the mountain with fleecy vests and shape-hugging shirts with strategically placed graphics. And super cute waterproof boots on sale. Or at least I did.

My coworker, a fanatical skiier invited me along on her annual ski trip knowing that my special friend with the blue eyes (as well as some of our other coworkers) would be there. I invited a skiing friend and we got a room at an Inn with... wait for it... an outdoor heated pool! Have you ever heard of anything so bizarre? And yet so wonderful? It was such a great experience to be outside in a warm pool with snow all around. Steam was rising off the water because it was so cold and every now and then I would take a hand or foot out of the pool to remind myself how freezing cold the air was. But don't worry, the entrance to the pool was inside a building and there was a plastic curtain to swim through to get outside.

I signed up for a skiing lesson by myself for the morning and I was scared. My big fear was the chair lift but not for the reasons everyone seemed to think. I wasn't scared to fall out, I was scared to be stuck hanging in mid-air in another situation I couldn't control. When the instructor explained the agenda to the class, it sounded like the chair lift part would be extra, done later, if we really felt comfortable. So I relaxed a bit and shoved my feet into heavy constrictive rented ski boots. Then the instructor announced we would be taking a shuttle bus to the beginners slope and I began to worry anew. As I've mentioned before, my anxiety surges at the thought of riding in something which I'm not driving. It sounds silly I know but it is what it is.

Luckily I didn't have much time to think about it and it was a short ride. Thinking back I know that if I had known ahead of time, then that would have been the focus of my anxiety and I would've made a huge deal out of it with worrying and maybe even chickening out. But the fact that I just did it? It was nothing. I guess the key to overcoming anxiety is to stop thinking so much, but how?

Anyway I learned to ski. It was cumbersome trying to move with skis on and waiting in line for the rope tow and everything was a lot of work for like, 30 seconds of skiing but it was worth it. I only fell a couple times and that was when I didn't know how to stop myself from sliding away so I made an emergency stop by pitching myself to the ground. Once I couldn't get up and it was really rather comical. A bunch of little kids were trying to tell me how to manuver my skis but I just couldn't do it. Finally an instructor had to come and rescue me from sitting in the snow the rest of the day.

I guess I did really well according to the instructor. I'm a quick learner when I like something and I did like skiing. But at the end of the class it was time for everyone to take the chair lift and as I stood watching it slowly move along many feet up in the air, it suddenly stopped for several minutes. The image of skis swinging with no ground below them froze in my head. I couldn't do it. I had challenged myself enough for one day. I didn't want to ride it with the instructor who didn't understand my fears and was giving me a hard time. I wanted to go myself or with a friend. I said I'd had enough and called it a day.

Am I disappointed in myself? No, not if I go back and do it again soon before I lose my momentum but yes if I let it stop me from trying. Mostly I am proud of myself for facing my fears - the whole trip was scary for me what with being over three hours away from home and trying something new and the possibility of spending time with the guy I have a crush on without looking like a total loser... I could've opted out of the whole thing but I didn't and now I've discovered that I tried something new and enjoyed it.

There was a lot more to the weekend but it's a story for another day. You'll just have to wait in suspense to hear what happened with the boy (not much) and the drama that night (darn wine!) and the college boys we played pool with later (21 years old!!) - do you think we revealed our real age to them? But for now as a lovely three day weekend draws to a close, I have to think about possibly going to bed. Part two coming soon! (Really.)

2006-01-31T22:53:00.000-05:00

It's hard to believe that I can remember something from 20 years ago. That just sounds like a long time. It's easier to imagine something that happened when I was 10 or something that happened in 1986 because, really, who doesn't remember 1986?

When the Challenger disaster happened I was in fifth grade and our class went to the library to watch the space shuttle take off on television. We had been talking about it for weeks - a teacher was going to space! It was so exciting that I got a front row seat. Moments later the tv was off and we were being led back to our classroom. I don't think we understood what was going on. I don't think most adults watching grasped the sudden drama unfolding. I wish I remember more about afterwards. I wish I remember how the teachers handled it or what I thought. I wasn't thinking in terms of how I would see backwards from the distance of twenty years. I was thinking how sad it was the teacher wouldn't get to go to space after all. Probably.

On a related but different subject, Sunday was my dad's 60th birthday. When I was there, he pulled out the "decade" pictures. The first picture was taken in good old 1986 (which we all remember, right?) It is a picture of my dad showing a rectangular cake with "Happy 40th" written in m&m's. They didn't have blue m&m's then by the way. I know because the next decade picture, taken in 1996, showed a cake with "Happy 50th" in m&m's, including blue. I remember when there weren't any blue m&m's, but I don't remember how I felt when the Challenger disaster took place.

Anyway, in the 1986 picture the three of us kids are gathered around my dad, gazing at the cake. The cool thing is, we purposely posed the same way for the 1996 picture. So in the 1986 picture you see my dad on his 40th birthday (how old that must've seemed to me at the time and how young it seems now!) holding the cake. On his right is my brother looking quite young, and on his left is a high chair where my little sister was sitting looking every bit a baby, and between my dad and my sister with an arm around each, is me. I had my head turned down toward the cake and really you can mostly just see my hair. But you can see the smallness of my hand draped over my dad's shoulder.

In 1996 my dad is holding his cake and on his right is my brother in the height of adolescence, with shaggy hair and looking so different from 10 years earlier. Perhaps the most different is my sister, now sitting in a chair on my dad's left, smiling with teeth missing and looking as sweet and cute as any kid from a sitcom. Between them I stand looking, as my mom pointed out, basically just the same as I do now. It was startling to realize why - I was already 20 when the picture was taken, already sort of an adult - and it hit me that I haven't been a kid in a long time. Especially when I compared the size of my hand draped over my dad's shoulder in 1986.

We haven't taken a decade picture this year yet because my brother's in California. But when he visits this summer we will stage a "60th birthday" for my dad, complete with an m&m cake. I look forward to continuing to compare our pictures for decades to come.

2006-01-24T17:15:00.000-05:00

Earlier this winter it was snowing and I got to leave work at 4:00. On my way home I headed for a familiar road - a street that winds down a hill. I knew it wasn't ideal but I told myself I would be careful and drive very slowly. I started down the hill without realizing it was sheer ice.

I started to slide and with no control whatsoever, spun 180 degrees and landed in a snowbank facing up the hill. My little Neon was stuck. Frustrated, I got out of the car and saw a girl walking toward me. Turns out her car was stuck a little further down and wouldn't even start. The two of us watched as, moments later, a third car became lodged in a snowbank. The lady in the car rolled down her window and jokingly asked if we should order pizza since we weren't going anywhere for a while. It was troubling because I couldn't think what to do or who to call to help me. It's not like anyone could get there anyway without facing the same fate. But yet I was calmly accepting of the situation, probably because it was one of those weird moments where you are brought together with strangers who are suddenly like old friends.

The three of us watched in horror as cars lost control coming down the hill. The tires weren't even spinning, which indicated that the drivers were not driving, just sliding. One car came within about three inches of hitting mine. Surveying the cars strewn about the street, I knew it was only a matter of time before one of ours got hit. I've only had this car a couple of months and I sure as heck didn't want anything to happen to it. I took up a post watching for other cars appearing at the top of the hill. Whenever I saw one I frantically waved my arms and yelled "go back, we're stuck here!!" At one point a car stopped at the top of the hill and I heard a guy's voice yell, "I can't go back - I'm stuck too!" Seizing the opportunity to have a guy help us push our cars out, I yelled back "Can you help us?"

The guy made his way down the hill and with the help of a resident who happened to be out shoveling nearby, he pushed the third lady's car out and then went for mine. The street was so slippery that we were falling just walking across it - it was literally ice. I offered a ride to the girl who couldn't get her car started. After all, I would want someone to help me and besides, us girls have to stick together. She said she just wanted to get a bag out of her car and headed for it as the guys were pushing me free. After sliding gently down to the end of the street and making sure I was on solid ground, I parked to wait for the girl to get to my car.

All of a sudden out of nowhere, a car was behind me beeping the horn. There was no room to pull over so I had to drive out onto the main street and then go a little ways down into a parking lot that was mostly clear. Then I got out and made my way back through the snow. I was stepping in drifts up to my knees but I was afraid to walk on the street. It was slow going and my ears felt like they were potentially going to fall off but I couldn't leave that girl stranded. By the time I got back she was gone. The only person still around was the shoveler. He told me the girl got a ride with the other guy. I was a little bit glad because that meant I could go right home but I also felt bad because she must not have thought I was coming back.

I climbed back through the deep snow. My throat was aching in the way it only can when you are exerting yourself in extreme cold. I think I was never so happy to get into the car and crank the heat up. I got home in one piece, about the time I get home when I leave work at my normal time, and thought grumblingly about how much I hate winter. And then I thought about strangers helping each other and I realized that not one of us had even exchanged names.

2006-01-13T12:10:00.000-05:00

What people don't seem to realize is, I don't need advice for conversation starters, casual invitations, sly schemes, plots, and plans. I've got all that. I know how to ask someone out and I'm not afraid. I have conversational topics and common interests and friendly overtures galore.

What I need help with is how to deal with someone who is so desperately shy, they don't even converse in the first place. I know there is potential, after all, we spent the whole time together at a recent work function. But I sit here day after day in the center of everything, watching him walk by and smile, or smile and wave, or keep his head down. What am I supposed to do, call him over? I can't just tackle him in the hallway. Especially because I'm a little shy too.

And all I hear people say is how since he's so shy, I have to take the initiative and ask him out. Yes I know that and I am fully willing to do so, if for no other reason than to find out one way or the other instead of sitting here in limbo-land. That's not the problem. The problem is how to get him to talk to me in the first place. Every day I see him and I feel like banging my head against the wall repeatedly. He is making me crazy and I want him all the more.

2006-01-08T20:01:00.000-05:00

O.K. so it's Christmas Eve and you're lying in bed listening for sleigh bells when suddenly you hear noise coming from the chimney. Who is there bringing presents for you? If you answered Santa Claus, you'd be wrong - at least if you lived in Switzerland. Oh yes, I learned all about Swiss Christmas this holiday season.

For one thing, they use real candles on the tree. Real candles on the very flammable tree. A little crazy perhaps, but traditional nonetheless. And Santa Claus? No he doesn't bring presents on Christmas, he brings presents on December 6th, Saint Nicholas Day. I guess technically that makes more sense. So who leaves presents for you on Christmas you might be asking? Well it's your good friend Jesus, that's who. I'm not sure if he actually scoots up and down the chimney, but he does bring you presents, even though it's his birthday. Which, thanks to special holiday educational programs on PBS and the history channel, I can now say most assuredly that it is not actually his birthday at all. His real birthday is approximately April 17th, 6 B.C. (after telling that to my mom I asked, "hey, isn't that your anniversary?" to which she replied "yes, but not the 6 B.C. part - although it feels that way sometimes.") But I digress.

I'm not sure if Jesus leaves coal or withholds presents from you if you've been bad, but on St. Nicholas Day look out for Santa carrying a club to knock some sense into unruly children - for real! Coal? Those American children get off easy. And lest we forget about the third holiday of the season which doesn't even exist in America, I'll tell you what I can about Three Kings Day which takes place on January 6th - the twelvth day of Christmas.

There is a special cake or cakes for Three Kings Day and in one cake is a small plastic king (or in modern times, perhaps a queen just to make everything a little more inclusive). If your cake has the plastic royalty in it, you are the king/queen of the day and you get to wear a crown. So there's something else to look forward to after Christmas is over.

I tried to determine if Swiss people feel betrayal at the discovery that none of these things are real - Santa doesn't bring presents, Jesus doesn't stop by to drop off goodies, etc. But there seemed to be no anger to report. I remember feeling outraged at the revelation that Santa wasn't real. I wasn't so angry at my parents necessarily, but at adults in general for taking part in the grand conspiracy to manipulate children into behaving. I long ago decided that I won't tell my future children an outright lie like that. But I will still make sure they have magical holidays.

Oh and speaking of magical holidays, my brother didn't come home for Christmas this year but at least my sister's boyfriend was there in his place! My brother decided to spend Christmas in the magical California sunshine and he was greatly missed. But at least Santa wasn't waiting in a darkened living room with a club in hand ready to beat the crap out of us, so there's a plus.

2005-12-28T15:32:00.000-05:00

I'm still here, I just hate winter. This bank on my way to work, right where I get on the highway, sometimes it tells me the time and the temperature but sometimes instead it says things like "Season's Greetings!" or "Happy Birthday Joe!" or something. When it doesn't tell me the temperature I am all out of whack not knowing the temperature. Today it said "Season's Greetings!" and I have no idea what it's like outside.

Inside is slow and boring because everyone in the world is on vacation and I am the only one working. It has been a long long time since I have written here from work. I could literally fall asleep but instead I'm writing - and that, by the way, should tip you off as to the excitement of my content! I'm trying to catch up on my reading by making my way through the list on the right. Some of those links haven't been read in so long that the websites are no longer there, or have changed hands somehow. Have I been out of the loop or what? I just spent the past 45 minutes trying to catch up on Melissa's life because I had a lot of archives to get through. She is one person who I might accidentally go months without reading, but then have to read back through every single thing I've missed. There are a few like that.

I hope everyone had a nice Christmas/holiday. I got so many nice things including... a digital camera! I can't wait to start using it. Unfortunately, it has an instruction manual about as thick as a phone book so I've been putting that off. There is one present I am still waiting for however - and he has blue eyes. Gosh, I feel like such a silly little girl with my big crush on this boy. Any second I'm going to break into giggles and pass him notes that say "do you like me, circle one: yes no" Either that or I may just fall asleep, here at my desk, because it's just that boring around here today.

2005-11-26T14:00:00.000-05:00

Ah, it's that special time of year again - the holidays have begun. Of course, my family never celebrates holidays on the holiday anymore, the theory being, no one wants to drive on a holiday. So Thanksgiving I went to my parents' house and the three of us had frozen pizza before I left to see a movie with a friend.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving for us. Family gatherings always fill me with nervous apprehension so this time I spent some time quietly knitting in an empty room until my mom compared me to an old lady. It used to help me to have my boyfriend with me for these occasions but now of course, I'm on my own.

And speaking of the holidays, my Swiss roommate was horrified to hear of turducken - or whatever it's called. She found it insultingly undignified and really, she's right. Is there any need for that much poultry in one meal?

The other night we were watching tv when that Coke commercial came on with the polar bears and penguins sharing a Coke together. I wasn't paying much attention when suddenly my Swiss roommate declared, "Oh my God. Did they just show polar bears and penguins together? How ridiculous - the two would never meet! Polar bears live in the North Pole and penguins live in the South Pole. Do they think we are stupid or something?" My other roommate and I looked confused. "What? Polar bears and penguins don't live together drinking Coca Cola?" Then my roommate speculated that maybe the point of the commercial was that Coke brings these distant animals together. "No, you're over thinking it," I said, "they just don't think anyone will know better." So what does this say about our commercialized American minds? We won't notice such inaccuracy? Well now we will, won't we? Do they think we're stupid or something? But you know, it is a really cute commercial.

2005-11-13T21:25:00.000-05:00

I'm so sick of centipedes. In the eight months we have lived in this apartment I saw a centipede in the tub, one roommate had one in her bedroom and saw one in the hallway, and the other roommate, the science-lover, captured the largest centipede I've ever seen in an empty salsa container after it was spotted casually hanging out in the kitchen. "How fantastic!" she exclaimed, "my first centipede!" She captured him (her? it?) for the purpose of admiring the fascinating creature of nature but I told her there was no way I was sleeping if she left it in the house. I suspected it would be able to chew it's way through the salsa container. So she brought it to work for a little show and tell with her scientific coworkers.

Last night my centipede sightings total reached one more. This time I was looking for something in my bedroom, moved something on the floor and out scurried a centipede. I was horrified. I mean, my bedroom? Is nothing sacred? Acting on instinct I grabbed a nearby boot and smacked it down hard. Then I pressed down and slid the boot around a little, just to be sure. Then I piled other shoes onto the boot and ran to find my science roommate.

I stood in the hall outside my room while my roommate picked up the boot. Even with myopia and from that distance I could still see an oblong brown smear on the sole of the boot. "Well, you have quite a mess here," my roommate remarked. I handed her tissues and kept my eyes closed. All the while she congratulated me on having the presence of mind to smack the beast with a boot. It was a good shot too, centipedes move so fast and that one was running at close to the speed of light.

It took a while to relax because I would be willing to bet there are more centipedes not far away and that we just don't see them too often because of how fast they move. I guess there are worse things to have in my bedroom than a centipede or two. They are better than burglers for example, or ax-weilding psychopaths. They are better than brain-eating zombies, vampires, aliens, ghosts... no, on second thought, I'd rather have ghosts.

2005-11-06T21:55:00.000-05:00

One thing I really like about living in the Boston area is the historical aspect. I had the opportunity recently to do a volunteer event at a church in one of the many historically significant locales nearby. The event was not church related nor was it history related and was a very rewarding event in and of itself.

As an added bonus, at the end of the event, the volunteer coordinator took us for a tour of the church, explaining how it was the church of the Adams family - no, not the Addams family, I'm talking about the colonial presidents John Adams and his son John Quincy Adams. The church regularly gives tours for that very reason and charges money but we got to tour for free.

In the basement we entered a dark hallway with stone walls and cement floors and off to the side, a doorway with a wrought iron gate. Peeking through I could see some large stone shapes in a small room. "Wow, what's in there?" I asked. Matter of factly, the volunteer lady replied, "John Adams." What?? "You're kidding!" I remarked. But she was not kidding and she opened the wrought iron gate and led us into the Adams mosuleum. The large stone shapes were four tombs - John, his wife Abigail, their son John Quincy and his wife.

I was completely floored by the whole thing but I was most impressed to be in the presence of Abigail. I recently finished reading "Founding Mothers" and therefore know quite a bit about this amazing, courageous woman. As I was telling all this to the volunteer lady, recalling how Abigail stayed behind while her husband was off dealing with the revolution and how she alone was left to defend family and homestead, I looked down and noticed my hand resting on the top of her tomb. I had chills to say the least - there I was recounting the details of a two hundred year old historical figure with my hand resting on the cool rough stone of her tomb. It was almost as if she was in the room with me. A very surreal experience all around. So you see, volunteer work can pay off in more ways than you might expect.

2005-11-01T20:44:00.000-05:00

Recently we had a huge party at my apartment. The place was packed so full we had to open windows to cool off. I only knew a handful of people and the rest were collective friends of my roommates, or friends of friends.

At one point my roommate asked me to take some pictures for her and I became a wandering photographer, approaching strangers and asking them to pose. It was really fun and I got some great shots.

The best pictures by far are the ones I took of my bat balloon. My bat balloon was just floating around by himself at the supermarket when we went to stock up on party supplies. One look and I had to have him. He is one of those shiny balloons that stay up for days. His face is huge and his wings are tiny and he is ever so cheerful, two little fangs poking out from his wide smile.

I brought him home and left him in the living room for the party. At first I was just taking pictures of people with him but as the night progressed I photographed him admiring some flowers, eating the dip I made, flirting with pretty ladies, and imbibing plenty of wine. He had a great time really, perhaps more than a bat balloon should. My roommates thought I was insane but I don't mind. In fact as type this, he is across the room, floating gently to and fro and grinning at me with his large happy face.

2005-10-23T21:21:00.000-04:00

Looks like Sunday night is my writing night around here. I know I've been really neglecting my writing lately. It's tough because work has become so busy, I can barely steal a minute to read a blog or two. Oh well, excuses excuses.

And speaking of excuses, I'm just beating off the guys with a stick right now. Just before logging into blogger I checked my email and there was one from a guy I met recently while volunteering. He asked me if I want to grab coffee sometime or something, he said he wanted to get to know me better. Trouble is, while I thought he was nice, there is just no attraction there on my part. I didn't give him my email - he got it from the volunteer list because he's one of the coordinators. So how do I respond to that?

When word gets out that you're single again suddenly everyone knows a lonely guy they think you should meet. Within the past couple weeks two coworkers approached me about guys (one a best friend's brother, and the other's brother-in-law). The brother-in-law sent me an email asking me if I want to grab coffee sometime (are you detecting a theme here??) But it's hard to be excited when my coworker described him by saying, "I'm going to be honest, he's not the best looking guy" and that he's kept asking her, "don't you work with any single girls?"

Late last Friday night one would-be suitor actually had the courage to ask me in person if I want to "have dinner sometime". Of course, I'm not interested in him either. He is a coworker who I thought was just friendly and I'd been friendly back. Guess he got the wrong idea, or his hopes up anyway. He was a little easier to turn down because I just told him I was interested in someone else, which is true. I am pursuing other interests right now. But it seems like a lame excuse to use over email with guys I barely know. What's a girl to do? I know it sounds silly, but that is one tricky thing I've never found easy - how to politely decline and yet still be friendly, without sending mixed messages? I have to give the coworker a lot of credit because all week he was as normal and friendly as ever, as if there had never been an awkward invitation outside of a local bar.

And speaking of coworkers and invitations, I know you've all been waiting to hear how my lunch went. I don't want to disappoint, but it was rather anti-climactic. We talked, we ate, we walked back. He was super polite and he paid for my lunch, but really, he'd have to come right out and make some sort of serious declaration for me to understand he's interested. Partly I think he might be, but partly I'm just not sure. There has been no follow up or future invitations since but I am going to be patient.

The thing about putting yourself out there in a situation that isn't just a "safe" guy is, if he's not interested, I can't rationalize it any other way than "it must be me". Safe guys are safe because they have other reasons for not getting involved. But I think he's worth the risk so we'll see what happens.

2005-10-16T20:51:00.000-04:00

When was the last time you had such a big crush on someone that you felt physically ill when they were around? Never? O.K., I guess it's just me then.

Here's the short version: he's new at my work and I've had my eye on him since he came in for his interview. He's shy and sweet and single. Crushing from afar was working out just fine but now he's asked me out to lunch! We were supposed to go Friday but it's been rescheduled to tomorrow.

When I think about going my stomach twists up into knots. What will we talk about? We're both so shy with each other that we've barely exchanged a few words in the whole month he's been there. Now we're supposed to go to lunch, just the two of us? What if I say something stupid? What if I do something stupid?

I read once that people who have anxiety disorders confuse the feelings of excitement with panic. They are physically similar - racing heart, sweating palms, surging adrenaline. I'm supposed to be excited going to lunch with a nice guy and instead I'm gripped by fear. Sometimes I think I'd rather be alone - this stuff is just too hard.

2005-10-10T21:36:00.000-04:00

Recently a friend and I innocently stepped into a place to get some lunch and were attacked by onions. Standing at the menu board we both started to feel a familiar stinging sensation in our eyes. We thought someone was cooking or cutting onions behind the counter. The proprieter called us cry babies and opened the door for air. I was confused by this - can people develop an immunity to onions? But I realized later that he thought we were bothered by the smoke from cooking.

As we stood contemplating our orders we were surprised that the onion pain was getting worse and not better. By the time I handed my money to the cashier I was so overwhelmed by onion that I had tears streaming down my face and I could barely open my eyes. The cashier was looking at me curiously and I guess I can't blame her.

Moments later we discovered the source of the problem. Next to the menu board, on a counter, was a large tub of onions stewing in their own juices and inflicting pain on unsuspecting passersby. After we sat down and started to recover we discussed the many mysteries involved in the situation - why were the employees unaffected? Is it possible to adjust or would the pain keep growing worse and worse until it killed you? Why had the guy called us cry babies? Could you use onions as a torture device to glean information from the enemy? And why the heck do onions make you cry anyway? I mean really why? Is there some evolutionary necessity here that I'm just missing? With all the genetic engineering going on these days couldn't someone breed an inoffensive onion? As you can see our onion incident raised some serious questions. But at least our lunch was tasty.

2005-10-06T09:31:00.000-04:00

Anyone know what day it is today? I'll give you a hint: it has to do with me turning 30...

2005-10-02T19:59:00.000-04:00

I am dangerously addicted to animal crackers. Actually, I am addicted to Stauffer's animal crackers. They have just the right crunch and just the right flavor. I have a bazillion "snack" size bags in my desk drawer at work because my coworker, who I turned on to the addiction, now buys them in bulk and gives me bunches. She always says, "let me know when you are running out of bags because there's plenty more where those came from." She keeps me well stocked. Everyday about 3, I crack open a bag and now I even have some at home too. Ah, partially hydrogenated soybean oil, I just can't get enough. Actually, I'm probably not doing myself any favors with that, but I can't seem to stop eating them.

And speaking of addictive substances, my Swiss roommate brought me back some special "calming" tea from when she went to Switzerland for a friend's wedding. I drank a cup and could barely keep my eyes open. The next day I told her how calming the tea was and how I passed right out after drinking it. I said, "what's in it, drugs?" She laughed and said they are liberal, but not that liberal. But who knows? The box is covered with German, I can't read it. It could list roofies as an ingredient and I wouldn't know it. It could be full of partially hydrogenated soybean oil and I would have no idea.

2005-09-25T20:38:00.000-04:00

About a month ago, my friend and I signed up to volunteer for a few hours cleaning up the area around a large river. Yesterday was the day the event took place and the hours were supposed to be 9 - 2. However just getting there was a comedy of errors for us.

I was ready to go and waiting on my friend when she called me from home at 8:45 to say she had just woken up. At that point I was ready to write the whole thing off wondering what I was thinking signing up to do unpaid physical labor so early on a Saturday morning. But she was insistent on going.

By the time she got to my place, and we had stopped at Dunkin Donuts for coffee, and we had found the place we were supposed to meet the other volunteers, and we had parked the car a mile away in a free parking lot, it was after 10. To make matters worse, I was wearing the stupidest choice of shoes. The activity coordinator said to wear sturdy shoes and I knew that they should be shoes I wouldn't care about getting grubby. Therefore, I didn't want to wear my favorite (and only) pair of sneakers which are maroon and purchased on zappos at a huge discount. I had instead selected an old pair of black slip on shoes with thick solid soles that I've had forever and were basically on their last leg.

What I didn't realize was that my shoes were impossibly uncomfortable for walking any distance. I hadn't expected walking to be involved and continuously berated my decision as I hobbled down the road. Finally we made it back to the meeting spot and there were no volunteers to be found. We had the cell phone number for the activity coordinator... back in the car.

After another walk back to the car in the dreaded shoes I was at that point, really pushing for calling it a day and going out for breakfast. But my friend, good person that she is, offered to call the guy and just tell him we had car trouble or something and did they still need us to come? We were expecting to get his voicemail or at least have him say not to bother at that point but instead he was delighted to hear from us and eager to have us join the effort. So eager in fact that he called her cell phone twice while we were once again enroute, just to make sure we were coming.

We finally found the group and were greeted joyously. I realized that in the world of volunteer work late truly is better than never. We were told what to do - we were supposed to be cutting the over growth with hedge clippers in the area between the road and the river. The area of course happened to be on an incline. In my stupid shoes I nearly tumbled into the river several times before even getting started. Hearing my distress the activity coordinator said he had another job for me instead which was really a blessing in disguise.

He led me to a flatter surfaced area near a bridge that was covered with trash and gave me gloves, a trash bag, and a stick with a little spear at the end for skewering the trash. Then he wished me luck and left me there by myself. I know picking up trash isn't the most glamourous job in the world, but it was certainly easier that pruning shrubbery on a slippery incline. Plus, I enjoyed working by myself and not feeling like anyone was watching my progress.

And I found some interesting things! There were plenty of papery objects which were easy to spear but there were some things a bit more challenging. I discovered that if you step on a beer can so it is dented and can't roll away, it can be speared quite easily. I found that fabrics are tough to spear and you really have to give it your all, and that empty glass liquor bottles can't be speared at all and have to be picked up by gloved hand. I even found some used condoms and the top of a syringe. (And in case you were curious, condoms can be picked up with a spear, but syringes can't.) I also found some unused condoms still in their packages and I drove my spear through their centers I thought to myself, "well these won't be preventing any venereal diseases or unwanted pregnancies."

I found what must have been a homeless person's domicile. There was a large spread of flattened cardboard boxes laid out on the ground about the size of a bed. There were also boots (standing up about feets-width apart as if someone had been wearing them when they just happened to spontaneously combust), a pair of jeans laid out neatly, and even a pair of underwear. I was half expecting to find a dead body or a limb or something. If I have ever felt like I was on an episode of CSI, this was the time.

All in all it was very exhausting but very satisfying to see the end result of a trash free natural setting. It really made me wonder what the heck is wrong with people that they can so casually litter nature with such horrifying objects. I did feel a little bit bad that a homeless person was going to arrive later and find that his bed and boots had disappeared. But on the other hand, I noticed a small bunny hiding in the grass who stayed nearby watching me most of the time. So I felt really good that I rid his habitat of used condoms and hypodermic needles.

2005-09-14T20:38:00.000-04:00

Ever since the new craft studio opened up nearby I've been making jewelry like crazy. Most of it is wire and bead type creations which are not hard to mess up.

The other night I went to a craft event to make fancy bangle bracelets. I didn't know what to expect but it turned out to be plastic bangle bracelets that you could wrap ribbon around, attach velvet to, glue sparkley things on, etc. It had so much potential.

After sewing a strip of dark blue velvet and sawing the plastic bangle in half to fit the velvet onto it, I looked at my beautiful bracelet and thought, "this looks great but it needs something more". So then I made the mistake of glueing sequins and sparkleys and all sorts of things to it. It was a mess - glue everywhere, sequins hanging askew, etc.

So much for my artistic vision. I don't honestly know if I can wear it in public. It looks like something a kid might make at summer camp. I should've just glued on some macaroni and called it a day.

2005-09-11T21:46:00.000-04:00

On a recent vacation day I went to visit my parents on their vacation. Every year they go for a week to a place that is a combination of a New Hampshire farm and a resort/summer camp. The place hosts activities for all ages - swimming, horseback riding, tennis, etc. There is also one main dining hall and all meals are served at particular times and marked by bells so guests know when to come. I had never been there before but other summers my parents took my sister and they always coordinated their visit with my aunt, uncle, and cousins.

The drive up there was fascinating because I passed through all these non-places which made me feel like I was in the middle of nowhere. What's strange for me to realize, having spent my entire life living in the suburbs of Boston, is that a lot of Massachusetts is really quite rural. There are these city areas and then in the middle and the western part of the state, it's mostly small communities. Some I've never even heard of. I drove right through the center of one town which was full of banners advertising their annual chili bake-off as if it were the high point of the year. Then I saw a sign I was entering another town, and saw nothing but rolling fields and wooded areas and the occasional sign for something with the town's name on it (the local church, library, gas station, etc.) I swear this went on for ages, maybe even 20 miles before I finally entered another town. I could not imagine growing up in a town like that.

Finally I arrived at the farm and found my parents. Before long I realized that the guests were not my demographic whatsoever. There were plenty of older people and young families with children. No one my age. The whole setting (all the little buildings, the mountains in the background, the dining hall, the end-of-the-week talent show) really reminded me of Dirty Dancing sans any sexy dance instructors.

The highlight of the day was when my mom and I went exploring and found a working hot tub in the basement of one of the buildings. We were enjoying it for all of two minutes when an unwelcome visitor floated through the swirling waters right past my chest. Yes, it was a huge daddy-long-legs spider. If you know me you know how I feel about spiders and daddy-long-legs are like mutant spiders on steroids in my opinion. I was out of the hot tub in seconds flat screaming loudly. My mom is completely indifferent to spiders. She assured me the spider had long since drowned and she proceeded to try to catch it in her hands to throw it out of the hot tub but she kept losing it. I stood dripping in my bathing suit a safe six or so feet away pointing, "There he is! Get him! Oh god!"

Finally she asked me to hand her the piece of wood on the side of the hot tub attached to the key we were given in order to get into the basement. She scooped him up onto the wood and laid him on the side. It was still too close for me however because I couldn't even look at the thing let alone get back in the hot tub. She nonchalantly said that I should take the wood and dump the spider into a conveniently nearby wastebasket. No small task for someone who couldn't look at the spider. I had to trust her to tell me that I was picking up the far end of the wood and then after waving it frantically over the wastebasket I would hold the wood out and say, "is he gone?" But he wouldn't go away! He was wet and stuck to the wood. My mom suggested scraping him against the edge of the wastebasket and the whole process was greatly traumatic. Just writing this now I am getting chills. I think I've blocked out whatever happened next because the next thing I know I was peering into the hot tub for other offending creatures before gingerly climbing back in for a brief time.

Needless to say I was so very glad to return to the city at the end of the day where although we do not have annual chili bake-offs, at least the spiders are smaller.

2005-09-01T21:43:00.000-04:00

I've been on vacation this week which explains my absence here - sorry. It's hard to get motivated to sit and write especially since my computer is so much slower than my work computer and I swear this one has a virus. Every other page I pull up triggers a little pop up asking me if I want to download micromedia flash or something. No matter how many times I say no, they just keep asking.

The other day I went to the Science Museum and spent a good deal of time exploring the feature exhibit about the human brain. I watched a little movie saying that half of all people will experience a brain disfunction at some point in their lives. I was slightly horrified until they started giving examples and the very first one was anxiety disorder. I guess I'm covered then.

A lot of people, particularly those who don't have anxiety, don't seem to understand that it is physiological, like any illness, and not just something a person does to cause trouble and inconvenience for themselves and everyone around them.

I've always had slight anxiety over one thing or another and I've suffered my share of panic attacks. But four and a half years ago, for some reason, it all became much worse. I always avoided elevators for as long as I can remember, but I was o.k. in other settings that may have seemed claustrophobic to some. Then one day, we were having a meeting at work in the conference room with no windows. Even though I had sat in there for countless meetings in the past, when the door was shut on that particular occasion, I had a panic attack and an urge to jump up and run out of the room. I didn't of course, but knowing I could get up and open the door was no longer enough to make me feel safe. I suddenly had a new concern of what people would think if I got up and opened the door.

Right around the time of that first panic attack, I had another one while riding in someone's car. It was someone I didn't know well and I was in the backseat and we were on the highway. Out of the blue for no apparent reason I realized that I was stuck and not in control. I was not controlling the car, I couldn't get out, I was basically trapped until we reached our destination.

Over time I have gotten a little better and I don't mind telling you that I am taking Zoloft. Although Zoloft has the super cute bouncy spokes... person? Bean? Bubble? you have seen the commercials I'm sure, it is certainly not so magical as to make the unbearable bearable. Medicine can take the edge off, but the anxiety is still there, and the avoidance is extremely difficult to overcome.

It's especially difficult when people become frustrated with me. Just tonight I made plans with my dad to go on a few errands tomorrow involving a car (more on the car in a future post!) He himself suffered from the same anxieties years ago (unbeknownst to me until recently). But he asked if I minded him driving, saying "you don't feel anxious with me driving, right?" The fact is I feel anxious with anyone else driving. Yes, I have taken short trips through town in my dad's car but that doesn't mean I'm cured or that I will never again feel anxious with him driving.

So my mother and I were talking about it and she got really frustrated with me asking, "well, are you going to be like this the rest of your life?" God I hope not. But this is the same mother who has experienced her own "brain disfunction" in the form of depression. The same mother who reasoned with me when I was hesitant about taking medication that if I had a disease, I would take medicine for it, right? It would be stupid not to.

She thinks I need to go to therapy or take more medication or something. She thinks those things will help. I feel hopeless that nothing will help because I've tried it all. How is talking about my anxiety going to make it go away? And how much medication do I have to take to feel nothing? Do I have to take a daily tranquilizer or something so that I don't end up frustrating people with my anxiety?

My father called back and kindly told me not to worry, I could drive for our errands tomorrow. I hung up the phone and I just started to cry. When I have to defend my anxiety to someone I feel like I'm giving the anxiety more power. People don't seem to understand it's not so simple. It's not like I can make the decision to ride in someone's car and do it and then suddenly I'm over the whole thing.

I wasn't always like this and I don't want to be like this anymore. I'm frustrated with myself probably more than anyone else is. Do you think it's easy arranging things so that you're always the one driving? Let me assure you, it can be very tricky with people you don't know well enough to confess all this to. And besides, I don't want to confess it to anyone else. When I do people are always nice enough to let me drive all the time and that's not really helping me in the long run is it? I don't know what to do, I really don't. But at least I've got my brain disfunction out of the way right?

2005-08-25T21:20:00.000-04:00

Recently I've been embracing my inner science geek. Finally there was just no denying the fact that I love PBS and the Discovery Channel. Shows about DNA testing and carbon dating and quantum physics. These are a few of my favorite things. Nova and Scientific American Frontiers with Alan Alda - woo hoo! Even the books I've been delving into of late are sciencey - genetics, cosmology, the nature of time - all topics I've enjoyed, if not entirely understood.

On a recent day off, I found myself in a bookstore geared towards the students of a particular prestigious, science-oriented, world-renowned university. I wandered up and down the rows of books not finding what I was looking for. Finally in a special section entitled "reference" that actually took up half the store, I saw the sign that said "science". I actually thought to myself "yay, science!" and smiled right there and then for all to see as I made my way over to the science books.

What's interesting about all of this is that I definately wasn't aware of my scientific leanings before. I've always been interested in these things, I just never made the connection. I can remember the last time I proclaimed an interest in science. I was in the fifth grade and I signed up for an after school science program. The first day I walked in and realized I was the only girl there. After all, there definately was an undercurrent about science and math being for boys more than girls. I hadn't acknowledged it, but at that moment I remember thinking that maybe I wasn't supposed to like science because I was a girl. Maybe science was boy-stuff. And remember, in fifth grade, boys were yucky. Some of them still are. And speaking of yucky, one of the things we did in that program was dissect worms. I think I felt even more out of place, repulsed by the smell of formaldehyde and the waxy worm skin, among boys who were excitedly throwing worms at each other and eagerly cutting them up.

And now one of my roommates is an actual scientist. Science is her job and she is the smartest person I know. Keeping in mind that she is from Europe, she was honestly surprised when I told her of my revelation that science was for boys. She had never heard such outrage. She just wasn't taught that way. Now she has inspired me to accept my inner scientist. And I realize that science is for everyone! But I still don't want to cut up worms. In fact, I feel kind of sorry for the worms.

Oh and speaking of dissection, I will never forget the way my seventh grade science teacher looked at the frog I was dissecting and said, "wow, what a remarkably large liver!" as he reached into my little aluminum tray, pulled the organ in question right out of the frog it was still attached to with nothing but his bare hands, and held it up to his face for examination. Really, is it any wonder I was a little put off by science?

2005-08-20T22:19:00.000-04:00

During a recent visit to my parents' house, they asked me to clean out a couple drawers in my old bedroom so they could use the space. Sifting through two decades of my life was pretty interesting. There were such prized possessions as plastic jewelry, banana clips (remember those?), notes from high school friends, a teensy pair of glasses that fit my face at five, a whole collection of buttons like the ones we used to pin all over our jean jackets - there was one I had made and decorated with pink hearts that said, "I love Bon Jovi!!", a short story written by me in elementary school and typed on a typewriter (it was actually a really good story and sort of humorous! Maybe I'll post it sometime), hair ribbons, old pictures, and a whole array of other things that were once important enough to keep.

Side note: I found a super cute picture of my cousin when he was a baby. When he was born I was in junior high school. When he was an infant I used to sit on the couch at my aunt's house holding him and pretending he was my baby - like a doll, only real. I actually saw him last week. He is turning 18 at the end of this month.

Anyway, going through those drawers was a fascinating trip down memory lane. Then just tonight I happened to smell something plastic just for an instant that brought me right back to second grade when the most wonderful things in the world were plasticky-smelling prism stickers. Prism stickers had liquid inside them and you could press on them to move the liquid around. For some reason we could buy them at school sometimes along with scratch and sniff stickers and small erasers shaped like hearts and flowers. It's just amazing to think back at how important these things were at the time. Treasured and loved and stored in drawers in my old bedroom just like a time capsule waiting for me to open it. Except instead of just finding erasers and banana clips and notes from old friends, I found a long forgotten piece of myself.

2005-08-15T17:10:00.000-04:00

I have been doing so much lately and having a great time. Last week I was out three nights in a row! That hasn't happened since I was still living at my parents house and felt desperate to escape nightly.

Wednesday night was dinner with my old roommate. Remember the one I was most recently living with who decided to move in with her boyfriend? Well they broke up and she moved out and I'm just now realizing how much of a crazier partier she is. Dinner wasn't so crazy, but some of her stories were. No wonder she always made me feel like an old lady while she was off drinking until all hours of the morning when her boyfriend wasn't around.

Thursday night I got together with five strangers for an evening of pottery. I had replied to something I saw about a women's only social group when I saw that they were doing one of my favorite things - paint your own pottery. The girls are all in my age range and we had a great time. No one knew anyone else and they all turned out to be really nice. Most of all, I feel proud of myself for doing something like that - getting out there and doing something with people I don't know. The only weird thing is that I was the only one who is originally from Massachusetts. They were from all over. That's something I've been noticing a lot lately. Is it weird that I still live within a couple of miles from where I grew up? I really like Boston. Of course I haven't been many other places but I somehow feel compelled to relocate, like it's a rite of passage.

Friday night was another jewelry making event with wine! Did I tell you that I've been doing lots of jewelry making lately? It's really fun but a rather expensive hobby. For example, I'm wearing a super cool ring at this moment that I made only last night. I would say the cost for the materials was somewhere around $10. At the studio where I've been doing jewelry making they sell rings just like mine for $35 each. I can make the exact same rings so how can I start selling them and raking in the big bucks? My friend and I were thinking of renting a table at a craft fair or something and selling jewelry but really, I don't know much about becoming an entrepreneur. Also, I think it would be really hard parting with the things I make. They are all very special to me even when they don't come out well.

My only complaint about the last week were the guys at the burrito place I stopped at after pottery. The way they were looking at me made me feel sort of dirty and they were saying things in Spanish while looking at me. Finally one said, "I was just saying that you are beautiful". Yikes! Just give me my burrito and hold the creepy compliments please, thanks.

2005-08-11T16:56:00.000-04:00

I love my new neighborhood, but I am still getting used to the sights and sounds. For example, it often smells like freshly baked cookies outside. Now this is fortunate because I know there are a lot of worse things it could smell like. The problem is, I have no idea where the smell is coming from. I figure there must be a factory someplace baking cookies in bulk and if I could sniff it out and track it down I sure would.

At the beginning of every month, we are awoken to a loud recording saying that cars on the street will be towed due to street cleaning. This is actually a great idea - to drive around warning people rather than just towing. And speaking of cars, I have seen more than one fall victim to a "boot". I've hardly ever seen one of those until I moved.

Yesterday morning I walked out the front door and almost stepped right into someone's unfinished meal. There was, on our front steps, a plate of half eaten chicken wings. The plate itself was not a paper plate, but someone's actual dinner plate. It was purple in color and I found myself admiring it as I stared down at the chicken wings in disbelief.

My apartment is in a duplex of sorts so technically, within our house, there are four apartments. I know that my roommates weren't snacking on the stoop because we don't have any fancy purple plates. Yet someone for some reason, left their plate on the top step directly outside our door. It was so random that I found myself trying to think of the story behind it. Someone was eating on the steps and had to leave in a big hurry, obviously. But why?

When I got home later the plate was still there but when I went back out still later, it was gone. Thank goodness because I sure didn't want to touch it.

2005-08-07T22:48:00.000-04:00

I just want to thank you all for the support and advice you gave me in regard to my last post. Every little comment meant so much to me to read. Sometimes during a difficult experience, it's easy to feel alone and to forget that other people have been there. It helps just to hear similar stories from those who have gone through something and lived to tell the tale. So thank you - I really do appreciate it.

* * * * *

The other night my roommate and I took a really long walk for exercise purposes. We walked down the main street, over by the river, and then cut back up a parallel busy street. As we were walking past the river, we encountered a man on a bike riding straight towards us. He announced "ladies, on your left" so that we would move to one side, only it was confusing because we weren't sure if he truly meant our left since he was veering in that direction, or his left. As we scrambled to clear the way, we saw that he definately wasn't your average evening bike rider. In fact, he seemed drunk and as he passed us, he smelled drunk as well.

One near miss with a drunken biker was enough but several minutes later we heard a familiar voice behind us say "ladies, between the two of you or to one side - your choice." Our choice? How long did we get to make the choice? Not long considering he was practically on top of us. Turns out Mr. Drink and Ride had forgotten his back pack up ahead in the darkness. "I'm so relieved no one took it!" he exclaimed. But in this day and age, really, who is going to pick up and carry off an unattended back pack? There could be anything in there.

And while we're on the subject of creepy things, I'd also like to mention that on the third leg of our walk, on the brightly lit sidewalk of the busy street, something large suddenly ran toward us. So large in fact that I with my myopia could see it distinctly sprinting in our direction. It was a huge cockroach. And by huge I mean that it was the size of a small dog. We screamed and darted out of it's path and then watched it continue hurriedly toward a local eating establishment. It was quite a sight indeed.

2005-07-30T09:09:00.000-04:00

I know why I've had such a hard time writing lately. My mind is completely preoccupied with a situation that I haven't wanted to write about and therefore any other topic seems fluffy and unnecessary. I may as well just get this out right?

For the entire time I have been writing here, I had a boyfriend who I never wrote about. I don't know why I didn't... I guess because for one thing, people I know read this and I didn't need to give them an in depth look at my relationship. For another thing, deep down inside I have known for a long time that he is not the right one for me and I knew the end was inevitable. So why bother saying anything?

A couple of months ago, we broke up in a rather anticlimactic way. In fact, it coincided with my move so I was for the most part, doing just fine. I had so many new and different things going on. Plus, I felt a little bit relieved. Not because I didn't want to be with him, but because the impending reality had been whispering in my ear for a long time. Things about growing up and needing to figure it all out and not waste anymore time in my life.

The biggest problem with the separation is that he was my best friend. Although we were quite different in a number of key ways that would crop up down the line in the not-so-distant future and we both knew that, during the day to day we were amazingly matched. We laughed and talked and had so much fun together.

So I thought I was ready to be friends. I thought I could handle it. We got together a few weeks ago and things were great. Just like old times (in the friendship sense). Then over dinner, he told me he is seeing someone new. Someone dramatically younger than him and someone who he thinks could be "the one". I immediately lost my appetite.

This whole thing has been devastating for me. It has brought to the surface so many memories from the beginning when he felt that way about me. Ultimately knowing that we don't belong together has not been able to stop me from feeling so terrible. I can't stop myself from thinking things I shouldn't and I can't seem to get the whole mess out of my head.

I miss him in so many ways. And on top of it all, I know he genuinely wants to be friends with me. He has always felt the way I did about the friendship aspect of our relationship. I want to be friends too. But I can't even talk to him right now. I just can't. Not because I'm angry but because it just hurts so much. I'm still going over in my head what went wrong with us and at what point did he stop feeling like it was me who might be "the one". Never mind my own revelations - I know it's not rational.

I also know that on occasion, he reads this blog. I didn't want him to think that I was pining away for him, wanting to get back together. I'm not and I don't. I have a lot of mixed feelings. In some ways I feel angry - how could he have gotten over me so quickly? In some ways I feel nonsensical - I don't want him to be with someone else, even though I don't want him for myself. This is all a jumble of things that I don't want him to read about here because they are just words. I may feel a million different things from minute to minute and then they are gone. The real truth is I am just sad. I am mourning the loss of us and I am baffled that he is not. But I know that it will all be o.k. I know that I need to feel bad right now and that I will get over this.

And if he happens to be reading, well I guess it doesn't matter if he knows all of that.

2005-07-25T16:50:00.000-04:00

This morning I said to myself, "Self, come hell or high water, you are posting today." What does that even mean - hell or high water? It's kind of funny. Anyway, I fully intended to write something last Friday but I ended up actually having a ton of work to do. I've actually had a super busy couple of weeks at work. That's why I've gotten way behind on my blog reading (and writing). Oh well, enough of my excuses.

I'd like to tell you that I saw an outstandingly good movie that I would recommend to anyone. It is called Me and You and Everyone We Know and it is funny and great and amazing. Go see it now and report back to me.

Secondly, I have discovered a wonderful book called "29 and Counting: A Chick's Guide to Turning 30". I have only just started it and I feel like it is speaking directly to me. I almost started crying while I was reading, not because turning 30 is so awfully sad, but because this book has just been completely validating me and giving me hope. So if you are anywhere near the big 3-0 and are feeling the pressure, read this book.

O.K., now that I've gotten my movie and book recommendations out of the way, I'll tell you a little something else that's been on my mind. I realized yesterday that aside from coffee, I have drank (drunk? drinken?) nothing but water for so long I don't remember the last time I had anything else to drink. I realized this when I poured myself a glass of yummy mango juice and barely felt thirst quenched because it was so darn sweet.

Something else I've been tossing around in my head: I think that if you start seeing someone else soon after breaking up with someone, that means that your previous relationship meant nothing to you and that sucks. Just hypothetically.

Also I have had a life changing revelation: I am in desperate need of a bicycle. There are certain places in the city which are just too far to walk to and too ridiculously short to drive to. I am going to check my old friend craigslist. If I ride my bike I can't be followed by weirdos on foot.

And finally, I am so happy that it's that magical time of year again, Big Brother is back. You may recall that Big Brother is my only reality show I like. I was going to say it's a guilty pleasure but I actually have to confess that I have a real guilty pleasure and it's something I don't even want to admit to, even to you loyal readers. But I will because I am all about honesty in this space. Secretly, I have been enjoying and singing along with her when she comes on the radio. But I haven't bought the album, I swear!! Now what are your guilty pleasures? Come on, I shared mine.

2005-07-19T17:03:00.000-04:00

On Saturday afternoon, I was browsing in my local new age bookstore. The one that's located on the main street where everything is. Everything that I can walk to anyway. I picked up a book from a table about the secrets of the Davinci Code or something like that. I was looking at it when suddenly a random creepy guy started talking to me out of nowhere. He was complaining, rather strongly, about the author and how the book was not based on fact (um, duh, it's a novel not an encyclopedia). He started talking about a book that he claimed was fact based, the bible. I started to think that he was one of those religious fanatics that hangs out at new age bookstores waiting to tell people how evil everything is.

Not knowing what to do, I sort of politely nodded and said, "that's a good point" and started to turn away. He kept going and I continued nodding, "mmmhmmming", and trying to turn away. Finally I managed to get away from him but I didn't want to leave immediately thinking he might follow me or something. Plus, he was between me and the door.

I spent several minutes intensely scrutinizing the various crystals on the counter. Then, checking to see that he was not looking, I made my escape. I was glad to be away from him because he freaked me out a little. It's o.k. to talk to a stranger about a book, but it's not o.k. to start venting to a stranger, in an angry tone, about a book they've just been looking at. That is not friendly, it's frightening.

I ducked into a coffee shop two doors down. I waited in line, ordered an iced chai, paid for it, and turned to leave. Who do you think was standing there waiting for me just inside the door? That's right, it was the creepy guy. He started talking again right where he left off. He told me he had seen me in that book store a few times (that was honestly only the second time I'd been in there). He said he had been wanting to say something encouraging to me. Encouraging?? He started asking me questions about what I did and where I was from. I gave short vague answers and when I found an opening, said that I had to be going to meet someone.

Finally outside, I walked home as fast as I could, checking behind me and taking different streets than I normally would, just in case. It was creepy on so many levels but here are the most obvious - asking me 80 million questions, saying he'd seen me a few times, and getting visibly emotional about the Davinci Code. I wish politeness and social grace were not such ingrained characteristics. I wish that I had not been afraid to appear rude and said, "get away from me you weirdo!" Now I'm sort of afraid to walk up there again. What do I do if I see him and he tries to talk to me? Any ideas? After all, it was bound to happen eventually that I would have a run in with someone creepy, considering I live in the big city now. I better prepare myself for the next time something like that happens. Yikes!

2005-07-14T16:25:00.000-04:00

Yesterday morning I had a headache. My usual dilemma with headaches is that if I don't eat a solid meal before taking an advil, I will get sick. So I thought I could just hang in there until lunch time. I don't know why I thought that because so many times I've been through this before where I think I can just wait to take something and then I feel worse and worse.

Before I could eat lunch however, I suddenly took a rapid turn for the worse. I broke into a cold sweat and got all shaky and nauseous. I told the coworkers in my department I wasn't feeling well and everyone kept saying things like, "you don't look well" or "you look pale" or "you look completely ashen". It was all very strange and if I had been of my right mind, I might've gone to look in the mirror because I would like to know what someone looks like when they look "ashen".

Anyway, they sent me home post haste. A block or so from the office, stuck at a red light, I realized that throwing up was inevitable. At first my mind raced to where I could pull over - I was in a residential area after all. Then I glanced quickly around the car to see if there was any sort of container I could use but really, I'm not sure what would be suitable in a situation like that. Finally in desperation I made sure no one was coming and I ran the red light, pulled down a side street where there was a woodsy clearing, hopped out and got sick while crouched down behind my car. Yes I know it's not a very attractive visual, but I'm telling a story here. Anyway, I wondered if anyone could see me, but I just didn't care. I noticed a school not far from where I was squatting. Sorry kids.

I dragged myself back into the car and managed to get the rest of the way home before round two hit. Then I put myself to bed for three hours and woke up feeling perfectly fine. It was just the weirdest thing. I'm guessing it was some sort of migraine. I actually get headaches that make me sick once every couple months or so but it usually hits me at night and I can usually pinpoint a trigger. Anyway, I felt just awful and for the record, I never leave work sick. My last sick day was back in December of '03.

But in retrospect, now that I'm feeling better, the idea of me running a red light and stumbling into the woods to throw up strikes me as a little humorous. But I have an even more humorous story about throwing up and here it is.

Years ago, maybe seven or eight to be exact, I had a first date with a guy who took me to a fine drinking establishment where I proceeded to drink seven white russians. The reason for my excess was that I was so nervous. I have a tendency to get horribly nervous on first (or second) dates and find a bit of courage in a bottle. Luckily, since I haven't been on a first date in 8 million years, I haven't exhibited that unfortunate vice recently.

Anyway, after about six white russians we were having a grand time laughing together like old pals and making friends with strangers. It was the seventh white russian that pushed me over the edge. We decided to call it a night and he drove me home. As we were getting closer I started to feel worse and worse. It got to the point where I wasn't even talking because I was afraid to open my mouth. When he pulled up in front of my house (my parents house to be exact because that's where I was still living), I turned to him, said "thanksIhadagreattime", jumped out of the car and practically ran up the front walk and into the house.

In the bathroom which happens to be adjacent to my parents bedroom, I kept knocking things over and making all kinds of noise in addition to the lovely throw up noises. I was thinking "oh my gosh, they are going to know I'm drunk for sure." The next day I casually told my mom, "I'm sorry if I woke you up when I got in last night, I accidentally knocked something over in the bathroom," to which she replied, "no I didn't hear a thing". And then, surprisingly, the guy asked me out for a second date anyway, even though he probably thought I was an alcoholic of some sort.

Now I would like feedback on two things - one, what sort of medical diagnosis would you make about my incident yesterday? It wasn't something I ate - the only thing I had eaten that morning was an odwalla breakfast bar. And secondly, I would really like to hear other people's funny stories about getting sick because misery loves company and I don't want to think I'm the only one who has humorous throw up stories.

2005-07-11T20:43:00.000-04:00

I feel like I haven't written in ages. I don't know if it's because I've been away from the computer since last Thursday or if I just don't feel like boring you with my drama, but regardless, I am still here.

I took a vacation day Friday and for once, actually felt like I had a nice long weekend. Today I was at an all day seminar out of the office. The seminar was about managing time. I am all for skill building and professional development and I truly did find it to be worthwhile. However, I just know that I will have a hard time applying it. It requires discipline and forethought and endless amounts of structure.

When I got home I couldn't get into my apartment. The front stairs had been fixed and were wet with concrete. Our landlord has yet to give us a key to the back door. I stood in the heat with a bag full of 40 pounds worth of brand new daily-planner on my arm and called the landlord on my cell. Because English is not his first language and he has a strong accent and a muddled way of speaking, I have to close my eyes and concentrate in order to understand what he's trying to say.

This time what he was trying to say was he couldn't find a key to our back door but in a little while, it would be o.k. to go in the front. I had to repeat myself a couple of times in order to get across my question, "how can I get in now?" To which he had no answer other than "you will be my house guest." He lives with his very Englishly-challenged family down the street and while they are sweet, I think too much focusing would give me a headache. I give him a lot of credit though. Anyone who is multi-lingual, even just enough to get by, is admirable in my book. I can't imagine that at all, especially when the two languages are so entirely different. I saw some educational program not long ago (why do I feel like I'm always saying that?) about some guy with an amazing brain that learned to speak fluent Icelandic in a week's time.

But I digress. The landlord and his family came by to test if the front steps were dry and managed to explain to me through demonstration how to climb them gingerly. Perhaps if my landlord had managed his time better he could've ensured we had the key to the back door before making the front door inaccessible. It's not like I can just stay home for days. I have to get back to work sometime and start managing my time.

Work has been the only thing to keep me sane lately. But, and maybe this is really paranoid, I always worry that they've gotten along just fine without me there and they will realize they don't need me after all. Does anyone else think that way? Oh well, at least I can manage my time a little better than I could yesterday, and one of my goals was to write something. This has been sort of a rambly post but that epitomizes my relationship with structure so there you go.

2005-07-05T20:30:00.000-04:00

When I was eleven a boy in my class had a crush on me. I knew this because his friend told me and because I would catch him looking at me across the room, and I would see him start to blush when our eyes met. This was all a big deal to me because I was shy and awkward and book-wormish and to the best of my knowledge, had never before been the object of anyone's desire. So after making sure that I could trust his intentions (a couple of weeks went by and he still seemed to like me as fervently as ever) I started to like him back. All of my youthful fantasies were pinned on the upcoming end of the year dance. I expected we would end up dancing and then have a passionate romance of sitting together in the cafeteria and holding hands on the bus, or whatever an eleven year old envisions a passionate romance consisting of.

The day of the dance I looked really good, far exceeding mid-eighties middle school appearance expectations. The important thing was I felt good. However, after a little while of sitting and waiting, it started to slowly dawn on me that he wasn't going to ask me to dance. In fact, it was strange how he kept dancing with another girl in our class. Song after song went by and the boy who supposedly liked ME repeatedly danced with someone else. At one point I even overheard a comment made by one of the other boys about the seemingly happy couple, along the lines of "woo hoo, check them out!"

Finally I approached the boy's friend. "I thought you said he liked me," I said. I was sure there was some logical explanation for this sudden turn of events. "He did, but now he likes her," he replied matter-of-factly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I stood there, watching the boy who was supposed to be my passionate romance, dancing with someone else and I wondered, not for the last time in my life, how boys can be so fickle. One minute they are blushing at you across the classroom and the next, you find your toothbrush in a box of empty promises while they're off chasing after the next shiny thing that happens to catch their eye.

2005-06-30T16:33:00.000-04:00

I've been put in charge of taking pictures of all my coworkers. Actually, I volunteered for the job and the reason we're doing it is to familiarize everyone with everyone else. Long, unnecessary story. The point is, I have become the photographer extraordinaire. And since I don't own a digital camera, this cute little friend who lives in my desk drawer and sucks up batteries like it is starving to death, has become my adopted camera.

I like making appoinments with people for pictures and I like letting them retake as many as they want until they feel like a super model. But then I also enjoy giggling to myself, ever so quietly, when I see how funny some of the pictures look uploaded on my computer. It's interesting to notice how perfectly decent looking people suddenly look uncomfortable and awkward and paste on a fake smile when faced with a camera. Sometimes I'm looking at the little screen and I think the person looks nice. Then I snap the picture and look at it, and it's different somehow. Too bright, too many chins, eyes closed, tooth exposing grimace. I guess when you take all my coworkers together, we're really kind of a funny looking bunch.

Digital cameras are weird because you can look at the picture right after it's taken and then delete it. I have always loved looking at old pictures from the turn of the century when people dressed fancy and stood stiffly, barely smiling. Even if I don't know the subjects, I like to look into their eyes and wonder what they were thinking at that exact moment (probably "hurry up and take this damn picture") and what their lives were like and what their future held. Those kinds of pictures were so amazing because they could freeze an instant in time forever whereas sometimes digital pictures seem a little contrived and less real.

Don't get me wrong, digital cameras are great. I think it's wonderful to be able to see pictures right away and send them by email and post them on websites. Maybe in the far, far distant future the aliens that take over the planet or perhaps the genetically altered clones who can morph into different forms, will look at our digital pictures on our archaic computers and wonder what we were thinking and what our lives were like.

2005-06-27T16:04:00.000-04:00

My poor car is at the mechanic at this very instant. This morning, when I started him, the battery light came on and it went off periodically, but mostly stayed on for the entirety of my journey to work. Coaxing my car gently not to die, "you're a good boy, we'll take you to the doctor, such a good brave boy", I made it to the parking garage. Luckily, my mechanic is right down the street and I trust him one hundred percent.

I told him my list of issues: battery light, possible muffler problem, air conditioning not working, oil change needed, and right hand signal needing to be held in position in order to blink. I told him that whatever he could fix without costing a ton would be great. I'm not made of money after all. I know it's hard to believe considering my highly lucrative position. (I hope you understand that the last sentence was sarcastic and not actually true, although it may be true in some alternate universe).

He called me a little while later to tell me that the alternator needed to be replaced and that was the source of the battery light. That would be upwards of $300. Then he told me that my entire exhaust system was in very bad shape (leaks, holes in the muffler, what have you) and that my air conditioning was beyond repair, so much so that he wouldn't even give me a price estimate on it. He said that between the alternator and the exhaust system, I was looking at approximately $1100 worth of work. I don't have $1100, in fact I can barely afford the $300 alternator work. Luckily, he said I could wait on the exhaust system until my next inspection, or the next time I have $700 to spare (ha). In that sense he said, it's a good thing the air conditioning doesn't work because at least I'll be driving around with the windows rolled down instead of asphyxiating myself with carbon dioxide.

The real question is, is my car even worth $1100? It is a 92 Chevy with over 165,000 miles. The air conditioning is allegedly beyond repair, the tape player long since broke, cruise control hasn't worked since the engine-sieze incident of 2002, the right hand signal isn't working, and I could potentially be asphysxiated by hazardous fumes. I hate to say it about a loyal friend, but it may be time for a new car. Oh, and by "new", I mean used but it would be new to me and hopefully a little newer in general. Late 90's wouldn't be bad and I certainly wouldn't complain about a cd player and a moon roof. I'm envisioning something in the range of $2000 - $3000.

Not that I have any thousand mind you. I spoke to my mom about possibly borrowing from the Bank of Mom and Dad and she said, "what would you do if we weren't here?" Hmmmm, actually, that's a good question - what would I do? I guess the answer is, I would keep sinking money into my car as long as possible, or I would buy one of those really, really cheap used cars that is going to need tons of work down the line anyway, or I would sell myself on the street corner for some quick cash. At that suggestion she said, "well, do that then because we don't have any money either."

Does anyone have any ideas? Either how I can get a reliable yet inexpensive used car or how I can make a quick couple thousand (without resorting to anything illegal or demeaning)? Does anyone out there live in the Boston area and want to give me a good deal on a car? Please?

2005-06-23T17:06:00.000-04:00

Today has been a very bad day. It started this morning when there was major traffic and I ran in with no time to spare for coffee.

Then I had a run in with a really nasty coworker. I don't want to go into too much detail, but let's just say that no matter what you think I did or didn't do? If you've known me in the past to do a good job? Then maybe going right over my head without talking to me about the problem first is a really harsh thing to do. Because you know I can't even imagine doing that to someone. Are we in first grade? Do you need to go tattle to the teacher? Needless to say this guy is a really huge ass and we'll just leave it at that.

Then I had to deal with another character. He always asks for something and instead of leaving me alone to do it, will loom over my desk and sometimes, may even wrestle control of my mouse so that he can, basically, just do it himself. This guy has no respect for the term "personal space". It's so horrifying. But I'd rather deal with a space invader who is friendly then a huge ass.

Can I please go home now?

2005-06-21T16:33:00.000-04:00

When I was small and first started going to kindergarten, we had to walk past the second grade classroom. The outside door always had a gang of hoodlums hanging around. Those second graders were so big. I can remember when 8 years old seemed like a life time of maturity.

One day was particularly special because my dad was picking me up after school and that never happened. I was so excited to see him waving to me from the road that smiling and waving back at him, I tripped and fell right in front of the second grade classroom. My knee was scraped and my laughter became sobbing as my dad ran up to help me. He took care of my scraped knee and didn't let me feel embarrassed about the second graders.

Just last week my dad was helping me install my air conditioner and suddenly he grabbed onto the wrong place and got a nasty cut on his finger. He was startled and bleeding so I poured peroxide over his finger and gave him a bandaid. Luckily he was o.k., but it reminded me of how he took care of me that time I scraped my knee and I saw how for a moment, the roles were reversed. Really, the only difference was that the air conditioner incident didn't involve second graders.

Happy Father's Day to fathers who install air conditioners at the apartments of 29 year old daughters and to fathers who take care of the scraped knees of 5 year old daughters.

2005-06-17T16:31:00.000-04:00

Last night I came home to find that we had no water. Turn on the faucet? Nothing happens. Shower? Nada. Toilet? Just the weakest and most reluctant of flushes. After consultation with roommates one and two, who arrived home shortly thereafter, I left a rather frantic message for the landlord. At least it wasn't 8000 degrees outside and we needed water to drink and moisten our hot (temperature-wise, but also attractiveness-wise) selves with. But still, no shower, no washing dishes, no flushing? This was troublesome.

As the three of us sat around waiting for the landlord to call back, I wondered if the problem was our building or if it was a city problem instead. I suggested calling the Department of Public Works. My roommates enthusiastically agreed. After all, that's logical right? I mean who would you call if water was not coming out of faucets and fixtures?

After explaining our situation to the man who answered the phone at the DPW, I asked, "Do you have any idea why this is going on?" and the man replied, "No ma'am, I don't" and then he paused and asked, "would you like the phone number to contact the Water Department?" Boy did I feel silly. I laughed and said, "oh, there's a Water Department?" and he assured me that "yes, they're a whole different entity." At least he had a sense of humor.

I called the water department and was asked if there was someone in our basement doing work. I said I didn't know and he replied, "you don't know if someone's in your basement??" to which I had to explain that I rent, not own. He then asked, "are there other people in your building?" "Yes", I said, glad that I could answer something. "Do they have water?" a logical question. "Um... they're not home" I answered quickly because I didn't want to say I hadn't asked.

The rest of my story is rather anti-climactic. The guy at the water department said he'd look into it. Fifteen minutes after I hung up the phone our landlord showed up all apologetic. They are renovating the other side and didn't know they could shut off the water only on that side. We thanked him and then ran around turning on faucets and praising the sweet flowing water.

2005-06-14T16:05:00.000-04:00

Summer blues. Let me start with a disclaimer: I love summer. I mean, I LOVE summer. It is my all time favorite season and no matter how hot it gets I will smile and proudly proclaim "I love summer!" because I just love summer that much.

That being said, we had a month of rainy weekends and weeks of unnaturally low temperatures. Up until June I was wearing my winter coat. And suddenly it became summer. There was no transition, it was just suddenly in the 90's with humidity and I was so happy. Of course, I discovered that my bedroom gets extraordinarily hot and stuffy and it's hard to even lie still without sweating. But there is always the ice cream place two blocks away when I need some relief.

My parents felt so bad for me, they bought me an air conditioner. My dad installed it for me last night and now it's bolted to my window, the only window in my bedroom. We all know I have mixed feelings about air conditioning. If it's summer, I want it to feel like it. I love opening the window at night and feeling the fresh air breeze in. That won't be happening now though. But mostly I'm thankful because it's been awfully uncomfortable. What did they do before air conditioning was invented? I think it's rather humorous that you buy one because it's so hot but then you have to go through a huge process to install it, during which time, you become unfathomably hot. I warned my dad that my room felt like a furnace and perhaps the seventh circle of hell, but he bravely came and installed my new air conditioner anyway.

Sunday I went to the beach and did something stupid. I didn't use sunblock. It was late in the day and overcast and I just didn't think. I am now as red as a freshly cooked lobster and the pain. Oh, the pain. I have been applying aloe every two hours. I have been making little pouty faces and saying "ouch" a lot. I have been thanking my Italian heritage that at least my skin is a little more resiliant than my English heritage alone would provide. Someone at work said, "got some sun, huh?" Gee, what tipped you off? The economy-sized bottle of aloe on my desk or the fact that my skin is glowing like a neon sign?

But I love summer. Yes I do, I love it. Woo hoo, summer.

2005-06-10T17:03:00.000-04:00

For at least a year I've been recieving email updates from a local group for professionals who are in their 20's and 30's. I don't even know how I first heard about the group, but the emails include lists of events that you can participate in and some of them sound really fun. They do all kinds of things from horseback riding to wine tasting to after work drinks in the down town area (business casual dress preferred). I have always wanted to go to an event but always feel wary of going alone and not too thrilled about trying to get into the city at rush hour on a weekday in order to attend.

Last night I finally went to my first event and it was a blast. It was outside the city and I brought a friend. The event was a girls' night jewelry making class at a very cute studio/crafts store. Wine and cheese and crackers were provided, as well as a kit to make a piece of jewelry. I made a necklace that looks like something I could've bought at a store. It was actually pretty easy although the pieces we were working with were small and stubborn. Of course, I now want to make tons more and am planning a trip back to buy the materials.

My friend and I sat at a table with other friendly girls and by the end of the night we were exchanging business cards. Today I already got an email from someone we met. So, all in all, I discovered an enjoyable new hobby, made some potential new friends, ate a lot of cheese, and made a pretty necklace. A good time was had by all.

Not everything was picture perfect however. There was one weird girl sitting at our table who my friend and I encountered later while we were eating dinner at a nearby burrito place. The girl sat down with us, asked for a chip, and then proceeded to single handedly finish off our chips and guacamole while making us listen to every detail of her troubled relationship. So you know, I guess you can't have everything.

2005-06-08T17:02:00.000-04:00

Shanna recently tagged me for a meme about books. Probably because my reputation as a book-lover is widely known. So, without further ado, here are my answers:

You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to save?
I'm going to save The Complete Adventures of Curious George (is that cheating because it includes multiple stories?) Anyway, I'm saving George because... do I really have to explain? Is it possible NOT to love that monkey?

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Sorry to be so boring but... no. Not from a book anyway. I get crushes on characters from TV all the time but that's a story for a different meme.

The last book you bought is:
I don't buy many fiction books because my mom works at the library. I've got connections. I do buy plenty of nonfiction books about topics I am interested in. Most recently it was About Time by Paul Davies although I have a feeling it's going to scare the heck out of me while fascinating me all at the same time.

The last book you read is:
The last book I read for bookclub was Founding Mothers by Cokie Roberts. It was super interesting subject matter, but kind of tough to get through. I also finished Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco just the other night, and I could probably apply the above sentence to this book as well. I spent the whole book being enthralled by the topic and half clueless about the plot.

What are you currently reading?
I usually have three books going at once but since I just finished two (see above), I am currently reading only one. It is The Midnight Club by James Patterson. It's enjoyable and easy reading, but not as edge-of-your-seat as some of his other stuff.

As always, I am open to book recommendations, so feel free to suggest something to me and maybe you'll read my thoughts on it in a later entry! I am now going to tag three people. The lucky readers are... Cindy, Lainey, and Sassy because I'm interested in what their answers will be!

2005-06-06T17:18:00.000-04:00

Because I do the travel arrangements at my company, I was the recipient of many urgent phone calls today about cancelled flights. The reason for all of these cancellations? Weather. Atlanta was bad, Memphis was bad, New York apparently had thunderstorms and everything was cancelled.

Now, ironically, though I am the travel arranger, I don't travel much myself. I have flown twice ever. So I don't know much about flights getting cancelled due to weather. Can't planes still fly through a thunderstorm? How can a little rain wreak so much havoc for travelers everywhere (and consequently, make my life more difficult)?

My other question about flying is this. I know of a good deal of people who are afraid to fly, but do it anyway. I don't know what makes some people afraid of something but still able to do that thing. If I am afraid of something I avoid it like the plague. I am afraid to fly so I don't do it. I probably could do it if I had to and if I had some sort of sedative, but generally, I don't like the idea. I'm not so worried about crashing, although I'm sure that would be unpleasant. I have issues with being stuck up there, unable to get off the plane. It's a claustraphobia-control thing. So my question for you is - do you enjoy flying or are you afraid, and if you are afraid, do you fly anyway and if you do, how do you make yourself do it?

2005-06-02T17:06:00.000-04:00

Wow, reading over my last post, I sounded a bit drunk. I assure you I wasn't. And now, an actual true story.

Over the weekend I bought these cute new shoes. They looked like this but were less expensive.

Yesterday I took them out of the box and put them on. I noticed they had a leathery new-shoe smell which reminded me of the shoe store I bought them at. I didn't give it much thought beyond that and the fact that they were so cute.

Sitting at my desk at work, I could still smell them. That morning a coworker came by and said "I smell a camp fire." I said, "Could it be my shoes?" and I held up a foot. "Oh, it is!" she confirmed, but told me they were cute shoes. As we were discussing them, another coworker walked by and said, "it smells like burning rubber in here." We thought it was pretty funny.

Later, during my staff meeting, someone said, "do you smell smoke?" and someone else agreed. Sheepishly I said, "um, I think it might be my shoes." We determined that it was and we all had a good laugh though everyone thought the shoes were very cute.

During the afternoon a coworker dropped by and said, "I smell turkey". At this point I was feeling less amused and more embarrassed about the whole thing. "For goodness sakes, it's just my shoes," I explained. After all, at least it wasn't the smell of dirty gym shoes or something. It was new-shoe smell. That coworker also complimented the cuteness of the shoes.

Finally, toward the very end of the day, a coworker came by my desk and started looking around and sniffing. Before he could say a word I said, "it's my shoes." He said it wasn't an altogether unpleasant smell, just strange. As I was leaving my boss asked, "um, will you be wearing those shoes again tomorrow?"

I'm kind of nervous to wear the shoes again. But they're so darn cute. How can I get rid of that smell? The smell was described as smoke, campfire, burning rubber, and turkey. Turkey? I should have used the whole experience as an experiment to see what people imagine they smell when presented with an odd, unexpected smell. Henceforth, those shoes shall be known as my turkey shoes.

2005-05-31T17:08:00.000-04:00

I'd like to post something, but I'm so very sleepy so I will just ramble on about the things floating through my head.

I had such a wonderful and relaxing long weekend. And then last night I couldn't sleep. I was too hot and then a headache woke me up at 2 am. Then I was too hot and in too much pain. So I turned on the tv and started to channel surf. I found a show on the science channel about how the brain works. It was a good choice up until they started talking about when things go wrong and for an example a woman started explaining how for quite a while she thought that an 8 foot long black spider was telling her what to do. That didn't help me feel relaxed or any less ill.

Good things about today: a new lunch place came in with menus to promote their business and they brought me a free lunch. I'm all about free food.

Also, a girl who works at a company upstairs but sells make-up on the side came down to deliver my latest make-up order. I'm all about make-up.

I'm not all about spiders telling people what to do.

I've been tagged for another meme but I figured I owed it to the tagger not to write some lame half assed response. Pardon me for being lame and half assed today.

2005-05-27T16:37:00.000-04:00

Last night a friend suggested we go to a Mexican place I'd never tried before. She said it was very good and very "traditional". As everyone knows, I am a Mexican food connoisseur, so I was excited to try a new place.

As we perused the menu, my friend said, "the chicken tacos and the pork tacos are both really good". I was perplexed because there were no vegetarian offerings which I tend to prefer. If I could commit to anything, I would become a vegetarian but because I'm highly non-committal, I decided to give the pork tacos a try.

The types of tacos were as follows: steak, chicken, pork, and tounge. There was "tounge" just listed along side the other choices as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "yes, I'd like to order the tounge tacos please." "Hmmm... such a tough choice. Could I get a chicken taco and a tounge taco please?" "Boy, am I glad we came here because they have my favorite, tounge tacos." It just didn't seem right. My friend assured me, "well they're very traditional here." Correct me if I'm wrong but I didn't think tounge was a traditional Mexican dish. In fact, I can't picture a Mexican family sitting around for a fiesta, table full of jalapenos and corn tortillas and a big bowl full of medium-well tounge.

My pork tacos came out and I noticed the pork was very reddish in color, much like the pork at Chinese restaurants. For a minute I thought they might have mistaken my order and brought me tounge by accident. Or maybe no one ever orders the tounge so they have to slip it in. I tasted the taco and it was really good. Imagine if just then the waitress came back and said, "oh I'm sorry, you'd didn't order tounge did you? Let me just send these back."

2005-05-25T16:37:00.000-04:00

I just finished reading "Surviving Saturn's Return". The fact is, it takes Saturn exactly 29 and a half years to complete one rotation around the sun. Therefore, when you are 29 and a half (or thereabouts) Saturn is in the same spot that it was in when you were born. This means big changes.

I found the book in a new age book store where I specifically asked if they had anything about Saturn's return and was immediately reassured by the kindly saleswoman, "oh yes, that's a big deal." I started the book and felt as though it was speaking to me personally. There was all this stuff about tumultuous upheaval in the form of moves, break ups, career calamity, life decisions, etc.

Then it got a little more specific by saying which sign Saturn was in during different dates (Leo for the day I was born) and then describing the life lesson associated with that sign. It made a whole lot of sense. It would seem that my Saturn lesson is about creativity and learning to know and love myself. As I look back over the last couple years (supposedly anytime during your late 20's can count as the time of your Saturn return) I can see that being true. A lot of what I read was meaningful to me.

However, here's my problem with the whole thing. Saturn stays in each sign for about two years so that means that every person who was born in the same two year period as me is experiencing dramatic changes regarding embracing who they are and who they are becoming? That describes just about everyone I know. Also? I am the one out of my same-aged peers who is still unmarried, without kids, wandering aimlessly through life without career ambition or purposeful direction. Except for my one good friend who is pretty much in the same boat and we have the exact same birthday so that at least makes sense. All my other friends who are my age seem to have it all figured out. How can we all be facing the same issues at the same time?

I love astrology but there are some loopholes. I once knew two girls who were identical twins born only minutes apart and they were like night and day. How could only a few minutes make such an extreme difference in terms of the cosmos?

On an astrological side note, several years ago I knew a guy who was 29 years old (saturn return), born in the sign of Capricorn (ruled by Saturn), drove a Saturn, and loved to play video games on his Sega Saturn. Weird.

2005-05-23T16:57:00.000-04:00

Let's say your company received a piece of mail in the daily delivery that was addressed to someone you'd never heard of, but looked important. Let's say that instead of just tossing it into the trash along with the usual junk mail and mail for former employees, you thought "gosh, this looks important". And then let's say that you took a red pen and wrote on it "return to sender, not at this address" in large letters and then you circled the return address and drew a big arrow pointing to it and with the same red pen, drew a huge "X" over the intended recipient's faulty address. Let's say you did all this and then put the mail back into the outgoing bin only to find the very same piece of mail returned to you again in the daily delivery of incoming mail a few days later. What would you surmise about the US Postal Service? Something unkind, I'll tell you that.

Sorry, that's all I've got right now. This unending rainy, 40 degree weather is draining my will to write. I'm serious - it's been cold and rainy for days and at least the past 5 weekends. Don't believe me?

2005-05-19T15:21:00.000-04:00

I got six inches of my hair cut off on Saturday. Six inches! And it's still generously past my shoulders. I like it like this but I will be letting it grow long again. I just needed a change.

After my haircut, I also got my eyebrows done. The lady doing them was chatting with me and she asked where I was from and I told her that I grew up in the town we were in but that I now lived in my new town. I told her my mom and sister come to that salon often because they still live in the town. Then I was randomly babbling and said how I had just moved into my apartment a month ago. She asked if I had roommates and I said yes. Then she asked how I liked living on my own. "Oh, I love it!" I replied.

Then I lay there wondering why she asked me that. I had just told her I had roommates so she wasn't asking how I liked living alone... on my own...what did she mean? Why would you ask an adult who has lived in various apartments for the past five and a half years how she liked living on her own? And then I realized what she meant. If the realization had been a dog, it would've bit me. She interpreted the fact that I look like really young and the fact that I said how my parents still lived there and I just moved into my apartment a month ago, to mean that I just moved out of my parents' house for the first time!

Honestly, this is the kind of craziness I have to deal with. It is nice to look young but it is really frustrating having people take me less seriously at work or talk down to me like I'm just a kid fresh out of college or worse, to have people recoil in shock when I tell them I'm 29. Sometimes they even argue with me, "You are not!" Yes, I really am. Do you need to see my id now?

The funny thing is, I still feel young too. When someone is say, 30 or 32, I still think they are much older than I am. I have to remind myself they are only a little older. I also expect people to be older based on certain clues. One of the realtors who showed us apartments dressed very professionally and talked about her husband and the house they owned. She was pretty and sophisticated and married with a professional "career". She asked us how old we were and then when we asked her she said "guess". (Side note, why the heck do people say that? When people ask me I simply say, "I'm a lot older than you think I am" and then I tell them.) I thought this realtor had to have been older than me so I thought about how old I was and then added a smidge. "Um... 30?" I asked thinking she was probably more like 31 or 32 and she would feel complimented. She was 23 and she was insulted. The fact that she was insulted by 30 made me feel insulted. All of this insult could've been averted if she had simply told me her age.

2005-05-17T16:16:00.000-04:00

The other night in the bathroom I encountered a bug that makes spiders seem like cuddly puppies. And you know how I feel about spiders. I am going to post a link to what the bug looks like but I want to warn you that the picture is quite graphic. People who are sensitive to the sight of grotesque bugs should proceed at their own risk. Here is the visiting arthropod. I warned you.

I was about to take a shower and I pulled back the curtain to see one of those bad boys sitting in the tub. His body was an inch long but add the legs to that and we're talking a serious problem. I was frozen in fear for a good two minutes while my brain tried to process the situation. Of course no one else was home so I had to deal with it myself. I recently was gifted by my parents a sort of "bug vacuum" which has a long clear tube and looks somewhat like a light saber. You push the button and the offending bug gets sucked into the tube. Of course, then you have to take him someplace and let him out again. I have tried this once so far with a spider and even though there was a thick piece of plastic between him and I, it still felt a little too close for my comfort.

I couldn't bring myself to use the bug vacuum on our multi-legged friend. For one thing, I don't think he would've even fit into the tube without contorting in some horrific way. I opted instead to try drowning him. I turned the shower on until he stopped moving. Then I turned it off, went in the kitchen and made a cup of tea. When I returned to the bathroom I found him crawling around once again. I turned the shower on again and he slid toward the drain (not actually into the drain - he wouldn't fit). Then I ran the water for several minutes directly onto him while loudly muttering "why won't you die?" Doesn't this sound like a gruesome scene from a horror movie?

When the beast was sufficiently waterlogged, I turned the shower off and went about my business. One roommate finally arrived home, but she is just as squeamish as I am. I showed her the result of the carnage and she had to turn away. When our other roommate, the calm environmental loving scientist came home, we assaulted her. The first roommate explained that she had periodically been checking to make sure the bug was still there and he had been twitching. Apparently he had a profound will to live. We dragged my other roommate into the bathroom and gasped to find the bug missing. This cannot be good news for future showers.

My scientific roommate explained that centipedes do not come up from the drain (as I previously thought) but fall into the tub and are unable to get out. The ones people see are the ones that have had the misfortune of falling into the tub... but there are ones people don't see because they RUN REALLY FAST. If that isn't the best news I've heard lately I don't know what is. Yikes!

I don't know why my new apartment is like the nature channel, but it did give me a good idea for a reality show. Instead of making people eat bugs like that (ewwwww, go ahead, take another good look at that picture and then tell me how much I would have to pay you to eat one of those), how about getting bug-phobic people to live in a bug infested apartment for one month. Can you envision the drama?

My nature-loving roommate reminded me that I am bigger and smarter than any bug. But maybe that's the problem isn't it? I mean if the bug had more intelligence and I encountered it as I did, maybe it would say, "Why hello Katie, I was just hanging out here in your bathtub. Sorry if I startled you. Oh were you thinking of taking a shower? Pardon me, let me just get right out of your way" and I would reply, "no please, after you" and there would be harmony throughout the animal kingdom.

2005-05-13T16:02:00.000-04:00

So here's something weird: I forgot to set my alarm last night but I woke up right on time. What a difference it makes to have a regular sleep schedule and to stick to it. I may not want to do it every day, but I am gaining confidence in my inner clock.

Have you ever sat at a red light for so long that your mind starts to wander and you forget why you're there in the first place? That happens to me a lot on my new route to work. There are a lot of long lights. All of a sudden traffic will start moving again after being stopped since the dawn of time, and I'll think "Where am I? Where am I going? Why am I here?" Yes, the drive to work can be a great chance for some existential reflection.

And speaking of existential reflection, as I was driving, that Alanis Morissette song, "you oughta know" came on the radio. I started thinking about how great that song was when it first came out and how I recently read someplace that the song was written about Alanis' old boyfriend, Dave Coulier and that really just ruined it for me. I don't want to here Alanis singing about going down in a theater and scratching her nails down the back of the goofy guy who did Bullwinkle impressions on Full House. I wish she had never let out that piece of information. On the other hand, look at Carly Simon - she still hasn't told us who "You're So Vain" is about* and you know why? It's because we really don't want to picture Dave Coulier** when we're listening to an angry-girl-ballad about sex and intrigue and indiscretion.

*Spookily enough, I was engaged in this comparison between the two songs when "You're So Vain" came on the radio. As in - I was thinking about it before it came on. Is it possible that I made that happen?

**No offense is intended to Dave Coulier. I enjoyed many an episode of Full House during the 80's and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

2005-05-11T17:11:00.000-04:00

Over the weekend an MIT student hosted a time traveler party. You can read about it here but the gist of it is that he put invitations in places that people from the future might find, including the coordinates for locating MIT, just in case. If the people in the future got the invites and were able to travel back in time, they were welcome as long as they could bring proof that they were from the future - in other words, a cure for AIDS, a nuclear cold fission reactor, or something similar.

I wanted to go to the party so bad because it was close by, and they were having lectures about physics (I know, that sounds like a heck of a party, doesn't it?) Unfortunately due to the huge amount of present time attendees, they weren't allowing anyone else from the present to go.

As it turned out, there was no one who admitted to being from the future at the party. But there's still time isn't there? Maybe more invitations can be planted in other places and people from the future will still have a chance to go. After all it is relative. Some people believe that no futuristic folks showed up because time-travel is not possible. I have to wonder, what if they simply didn't get the invitations? What if by the time time-travel is invented any form of invitation that was "sent" has long since ceased to exist? How would you go about sending a message to the future anyway?

My roommate's theory was that no one showed up because they couldn't prove they were from the future. She said, "if I was a regular citizen from the future, what are the chances I could get my hands on the cure for AIDS and bring it along to the party in a little glass vial?" Indeed. Another good point is, what if the people from the future knew about the party, and were able to travel back in time, and were able to prove it, but didn't want to change the future by changing the past? Hello?

This is all very complicated but one thing is for certain: MIT is so cool! Maybe someday I will travel back in time and go to school there.

2005-05-09T16:02:00.000-04:00

I think of him at odd, unexpected moments. Reaching for a paper towel in the kitchen, turning the key in the lock as I'm leaving, drinking wine in a crowded room and suddenly feeling melancholy and alone. Honestly these are not the moments you might assume like eating at the salsa bar or driving by the museum every day or realizing I'm wearing his old sweatshirt. It's the day to day, while doing simple things, when suddenly it hits me in a flash and I feel like I want to cry. I've long since mourned the distant past and I'm o.k. with that. I'm o.k. with this.

But I miss the daily chats and the inside jokes and the silly things that no one else would understand. I didn't think I was the only one our friendship meant something to but the days pass and we don't speak and I'm not sure why. I hate how he's slipping away from me and I hate how I pick up the phone when I want to share something and it just rings and rings forever. Three years is a long time to be so insignificant. Mostly I hate how most of the time I am perfectly fine and barely give any of it a passing thought, like it doesn't matter and I am forgetting.

2005-05-05T17:17:00.000-04:00

It seems I've been tagged! Thanks Cindy! O.K., I need to pick 5 items from the list (at the end of the post) and finish the sentence with what I would do in that scenario. I can't pick things I already am so I guess that rules out world-famous-blogger right?

If I could be a farmer... I would grow healthy nutritious food that was specially formulated with herbal supplements and vitamin goodness and would also taste delicious. My food would heal the sick and end world hunger.

If I could be a painter... I would fill rooms with my fabulous paintings. They would be full of color and people would be happy just looking at them. And all the animals and people I painted would be smiling.

If I could be an athlete... I would participate in every possible competition for every possible sport. I would swim, run, pole vault, and maybe even get a sneaker named after me. It would be purple.

If I could be a writer... I would write my thoughts and opinions on all possible subjects and people would buy my books just to see what I had to say because people will buy anything. (Chapter 1: People Will Buy Anything)

If I could be a llama rider... I would ride my llama all over town and save money and energy by not using my car. Also, I would take my llama to the dentist just like I remember seeing once on an episode of Sesame Street when a girl had a pet llama who she took to the dentist. They even rode the bus and everything. Because hey, oral hygiene is important. My llama's name would be Billy.

Now I get to tag three of you lucky readers and you get to pick 5 items from the list. I am tagging Pinky, Flavia, and Martziotta!

And here is The List:

If I could be a scientist…
If I could be a farmer…
If I could be a musician…
If I could be a doctor…
If I could be a painter…
If I could be a gardener…
If I could be a missionary…
If I could be a chef…
If I could be an architect…
If I could be a linguist…
If I could be a psychologist…
If I could be a librarian…
If I could be an athlete…
If I could be a lawyer…
If I could be an inn-keeper…
If I could be a professor…
If I could be a writer…
If I could be a llama-rider…
If I could be a bonnie pirate…
If I could be an astronaut…
If I could be a world famous blogger…
If I could be a justice on any one court in the world…
If I could be married to any current famous political figure…

2005-05-03T16:30:00.000-04:00

Want to hear something scary? O.K., it's not spider-in-the-bedroom scary, but it's mildly disturbing anyway. When I got home yesterday there was a piece of mail for me on the table. It was hand-addressed to my last apartment with a post office sticker on it indicating my new address. The return address was simply a first initial, last name, and the city and state.

I opened the envelope to find one of my old pay stubs! Although I usually hang onto them, I must have thrown one away during my move and the trash bag broke or desperate people dug through it for recyclables (it happened all the time in that neighborhood) and the next thing you know, papers were probably blowing down the street all willy nilly.

This is upsetting because that pay stub (although not a "live" check) has all kinds of information on it: my salary, my place of employment, my social security number... and if that got out into the world somehow, what else is blowing around in the back alleys of my old neighborhood? Grocery lists? Receipts? Journal entries? Yikes. What an icky feeling to think of my personal life being spewed onto the streets like so much trash.

The benevolent sender did not include a note, but I am grateful that they took the time to return my pay stub. I joked to my mom that first they probably copied down all of my information. Then I got serious and asked her, "Mom, is someone going to steal my identity?" And with the sad state of my financial situation in mind, my mother replied "well good luck to them if they do!"

2005-04-28T16:29:00.000-04:00

I'm really exhausted today. It's been a long week. You'll have to excuse me therefore, if I take this opportunity to throw a question-post out to the audience.

The other night, my roommate said something was "the bee's knees" which had me laughing hysterically and had my other roommate who is from Switzerland, staring at her confused. That made it even funnier and we had to explain to her that it's an old expression that doesn't make a lot of sense - I even drew a picture of a bee (smiling widely, as most of my drawn creatures are - apparently my brother got the designated art gene in the family) with legs bent in the middle and a little arrow pointing to his knees. Imagine being able to speak a language really well, but not understanding every phrase and nuance, and then having someone throw a curveball like "bee's knees" at you. I mean, bees don't even have knees. It got me thinking so here's my question. What other expressions can you think of that are funny in English and would baffle a non-native English speaker?

2005-04-26T17:05:00.000-04:00

Do you ever, just for fun, imagine what your own personal episode of Fear Factor would be like? Mine looks like this - eating sheep's eyeballs, riding a broken down elevator, being chased by faceless ghosts, and... oh yes, spiders in my bedroom. So now my cozy, comfortable new bedroom, with it's peach painted walls, flannel sheets, and cable television, has gone from a safe haven to my own personal fear factor. No, there are no ghosts or sheep's eyeballs. Guess again.

Saturday morning at 7:30 something outside woke me from a sound sleep. I lazily rolled over and glimpsed something on the ceiling right above my head. It was a spider. Keep in mind that my ceiling (at least where my bed is) is one of those slanty ceilings. It meets the wall about 6 inches from the head of my bed. So when I say there was a spider on the ceiling right above my head, what I really mean is that there was a furry, brown spider about a foot above my face first thing in the morning.

I leapt out of bed and introduced the spider to a wad of tissues. Normally I am far too squeamish to squish them myself, but no one else was awake, so this was one of those survival instinct, adrenaline kicking in kind of situations. It was creepy, but hey, it happens. Not in my old apartment where I never once saw a spider, but it does happen.

The next afternoon I was talking to my roommate in the upstairs hall and caught site of a spider on the bathroom door. I have radar for spiders. She got him but seeing two spiders in two days did not bode well. That night, I fell asleep reading with the light on at about 10:30. I woke up around midnight, got up to go to the bathroom, noticed my roommate's light was still on, and went back to my room. I was just about to crawl back into bed when what did I see? Yep, a spider. Right where the sloped ceiling meets the wall, a mere inches from where my head had been seconds before. I knocked on my roommate's door and she got him for me, noting he was the same type from the bathroom door.

After a sleepless night of tossing, turning, and periodically bolting out of a sound sleep to turn the light on and do a spider check, I did some research online. It seems that getting rid of spiders requires vacuuming and using household cleanser which, because they have tastebuds on the bottoms of their feet, they will avoid walking on because they don't like the taste. I have learned more about spiders in the last couple of days than I could ever hope to know. And I'm no more fond of them than I was before. My roommate suspects there are eggs hatching somewhere, a thought that sends chills up and down my spine.

When I got home yesterday I was talking to my dad on the phone and he happened to mention that he had noticed a rather large crack above the window near my bed when he was hanging curtains. He said it was not huge, but large enough for spiders to come out of. That information was very useful in planning my attack (spraying Raid into the crack, vacuuming, using the cleanser, and plugging in a thing I got that sends a high pitched noise that repels spiders among other things).

I realize that like all fears, the problem lies in feeling powerless. I know the fear is a learned response because as a kid I can remember closely examining spiders building webs and feeling no disgust whatsoever. I'm not sure what happened but now spiders are to me, the equivalent of evil incarnate. I keep reminding myself there are worse things to invade my bedroom. Cockroaches for example. Bats. Sharks. But if I told you I slept calmly without being on spider watch or having spider nightmares, I'd be lying. The spiders I saw were just a little too close to my head than I'm comfortable with. What are you afraid of and how do you face your fears?

2005-04-22T16:05:00.000-04:00

Though my rent is a little cheaper, if I keep taking walks in my new city, I'm not really going to save anything. Here is a list of things I have spent money on so far just taking walks up two blocks to the busy area:

1. mocha latte
2. cd (well, this was not purchased on a walk, but was inspired by hearing it in the coffee shop and being unable to read my book because the music was so compelling and having to ask an employee what cd was playing)
3. a "walking satchel" at the Gap. Walking satchel is my name for it because I wanted a bag I could fit a book and my wallet and cell phone in for my walks
4. shoes - Payless for $5 a pair
5. groceries - at the organic grocery, yay!
6. household items - dustpan and broom, potholders, Venus razor
7. Mexican food - two separate meals on two separate occasions
8. one scoop of ice cream in a cup (flavor: cake batter!!)
9. t-shirts at the Gap
10. tall white chocolate latte at Starbucks
11. berry smoothie (at deli counter of organic grocery)

I think that's everything but I've only been there a week, give me some time!

Anyway, I'm really enjoying living in "the big city". I've been taking a lot of walks up the main street where there is a subway stop, lots of bars and stores, and tons of people at all times. I wouldn't walk around at night by myself but I find the atmostphere to be very laid back during the day. People don't seem to pay much attention to each other and people feel free to express their individuality and diversity. Everyone I have interacted with has been friendly. One day I was crossing the street and I sneezed. "Bless you" said a guy as he passed, crossing the street in the other direction. "Thanks" I replied. The whole interaction took place as we were walking, neither one of us stopping, just some courtesy in passing.

2005-04-19T10:07:00.000-04:00

The move itself was stressful, as all moves probably are. I managed to get most of my stuff packed but I still have a lot to deal with at the old place. It's amazing how you don't even realize how much you have until you try to move.

The movers showed up right on time but spoke with a thick, barely understandable accent. The guy in charge (an older guy, at least 50) was extremely touchy and it was pretty horrifying. I feel like maybe it was a cultural thing, or maybe he was being fatherly rather than molesterly, but it was annoying all the same. He kept putting his arm around me or grabbing my hand and standing too close to talk. I wanted to scream "For the love of god stop touching me!" but I couldn't exactly hire different movers at that point. I feel like I spent most of the day dodging his attempts at affection and that made the stress even worse. Additionally, he kept asking things like, "how old are you?" "are you married?" "do you like to go dancing?" And between the unexpected personal nature of his questions and the frustratingly difficult to understand accent, I didn't know what to do or how to react.

Thank goodness my mom met me at the new place. He immediately seemed a lot more respectful. Until they couldn't get my box spring up the stairs and tried to saw it with my roommate's new bread knife. (It never would've occured to me either - if you saw some of the wood inside a box spring, you can fold it in half and unfold it later. I'm living proof that it works.) I kept asking them to stop using the bread knife but no one was listening to me. Finally my mother went over and pried it out of a young mover's hand. He then asked my mom if she had a saw as though she carries one around in her back pocket. (Luckily she told them to forget about it and my dad brought his tools over the next day to finish the destruction).

All in all the movers worked quickly - the whole thing only took about 2 and a half hours. And the price was right. But I wouldn't hire them again. Do I contact the customer service person I set the move up with? She seemed nice and professional. But how do you tell someone that their movers are a little too... familiar?

2005-04-13T16:35:00.000-04:00

It's normal to have mixed feelings about something big changing, right? It is just now hitting me that I am really moving on Friday. Of course I'm excited, but I'm also feeling sad. I've lived in my current place for three years and I've been in close proximity to people who are important to me. (It is now that I hear my mother's voice in my head saying, "Katie, it's not like you're moving to darkest Africa". She used to say that same phrase whenever I was panicking over a trip and what I might forget to pack. She would say, "it's not like you're going to darkest Africa, you can buy a toothbrush if you need to" or "I'm sure they have stores there, you're not going to be in darkest Africa for goodness sakes.")

I've given away half my wardrobe. I am sloughing things off like pieces of myself. Cleaning house, starting fresh. And I'm trying not to think about what I'm leaving behind. It's the end of something, that's for sure. But it is a moving on toward something else. I'm discarding books, candles, little pieces of dead weight that I don't feel like dragging around for the rest of my life. I am saying goodbye in more ways than one. Streamlining. But it is sad. It is hard to let go of things that meant something to me and things that mean something to me still. Some things can't be replaced, even though I'm not going to darkest Africa.

2005-04-11T16:40:00.000-04:00

Can I just reiterate again how much I love craigslist? Seriously, everyone go on over and check it out - you have to click on your respective city, but then you're good to go. Need an apartment? No problem. Trying to find roommates? No problem. Seeking to buy something? Or sell something? Craigslist will hook you up. Looking for love perhaps? They've got that too. (Disclaimer: I have never tried to find love on craigslist. I'm sure it's just as great as everything else they have.) You can even look for a job! (Disclaimer #2: I have never tried to find a job on craigslist. I am not looking for one at this time.)

Anyway, my roommate has this pink couch. It's a perfectly respectable couch, but neither of us want it anymore for our new residences. My roommate asked if I would have my movers carry it out to the curb for the trash when they come to move my furniture. I had other plans.

I posted a picture of the couch on craigslist and I asked $50 for it. I got more than 20 emails from people wanting to buy the couch. My roommate was impressed considering she didn't realize what a hidden jewel it really was. Fifty bucks? I thought I was aiming high - I should've aimed higher.

So this one woman was interested in getting it and I said "possibly tonight or Thursday night" - that was last week for those following along at home. The next day I had an email from her claiming she waited around all night for me to call and she had even rented a truck. Oooookkkkaaaaaayyyy... I think I said "maybe" but whatever. I wrote back saying we must've gotten our signals crossed and would Thursday night work? At this point it was Wednesday. She wrote back Thursday morning saying she waited around again for my call and that she finally had to return the truck because she couldn't afford it.

Suspecting I was dealing with someone slightly... unstable, I asked my roommate to be home with me when the woman came on Thursday - this time I sent her the pertinant info and set a definate time. But she never showed up and never called me! The funny part is that if she thought somehow that I cared, she's sadly mistaken. Hello? Twenty people were interested - why do I care if she decides to play silly games?

Then I got a message from her Saturday morning asking if she could pick up the couch over the weekend. Um, I don't think so! Yes, I do love craigslist, but you have to watch out for the crazies.

2005-04-06T16:03:00.000-04:00

If you recieved a call on your cell phone from a number you did not recognize and the person did not leave a message, would you assume someone had called you accidentally and just forget about it or would you call the number back? I can't tell you how many times people call my company and when I answer they say, "yeah, um, this is Joe, did you just call me?" No, I did not call you Joe. In fact, there are over a hundred people in this office so any one of them could have called you by accident or on purpose and you would automatically come back through me if you called the number on your cell phone.

Today some guy called twice. Once I explained the situation to him and he hung up. A few minutes later he called back and asked if I was sure there wasn't any way I could find out who tried to call him. I told him that unless I individually asked each one of the hundred or so people in the office then there was no way to tell. I reiterated that if they wanted to speak to him, I was sure they would've left a message. He still seemed somewhat unsure.

What the heck? Are people truly that desperate for human contact? You see a strange number on your cell phone and the not-knowing is just eating away at you. You can't sleep, you're tossing and turning because you must know. Who tried to call? Why oh why didn't you just answer your cell phone? Now you have to live with knowing you may never know the nature of the missed call. Who was it, what did they want? Oh the suspense!

And speaking of cell phones, I have another question. Do you or people you know use cell phones only and have no actual land line in your apartment or home? I think that is the weirdest thing. So many people that I've talked to while looking for apartments/roommates say that there is no land line, they just use their cells. I feel like I'm old fashioned, but I just don't trust my cell phone. What if the battery dies? What if there is no reception? What if clutching the phone to your ear for long periods of time really does cause cancer? I still have both - a cell and a land line and I like it that way. I'm going to have my own private land line in my new apartment and I love it.

My mom asked, won't the other roommates be using the land line when they log onto the computer? Well of course not - we're getting DSL! I don't even know what DSL is - I've always used dial up. Apparently I've been living in the 1800's.

2005-04-04T16:11:00.000-04:00

Last Friday (April Fools Day), my boss was leaving the office with a whoopee cushion in hand. She explained that she thought her kids would get a laugh out of it and so of course, I had to tell her my famous whoopee cushion story.

When I was in Junior High, I had a wonderful history teacher who made the kids laugh and threw candy at us when we answered questions correctly. One memorable day we played a game much like Truth or Dare. The teacher would ask someone a question related to history. If the person got it right, they were safe. If they got the question wrong however, they had to do a "dare" which wasn't really a dare because I don't think we had much choice in the matter. Some of the dares were embarrassing and all were funny. One kid had to ride a tricycle around the room, one had to compose a poem about the girl sitting next to him, etc. Those are the just the ones that stand out in my mind, but practically everyone got the questions wrong.

When my turn rolled around I was hoping to get it right but of course I didn't. For my "dare" the teacher gave me a whoopee cushion and told me that I had to put it on the science teacher's chair. All of the kids in my history class were also in my science class so everyone was in on the joke.

The next day before science class, a couple of us covertly hid the whoopee cushion on the science teacher's chair, under the regular cushion. It couldn't have been more perfect. The science teacher walked in with the strict, stern English teacher who had forgotten to give us a homework assignment. As she stood in front of the class explaining the assignment in a serious manner, the science teacher sat down and of course, a loud sound emanated from the whoopee cushion at just the right moment.

The English teacher turned and gave the science teacher a shocked glare while the science teacher turned bright red from his face to the top of his balding head. In retrospect I guess it was kind of a mean thing to do, but we didn't know the English teacher would be there. After she left the room we explained that the history teacher put us up to it and the science teacher swore revenge on him. We never did get to play that game in history class again and I never knew why.

2005-04-01T16:39:00.000-05:00

And now the conclusion of the apartment story.

After emailing the two girls to see if they still wanted to meet, knowing that the beautiful apartment was gone, one wrote back saying "no thanks". But G, the one who had written to me within an hour of my ad posting was all for it.

G and I met for coffee and talked for three hours. I told her about the other nice apartment I had seen - the one on two levels with all the nooks. We called the realtor and miraculously, that apartment was still available.

What followed was putting down a costly deposit to secure the apartment and a whirlwind of interviewing for the third roommate (we ended up with someone who just mixed well with us - the three of us talked and laughed easily).

I admit I was very nervous about my credit check. I know my credit is, shall we say, less than perfect? I emailed our friendly realtor telling him I was really worried about it but assuring him I had never ever missed a rent payment in all my years of renting. He wrote back saying that he was going to make sure I got that apartment. He ended up telling me later that he and the owner thought I seemed like a nice girl and that I deserved a break. I asked him "so, how bad was my credit?" and he said, "well... there were some... spots..." Yikes! Well, I guess sometimes you can get by with a smile and just a dollop of charm.

So in the end, it all worked out the way it was supposed to. The universe really did direct my path to the realty office and craigslist did the rest. I move in two weeks. And, if you think I'm anywhere near prepared then you are quite mistaken!

2005-03-30T16:53:00.000-05:00

For those of you who are not familiar with it, Scattergories is a game where you get a list of random things such as "things you'd eat at a picnic" or "famous authors" and someone rolls the many-sided dice with letters on it and whatever it lands on, you have to list things that are in each random category on your list but the things can only start with the designated letter. There's also a timer so you have to do it fast.

I went to my parents' house on Easter and the three of us ended up playing Scattergories. We had the most fun with "O". I was impressed with myself for listing "outer space" as "things found in science fiction movies". But my mom got the same answer which means neither of us got the point. One of the categories on the list was "things found in the White House". I thought it was obvious enough and answered "oval office" (for two points because of the two "O"s) but once again my mom and I were thinking alike and we didn't get any points.

I was telling this whole story to a friend I work with who also loves to play Scattergories. I was telling her how strange it was that my mom and I kept answering the same. Then I asked her "What would you say for 'things found in the White House' and it has to start with 'O'?" She replied nonchalantly and without hesitation, "oral sex". Now see? That would've been a unique enough answer to get me a point. Why didn't I think of that?

2005-03-28T16:41:00.000-05:00

Sometimes the way my mind works is so amusing. I don't know if things like this happen to other people or if this will even impress anyone else the way it impressed me, but here goes. And keep in mind that I didn't think about this at all, it just popped into my mind fully formed.

Remember in Back to the Future when Michael J. Fox keeps looking at the picture of his brother that's disappearing and remember how towards the end when he's playing the guitar and his parents are dancing together at the Enchantment Under the Sea dance, he whips out the picture and sees that his brother is coming back? And you know how at that moment he realizes that the course of things has been changed, that the space time continuum has been altered and he knows that now things are going to continue on the right path toward the future?

Well there you go. That's my analogy for something that recently occurred. Something that had nothing to do with time travel, disappearing photography, or Michael J. Fox. And yet it is so apropos. Instead of simply understanding what I was feeling as, "recent developments have put things back on the right path", my mind comes up with an elaborate Back to the Future analogy which then brings me around to the realization that, "Hmmm... Back to the Future... Enchantment Under the Sea... oh, I get it! Recent developments have put things back on the right path!" Does anyone else think like this?

2005-03-24T16:31:00.000-05:00

After a night of feeling like the rug had just been pulled out from under me, I woke up the next morning with a thought so obvious, I don't know why I didn't think it sooner. My thought was - C and M don't want to get an apartment? That's fine. I can get my unique 70's pad that they didn't even like! I felt a drive and determination and most of all, a renewed faith in the universe to provide. I carefully focused my intentions on my plan.

I got to work and emailed the realtor telling him C and M had bailed, and that I wanted that apartment he'd shown us. I said I was confident I could find two other people to share it with and what did I need to do to get that place? Then I immediately posted an ad about the apartment and what I was looking for and I politely asked the universe or any higher power who may have been listening to help. Within an hour there was a response to my post from a girl who we'll call G. She was great - funny, friendly, and answered all the questions right.

G and I emailed back and forth for a couple of days and we planned to meet and the realtor agreed to join us in order to show us the apartment. We even had some good potentials for our third person, one of which I arranged to meet us for the evening's apartment showing. I felt nervous and excited - everything was working out great... too great.

The morning of the meeting I got an email from the realtor which said the apartment was gone. The landlord had accepted new tenants just the night before. I felt sick. My beautiful swinging 70's apartment was gone. Filled with shock and disbelief, I emailed the girls I was meeting that evening with the bad news. I told them if they didn't want to meet I would understand. Even as I typed I was getting more responses to the ad about the place. I felt like I had been misrepresented myself all over the internet.

2005-03-22T16:05:00.000-05:00

And now for another apartment update. Mostly because, well, who hasn't been waiting with baited breath for an apartment update? I'm so far behind in my updates because I just can't write at the speed of life so let me take you back in time to where we last left off from this compelling and drawn out story.

I had found that hip 70's pad and the two young ladies who were my intended roommates-to-be did not share my enthusiasm for it's groovy swinging vibe. Fortunately, the three of us saw another apartment we all liked and could agree on. It had two levels with bedrooms and a bath upstairs plus another bathroom downstairs, and it had nooks. Nooks! There were two of them; on the first level the nook was about half the size of a regular room and could be designated a study, a library, a computer room, a guest bedroom, or what have you. The upstairs nook was much like an oversized closet but plenty big enough for a computer desk, a comfy arm chair, or an oversized closet.

I explained to C and M, (the two potential roommates for those of you playing along at home), that I needed a commitment from them that this was definately going to happen. If I told my landlord I was moving out then that would be it, no going back. I'd be living in my car if plans fell through. They promised to let me know for sure the next day. I was worried a bit about M, the one who was completely overwhelmed about school, work, and whatnot, and had expressed that this wasn't the best time for her to move. I didn't want to burn any bridges until I had something definate lined up.

Late the next night C called to tell me her decision. I was shocked when she said that she wasn't ready to move in with someone she didn't know (or out from her boyfriend's place). I didn't know what to say so I sat there in the dark, holding the phone to my ear and saying "o.k." eight thousand times. I couldn't believe it. We had spent a week and a half together riding around and looking at apartments. We had been having a great time together and she seemed to be all for getting an apartment. And what about the fate that had delivered us to the office of the realtor I had been emailing with? What about that?

I hung up the phone feeling like I had just been broken up with. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and telling myself, "she'll change her mind, she'll be back." If I had started playing the Cure or Morrissey it would've just completed the picture of how I was feeling. But don't feel bad for me because there is (of course) more to this story!

2005-03-18T16:26:00.000-05:00

When I walked in this morning there was a giant inflatable rabbit sitting at my desk. And by sitting, I mean he was propped just so between my desk and chair, facing the computer and answering the telephone. This prompted me to remark, "see, even a giant inflatable rabbit can do my job."

* * * * *

Now why don't you all go over and visit my new friend Flavia! She has just started her own blog so please stop by and say hello! Flavia was my Great International Secret Blog Exchange gift package sender! She sent me an awesome package full of goodies from Australia. There were toys, chocolates, candles, a postcard, and the very best of all, a koala in a can!! I was happy to let him out of the can in which he traveled around the world. He was glad to breath in the fresh air again, even though he found himself in a strange country. He immediately settled right in and began to get acclimated to his new surroundings. Thanks Flavia!!

2005-03-16T17:05:00.000-05:00

I got the weirdest phone call last night before I left work... the caller knew it was me, saying my name, and then told me to guess who he was. I guessed something and I can't be sure what transpired but now I'm just hoping it was not the person I guessed. All I know was that a lot of whispering went on and I wasn't sure what was being said or even who I was speaking to. It was all very confusing and I ended up hanging up.

My point is that answering the phones is a pain in the neck for (among other reasons) the very fact that you become a captive audience. You can't not answer - it's your job. You can't disguise your voice - it's already out there. It's not like when bill collectors used to call and I would politely tell them I was not there at the moment and could I take a message? Now I have the blissful invention known as caller ID at home and I never get stuck talking to someone I don't want to talk to.

But at work, people can find me and I don't like it. Not just strange whisperers, but coworkers that need my help, or sales people asking 20 questions, or wrong numbers, or prank callers, I have to deal with it all. It must be karmic retribution for all those times I avoided bill collectors by "forgetting" to give myself the message.

2005-03-15T16:46:00.000-05:00

I'd just like to say hello to my new friend Vivi. Recently Vivi and Tracey organized the Great International Secret Blog Exchange and it was a blast! Vivi was chosen at random to be my recipient and I sent her some Boston memorabilia as well as some things she requested. You can read about it here. I also just recieved my awesome gift package from a sweet girl in Australia! I will be writing all about that in more detail this week so stay tuned.

2005-03-11T16:35:00.000-05:00

My mother's powers of mental recall are astounding. Last night she told me that she ran into an old friend of mine at the library. As everyone knows, my mom works at the library. Apparently a young lady came in and my mom must have recognized the name on her library card or something, because acting on instinct, my mom asked her if she grew up in (same-town-I-grew-up-in) and if she had gone to (same-elementary-school-I-went-to). When both questions were answered in the affirmative my mom told her "you knew my daughter", which resulted in much cheerful reminiscing of our friendship and ended with my mom getting her business card and promising her that I would send her an email. My mom was truly enthusiastic about the whole thing asking me, "do you want me to tell you what her email address is so you can email her tomorrow?" to which I replied, "that's o.k., I don't have to email her tomorrow" and my mother protested, "but she seemed so happy that she'd be hearing from you!"

O.K., first of all? I was friends with this girl for several months in the fifth grade. Granted that friendships at that age can be really intense - I went to her house almost every day, we had many slumber parties, etc. However, that was literally and figuratively, twenty years ago. How my mom recovered this information from deeply hidden vault in her brain, I'll never know. What I remember is that this girl and I were really into barbies, mad libs, and stickers.

And here's where the story takes a dramatic turn for the ugly. In fifth grade we periodically got to order books and whatnot from a little catalog that was sent home with us after school. I don't know the exact details, but they aren't important in this case. The thing that is important is that I happily ordered a page of stickers that looked like stamps with little faces and words on them called, I think, Lickety Stickers, or something. I was so excited to get my lickety stickers. They seemed like so very many stickers to have at one time - a whole page! Of small stamp-like stickers!

Finally the longed for day came to pass when my lickety stickers arrived. I looked at them briefly and then tenderly put them in my backpack to take home and enjoy later to their full lickety stickerness. And then sometime after recess I noticed something terrible. My lickety stickers were gone. They weren't in my backpack any more and I was so upset. It was heartbreaking really. I told the teacher but we couldn't find them. Of course I told my dearest-sticker-loving friend how sad I was and she was ever so understanding.

The lickety stickers were never found. Several days later, I was sleeping over at that friend's house and casually flipping through her sticker book (a large photo album full of stickers). There, on one page, was a whole sheet of lickety stickers that I hadn't noticed before. I asked her sister (who happened to be in the room at that time but my friend wasn't) if it was possible my friend had stolen my lickety stickers. The sister replied, "oh yeah, she does that all the time." She does that all the time! When my friend returned to the room I confronted her - "are these MY lickety stickers?" She assured me they were hers but I wasn't buying it. I think I may have right then and there called my mom to pick me up.

After that night I stopped speaking to her. A couple weeks later, a girl had brought in a huge, fabulous sticker book to show the class. She started to cry when later in the day the book went missing. I discreetly asked the teacher if I could go to the coatroom for a moment where I then, acting on a hunch, took a sneak peak into Sticker Stealer's backpack. Sure enough, there was the prized sticker book belonging to the other girl. I was able to explain the whole thing to the teacher without causing a big to-do and the other girl was eternally grateful to me. I was so happy I saved someone else from the trauma I had experienced but even that heroism wasn't enough to bring back my lickety stickers.

And this Sticker Stealing girl is the very same girl my mom ran into last night who seemed thrilled by the idea of getting back in touch. I gently reminded my mom that I believe she had stolen some lickety stickers from me two decades ago and my mom said, "really? She mentioned something about how SHE had given some of her stickers to YOU." She what?? Are you even kidding me?

So my question for you is this, what do I do? My mom was so pleased with herself and I simply can't let her down by not emailing this girl. Especially because my mom might run into her again and that would be embarrassing. But silly as it sounds, I'm still a little angry. Is it worth holding a grudge for twenty years over stickers? Or is she now a fine upstanding citizen who deserves a chance? And if we do get together to catch up on old times, how can I be sure my valuables will be protected?

2005-03-10T17:18:00.000-05:00

Can't talk right now I'm off to either:

A. sign a lease on a new apartment,

or

B. not sign a lease and shatter someone's hopes and dreams.

I hate this kind of quandry but see, it all depends on the parking situation. If it costs extra then it's really not even worth the trouble for me to move because I won't be saving much and I won't have a porch or even a dishwasher. But if the parking is free, then I will be living in a two level in walkable distance to restaurants! Restaurants are a huge priority when deciding where to live. I'm writing so fast, I hope this made sense!

2005-03-08T16:50:00.000-05:00

I'd like to tell you a little story about a spider I encountered today.

I went into the ladies room after drinking two cups of coffee and plenty of water. I was just about to sit down when I noticed something dark on the white wall above. I had to squint to be sure, since it was a little distance away from me and I'm a bit nearsighted (which, when you think about it, could make a person all the more vulnerable to encountering a spider unaware). Indeed it was a spider. The large brown kind of spider that used to torment me in my first apartment which was in an old house.

Nervously, I proceeded to drop my pants, keeping one eye on the wall the whole time. Then I quickly got the heck out of the bathroom (after washing my hands of course, spiders are no excuse for neglecting good hygiene. Well, at long as they are nowhere near the sink that is.)

I sent an email to one of my coworkers, a guy who is always good natured and willing to lend a hand when needed. I asked how he would feel about killing a rather large spider in the ladies room. He responded by accepting the mission right away and gathering the necessary supplies (some paper towels, a lady to check that the ladies room was empty, etc.)

About five minutes later he returned to my desk and assured me, "the arachnid has been eradicated". Thank goodness because I was prepared to never use that bathroom again.

2005-03-04T16:30:00.000-05:00

Oh but there's more. Isn't there always more? Here is Part 3 and I promise you that someday when I have a place to live, I will stop writing about apartments and roommates and realtors and get back to the more interesting mundanities of life.

The realtor showed us a few places and one of them was what can only be deemed a swinging 70's pad. I can't exactly explain why. Was it the pink lighting in the entry way giving off the vibe that we were about to enter a swinging nightclub? Was it the rectangular cut outs in the wall designed exclusively for plants to be hung? Was it the cavernous size of the roller-rink remniscent living room? Or was it the round shape of the bedrooms? The funky chandelier hanging in the dining room? The bathroom's bright orange toilet and matching bidet? It was all of that and more. And I fell in love with it. It was cute and quirky, but I am cute and quirky, so I felt that the apartment loved me right back. We were made for each other. Heck, we were both created in the 70's. I imagined myself living there and it felt so right. Groovy man, far out.

Wait... hear that? It's the scratching sound that happens when the needle is pulled rapidly across a disco record and the music stops. The other two girls did not like the apartment. They wanted something more modern. That should've raised a red flag right there. I mean, if you can't love the fabulousness of an offbeat apartment then you and I might not be a good roommate match after all. To be continued...

2005-03-02T16:26:00.000-05:00

And now for part 2. I wasn't terribly distressed by my roommate's news because our lease is up at the end of this month and I had always planned on finding a less expensive apartment at that time. However, I hate the whole idea of moving into an apartment that people already live in. I've done it before and I felt like a permanent house guest.

So, I posted an ad on the infamous craigslist where I have always had good luck before. My ad invited one or two people to apartment search with me. I got an email from a girl who sounded great - we'll call her C. C and I arranged to meet for coffee and chat and she also knew another girl, M, who might be interested. The backstory is that both girls are grad students, one is currently living with a boyfriend who she recently broke up with and so she seemed eager to get a place, and the other is living with a relative and relies only on public transportation to get around so a place was needed that would be convenient to navigate from and boyfriend-free.

I met C for coffee and she was great - cute, sweet, and talkative. Then I got to meet M and liked her as well. The three of us were laughing within minutes. There was a mutual agreement all around that we would be a great group of roommates.

And then, fate stepped in. Not once, but twice. (The first was how C found me to begin with. It turns out I had posted my ad in the wrong section where she was posting at that same moment in time. She saw my ad and it sounded almost word for word like her ad and that's why she got in touch.)

The weekend was spent running around like crazy ladies. I had emailed one realtor about three ads he had posted. He said we could call him on Saturday after 5 and he would show us the places. We saw several places in the afternoon, none of which matched what we needed. Around 4:30, M had to leave so C suggested that she and I go to the area we wanted to live (sort of an urban neighborhood with lots of cafes, shops, and realty offices) and just walk into a realty office and ask for help. I remembered seeing a realty office on the main street so we went there. We arrived and tried the door, but it was locked. Then we noticed the place was empty except for one guy sitting at a computer. Although they were closed, he let us in anyway and we told him we needed help. We all sat down to talk about apartments, when suddenly he asked me if I had been looking for apartments online and emailing with a realtor. He was the realtor.

Fated instance number two. HE was the realtor that I had been emailing with about seeing the three places after 5! We all looked at our watches and realized it was 5:05. Is anyone else getting chills here? Of all the realty offices in all the world, we had to walk into his. Do you ever feel like the important events of your life are being orchestrated from someplace else? I knew that it was a very good sign for me from the universe, because as we all know, there are no coincidences.

2005-02-28T17:14:00.000-05:00

Because I'm still up to my eyeballs in this neverending work project, I am going to have to tell this long story in parts. Here is part 1:

My roommate told me that she will be moving in with her boyfriend.

2005-02-24T16:01:00.000-05:00

If this phone rings one more time I'm throwing it out the window. I have been so busy working on a project here at work that I am all out of sorts. Not to mention the hunt is on for a new apartment (more on that later) and I joined weight watchers on Saturday so I have been seriously starving.

I know that I am not overweight. In fact, I think there is a sort of guilt to admitting to dieting when people look at you funny and say, "you're so small". Almost like you have an eating disorder or you just have no business trying to lose weight. And the truth is, I am pretty small. But I'm not suffering from any misconceptions. I know how much I weigh and it's more than I'd like. Two and a half years ago I weighed 98 pounds and my mom was threatening to take me to the hospital. I was just really active that summer. And stressed out, and living on my own with no dishwasher (hence the lack of interest in dirtying dishes by cooking). I was underweight then and I want to get to a place between that and where I am now.

So far it's been tough but I am a beacon of will power. I am doing really well and I feel good about it. Of course, that hasn't stopped things from floating into my head at all hours of the day. Things like burritos and cookies and Krispy Kreme doughnuts. The great thing about ww is that they do give you room to indulge in things such as those, just as long as you factor it into your whole plan.

The not so great thing about ww is that I feel like while I may be keeping within the right amounts of food per day, I don't feel like I'm eating the right things. I've been eating a lot of cereal, oatmeal, and bread with jam. What about protein and fruit and soy milk and juice full of vitamin C? What about my cholesterol?

See? Stressful. And you know, I feel very out of the loop because I haven't been able to catch up on my blog reading lately and the longer I go without reading someone's blog, the more entries are there to be read once I do pop in. Do me a favor, don't write anything for a few days, o.k.? Let me catch up. Also? I can't even tell you how many times the phone has rung while I've been writing this. It's days are numbered and that window is looking awfully inviting to it.

2005-02-22T16:44:00.000-05:00

This morning I left for work after a nice long three day weekend. It was cold, there was snow all over the place, and I was half asleep. I started to drive down the street when I heard a sound - the kind of sound you might hear if you have a window open that you aren't aware of. I looked in my side mirror to find that the driver's side door was not flush with the body of the car as would be expected if it were shut. Still driving, I quickly opened the door and pulled it shut again. But it wouldn't shut any further than it had been shut the moment before which was only quasi-shut.

I pulled over and tried it a few more times to no avail. Thinking there was something blocking it, I started fiddling with the little metal latch on the side. The only thing I successfully accomplished was getting nasty grease all over my fingers. I tried a few more times to shut the door but I had made it worse - now it would only bang against the car and not even shut even a little bit. I was perplexed and for just a few moments, unable to process the situation and figure out what to do next. I was down the street from my apartment with a car door that wouldn't shut and an expected work arrival time of 15 minutes later.

First I left messages for a bunch of people at work describing my wacky dilemma. Then, I turned the car around and drove to my local gas station, all the while hanging onto the door for dear life so that it wouldn't fly open in transit. In retrospect, this is actually comical - me driving along, one hand clinging to the door and pulling against the force of gravity or whatever that force is that causes doors to fly open while a car is moving, and the other on the wheel. I was wondering how I might be able to finagle an extra day off out of the whole scenario.

At the gas station, they adjusted whatever I had messed up with the little metal latch and then sprayed the inside hinge with some special rust remover. When I got to work I climbed across and exited on the passenger side. I sure didn't want to leave my car door open while I was inside work all day! I called my mechanic (who happens to be right at the end of my company's street) to see if he could take a look. He agreed although he's super busy today, and right now my poor sweet vehicle is there. However, the car may have to stay overnight and I have no idea how I'm going to get home! Isn't this all so very comical?

2005-02-18T16:18:00.000-05:00

This week has been so busy for me at work that I have barely had any time to read all of the blogs belonging to the lovely folks to the right, let alone post much myself. How spoiled am I at work? I guess normally people go to their jobs and do actual work all day. Anyway, I managed to steal half an hour to tell you two things:

1. I'm feeling a little sad because my hairdresser is no longer available. She is going to have a baby any second now and has apparently dropped all clients that don't get their hair colored. Um, hello? Shouldn't it be the other way around? I finally found someone who gave me a great haircut and who understands my anxieties enough to let me relax and who calls me (and most everyone else for that matter) little endearing names like "Sweetheart" and "Honey" which make me feel all mushy inside. She is an awesome hairdresser and I don't know what I'm going to do now. Keep growing my hair in protest? This is so unfair.

2. My boss asked me to find out how much it would cost to send a large envelope to Japan. I went to the handy postal service website to calculate postage. We saw that if you want your mail to arrive in 3 to 4 days, the cost is $9.00. My boss opted for the special economy rate ($4.05) even though we noticed that the time it will take from start to finish is 4 - 6 weeks. I'm sorry, did you catch that? Four to six weeks. What do they do, hand deliver the thing? My mailman picks it up from here and says, "oh the economy rate, looks like I better pack my bags," and prepares for a long personal journey over land and sea, on foot and by boat? Now that's what I call service.

2005-02-15T11:13:00.000-05:00

Reflecting on my erstwhile friend and would-be houseguest, I realized how much I have changed since my early 20's when she and I were coworkers and groups of us would meet every Friday night after work for drinking and gossiping and laughing. I no longer have the desire to drink to excess as a regular pastime. I still enjoy a good gossip now and again, but for the most part it's too hurtful and high-schoolish for my liking. And laughter? Well, I'm still all about laughter.

I guess my point is that I don't know how to interact with this person without drinking and talking about our (now former) coworkers. We never had much solid ground to form a real friendship on, and the occasions we got together sober, just the two of us, conversation tended to stall. I realize that I am much more sure of myself and self-accepting than I once was. I am learning to set limits with people, especially those who drain too much energy. Sometimes it takes a situation or person from the past to make you realize that somewhere along the way you've changed.

However, I would like to share with you a story that is a classic example of the fun I used to have in my wild youth. This is one of my favorite most fun stories from that time in my life. The above referenced friend, we'll just call her S, invited me and our friend, B, to her apartment one evening. When B and I arrived, S was well ahead of us in the drinking realm, so B and I started to quickly catch up. We played an uproariously funny game of Truth of Dare which became more and more fun as the night went on. Finally, at the pinnacle of the game, one of us dared B to go into S's room and put on a lovely green dress and then come out and model it for us. Did I mention that B is a guy? He would be so upset with me for telling this story to the world. But anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the green dress.

So B goes off into S's bedroom to change and then S gets a phone call from her boyfriend who is out somewhere and they start fighting. She goes into the bathroom and shuts the door to talk to him. I'm sitting in the living room by myself when suddenly I realize I'm not feeling so well. I run outside to get some air and I sit on the front stoop for quite a while waiting for the world to stop spinning. Meanwhile, as B told it later, he comes out in the pretty green dress, only to find everyone gone. He decides to wait for us to return so he nonchalantly sits on the couch and turns on a sports channel. So he's sitting there engaging in the macho act of watching sports while wearing a very feminine ensemble, and he starts to envision S's boyfriend coming home at just that moment to find, not S herself, but B, just casually sitting in a green dress watching tv. It was at that point that logic kicked in and he realized that maybe we were no longer playing Truth or Dare.

2005-02-14T17:05:00.000-05:00

On this special day of love, I'd just like to take a moment to say how much I love all of you! Thank you for always leaving supportive comments or just stopping by to read. I appreciate each one of you and I hope you all have a lovely Valentine's Day.

And everything worked out fine this weekend.

2005-02-10T16:55:00.000-05:00

What would you do? I discovered a message on my cell phone from an old friend who I hadn't spoken to in at least three years. By friend I mean that we had some good times together but we were never especially close. Hearing her voice on the message was strange, but stranger still that she sounded disturbed. Something was wrong. I was driving myself crazy wondering what it was. Was she o.k.? Did something happen to someone we know?

When I got home last night I called her back and when I asked how she was doing she told me that she couldn't be worse. She then proceeded to tell me her tale of woe, the part relevant to this story being, she has no place to live. She has been "bouncing around" and she mentioned that she wasn't sure where she could go in a couple of days. She did everything but ask if she could stay at my apartment. Listening to her, I couldn't not offer some help. I didn't have a very good excuse (looking forward to a weekend alone to catch up on some personal things just didn't seem adequate). So I said, "if you need to crash here for a night or two, that's fine."

As you may be able to guess, she will be arriving tomorrow evening. I'm not looking forward to it for a number of reasons. One, we aren't that close so I don't know if I'm supposed to hang out with her all weekend or what. Two, I have to set limits right off the bat. I don't want her to stay past this weekend and I'm not sure how to say that without sounding mean. Three, if she's not in a good mood, what are we going to do? Sit and talk? Watch tv? It's a huge annoyance all around.

On the other hand, if the situations were reversed, I would want someone to do it for me. She must've been pretty desparate to call me out of the blue like that. We used to work together. She always had problems, but nothing this major. The first thing my roommate asked when I told her was "is she going to steal our stuff?" And I couldn't confidently say no. I feel like really, for all the fun we had together - drinking, laughing, etc., - I don't even know her all that well. I feel bad and want to help, but I also feel like I need to be careful about putting myself in an uncomfortable position. I have a hard time figuring out how to help people without hurting myself. Please think good thoughts that my friend will get back on her feet and not overstay her welcome. And while you're at it, just add boundary issues to my list of neuroses.

2005-02-08T16:30:00.000-05:00

Well, my faithful, reliable, trusty old friend (my car) and I had a safe and successful journey on Saturday. I have to say that I'm starting to rethink my views on transportation. It just isn't practical to only feel comfortable driving someplace yourself. If you look at a map of the country and you locate teensy little Massachusetts and then you pinpoint approximately where Boston is right on the coast and then you identify the approximate location of my friend's hometown in the top left corner next to New York state, you will think that I drove a few mere inches on Saturday when in reality, I drove over a total of about 250 miles round trip and it took just under three hours one way. Now if you take that teensy little distance into consideration and look at the places I'd like to go at some point, California perhaps to visit my brother, or North Carolina maybe, you will see just how impractical it would be for me to drive anywhere.

My car has no cd player and the tape player is broken. Most of the time this is no problem as I'll just scan through the stations. However, you would be surprised what you would be willing to listen to when you're driving between two mountains watching your radio scan through all the stations stopping only on an opera station at the lower end of the dial. At one point I turned off the radio altogether and the peace and quiet of nature nearly lulled me to sleep. I had to start singing to myself which was frustrating because I only know all the words to so many songs. Another activity to keep my motivation up was that every time I passed a sign that said "Entering (town name)" I gave a loud cheer of "woo hoo, (town name!!)" Hey, it's fun to do crazy things when you're alone in your car. Also, it resulted in me noticing town names I previously didn't know even existed. It was a geographical adventure and a soul searching drive all wrapped up into one.

The baby shower itself was pretty standard. There was food, there were gifts, there was my pregnant friend. I was greeted pleasantly by the rescuing bridesmaid and her sister. No one seemed to be giving me the evil eye. I stayed until late afternoon and ended up driving mostly in the dark on the way home which made me feel slightly paranoid but mostly just tired.

I was also sad and that surprised me. This friend and I have been close ever since college. We used to get together at least once a week for dinner or marathon chats at her kitchen table. I love her for many reasons, not the least of which are her ability to consistently make me laugh, the fact that she gives the best advice on any subject, and her positive energy that just makes being around her feel good. A realization finally hit me after getting home from her baby shower - that things will never be the same between us as they were before. They haven't been for quite a while since she got married and moved to Canada but this was the final factor that drove the point home. I am so happy that she is having a baby and I know she'll be a great mom, but I wish she wasn't so far away. Then I think, things would still be different between us even if she lived close because I would still be left behind in the same place and she would still be up ahead in another place. It feels like a very real loss in a way and one that I am just beginning to come to grips with.

On a lighter note I think that making the trip itself was a very good thing for me. If I had avoided ever driving out there again, it would've remained in my mind as this insurmountable obstacle - something that I just couldn't do. Now I can see myself making the drive again, as I'm sure I will at some point when my friend is there. In fact, I have already decided that next time I am getting a hotel room instead of making the drive in one day. Doing the drive again gave me another association for it, aside from trauma. I need to stop letting fear limit me from doing things. I go around thinking "I can't do that" when really I should be thinking "oh, get over it Katie". Instead of giving power to the fears, I should be giving power to myself. I know it's easier said than done, but I've decided that this year one of my goals is going to be to do something I'm afraid of. In fact, we should all make that our goal because it's an amazing feeling. Who's with me?

2005-02-04T17:04:00.000-05:00

A couple of summers ago I had to drive out to the western part of the state for a friend's wedding in which I was a bridesmaid. The drive was three hours long but that didn't bother me all that much because it's quite a scenic drive. I have made the drive several times in the past to visit my friend at her parents house while we were on summer break from college. Western Massachusetts is mountainous and parts of it are quite rural. You begin the drive on a typical four lane highway and before you know it, you find yourself on a winding mountain road quite different from where you started. It's so strange to see mountains rising up on the horizon in all directions, making you feel like you are in a fishbowl, and you have to remind yourself there is a clear path out. At least, I do. But it's strikingly beautiful at the same time. And once we went to the top of the highest one and looked down through the observation binocular thingys. But that's a story for another day.

So that summer I got an oil change before my trip at a popular well known chain of oil change places. I'll only say that the name starts with the letter J and that if you know which one I mean you need to promise me you will never ever go there. They did such a half assed job and did not put the oil filter back on my car correctly. Little did I know that the whole drive through the mountains (where there is no cell service I might add), my poor vehicle was slowly leaking oil.

Somehow I made it safely, checked into my hotel room, got to the rehearsal at the church and back to the hotel for the rehearsal dinner all without a hitch. The next day however, I was following another bridesmaid in my car because she had grown up there as well and knew the area. We were on our way to get our hair done for the impending matrimony, when suddenly my car's oil light came on. I was mystified because I knew there had to be oil in there. But sure enough, moments later my dear sweet car simply died on the side of the road.

The other bridesmaid didn't notice right away that I wasn't behind her anymore and I just sat in my car and cried. I called my parents in hysterics and begged them to come pick me up but they said they weren't driving three hours and I should take a bus. My parents are generally not so unfeeling but then again, most adult daughters wouldn't dissolve into absolute panic at the prospect of being stranded in an unfamiliar mountain town three hours from home.

Once again my anxiety had to rear it's ugly head. I hate riding in other people's cars. It makes me panicky not to be in control. I know that's crazy, I wasn't always like this, and I hope I won't always be, but there it is. So I had no idea what to do and I've never felt so stranded in my life.

The other bridesmaid finally came back for me and she was terribly sweet and sympathetic. We got my car towed (the other problem - I couldn't have it towed to my mechanic back home without it costing a huge sum of money). It was towed to a local service station and the other bridesmaid took me to her parents house (promising to pull over if I asked her to). From there many more phone calls were made as we tried to locate a rental car place that was actually open on Sunday (I'm telling you this is not the big city out there). I finally found a person willing to make the drive out and rescue me, much to my relief. I was also lent the bridesmaid's sister's brand new car to get back and forth to the hotel in. That was probably one of the nicest and most trusting things anyone has ever done for me. Additionally, the bridesmaid herself had sacrificed the opportunity to get her hair done so she could help me and never once complained. Even after listening to me tearfully admonishing to my father over the phone, "So you're willing to just leave me out here in the middle of nowhere?" Boy, those mountain folk sure are good people!

It all turned out o.k. I was rescued by a knight in shining armor and through the aid of a motion sickness drug, was relatively calm during the ride back. I didn't crash the sister's brand new car or permanently insult the bridesmaid with my opinion of her hickville town. The wedding wasn't ruined and our hair came out o.k., even though we'd done it ourselves. My car was fixed and brought back home and those bastards-at-the-oil-change-chain-which-shall-remain-nameless-but-I-really-hope-you-know-who-I-mean had to pay for the whole new engine (since mine had seized by the way, a big big problem) because I was able to prove the whole thing had been their fault.

Tomorrow for the first time since this whole sordid incident, I have to return to western Mass for the same friend's baby shower. She now lives in Canada with her new husband so it's a heck of a lot easier to see her in western Mass. But I am scared. I feel like I'm getting back on the horse. And I'm embarrassed to see the extraordinarily friendly people who helped me - embarrassed because they probably remember me as the hysterical girl who insulted their town and made the bridesmaid miss her hair appointment. I don't want to go but my friend means just that much to me. So I have to.

2005-02-02T17:03:00.000-05:00

Because of my central role at my company - answering phones, handling the travel arrangements, etc. - I get to interact with the people in the various locations around the country more than most of my coworkers do. This week, three of those people came to our office for a big important meeting. There were two from Arkansas and one from Tennessee and I'm not kidding when I tell you that they are some of the nicest people you could hope to meet. When they came in the door they had big hugs for everyone and greeted me as "Miss Katie" and acted like they were just thrilled to see me. It really made me feel good, as though however meaningless and mindless my job may be, I am still making connections and promoting positive energy in some way.

I had a conversation with the AR woman about all the snow on the ground and how cold it is here and I jokingly said I should move down there and she was all for it, even telling me that the amount of rent I am paying for my two bedroom apartment would get me a small mansion in her area. I'm a little suspicious why some places are that cheap to live though, like maybe there's nothing there worth living close to.

Additionally, I sent someone down to the AR office last week and due to plane mix ups and whatnot, she didn't get to her hotel in Little Rock until 2 am. They had given up her room but they weren't supposed to so they sent her to a hotel which unbeknownst to her was in a not-so-nice area of town where she was then solicited in the lobby by a gentleman who introduced himself with a name that I'm certain his mother did not bestow upon him at birth and then he politely inquired as to whether she had ever been with (and by been with, I mean slept with, or at least, that's what he meant) a man of his particular racial persuasion. It really shocked me to think about all this happening to this poor woman on a business trip in an unfamiliar city in the middle of the night because this is Arkansas for goodness sakes but you know, that sort of thing happens all the time in Boston I'm sure and we still have to pay an arm and a leg to live here.

2005-01-31T16:48:00.000-05:00

I love getting a laugh with my meal. I have these crackers called "Just Wheats". I was reading the side panel and it says "ingredients: wheat". Right below that it says "allergy information: may contain wheat."

No I'm just kidding, it actually says, "allergy information: contains wheat" but I took creative license right there because it would be funnier if it said it may contain wheat. It's still pretty funny though. What kind of idiot out there is going, "hmmm... Just Wheats... these sound like good crackers but you know, I have a strong allergy to wheat... maybe I should just check what it says here..." Worse, you know that they had to add that little disclaimer because someone out there would find a way to sue them if they had an allergic reaction...

Judge: so what you're saying sir, is that you purchased a box of Just Wheats and had an allergic reaction to the wheat they contain.

Stupid Person: that's right your honor, no place on the box was there a warning for people with wheat allergies.

Judge: You're right! We are awarding you ten million dollars.

2005-01-27T13:18:00.000-05:00

When the snow started to clear on Sunday afternoon, I decided to go and shovel my car out so I would be prepared for work on Monday. Shovelling makes me tired and cold and grumpy so I was glad I could do it on a Sunday afternoon instead of on my way to work.

I piled on heaps of clothes - two pairs of sweatpants on top of each other, mittens, scarves, etc. I grabbed my newly purchased shovel and headed out the door. I immediately noticed that the sidewalk had not been cleaned yet. The way I noticed this was that I was wading through snow that completely engulfed my legs with each step. Seeing no easy path to the street, I proceeded to climb over, or should I say through, the nearest snowbank. Piled higher than the snow on the sidewalk, it was quite a challenge. For a minute I actually considered the fact that I might fall down and not be discovered until spring.

Luckily I burst triumphant through the other side of the snowbank and made my way down the street. When I arrived at the parking lot I couldn't believe what I saw. It had not been plowed yet and the whole thing looked like a giant swimming pool full of snow as high as the trunk of my poor buried car. If it had been a swimming pool full of water and it was a heck of a lot warmer outside and my car wasn't stranded in the middle of it all, I might have felt a little excited and jumped in for dip. Actually, if I wasn't cold and wet and grumpy, I may have enjoyed it anyway.

Discouraged and frustrated, I turned back for the return journey to my building. Once upstairs I stripped out of my snow covered clothes feeling angry that I had wasted nice dry sweatpants on a fruitless endeavor. I hopped back into my warm bed to read and started to feel a little better.

Monday morning at the crack of dawn, or at least 7 am, I had to once again pile on sweatpants and go out to survey the damage. By now the parking lot had been plowed but of course, this left a waist-high wall of snow behind my car. Have I mentioned how much I hate shoveling? I cleared away the snow behind the car and then forced the driver's side door open. I got in, started the car, and barrelled backwards out of the space. I couldn't believe how easy it was! Of course, I was still tired and cold and grumpy and I had to drive around and find a different place to park since my spot was still full of eight tons of snow.

Once newly parked in a nicely plowed and sanded parking lot, I headed back inside to get ready for work. Then I headed back out into the frigid cold feeling pleased with myself that I was only going to be half an hour late. I had to cross two major streets to get to my car and as I was crossing the second one, I slipped on the slushy mess in the street and fell right down. Right in the street! There I was, wearing lipstick, carrying my lunch, and I fell down in the street. I'm sure it must have looked comical but it didn't feel so comical.

I got up quickly and assessed the situation. Hmmm... anything broken? Clothing torn? No and no. I was closer to the car at that point and it was just too cold to go all the way back so I limped onward. I had a cut on my hand and my jeans were soaking wet and as I got into the car I felt miserable. I wanted to go back to bed not to work. But grown ups have to do hard things and they can't just run home every time they get a cut hand or wet pants. But they can really REALLY hate winter.

2005-01-25T16:47:00.000-05:00

Regardless of the snow being predicted for Saturday night, I had to go to the grocery store. Not because I worry about being snowed in for weeks without food or water, but because I was out of a few things. I brought a friend along with me and we set out on our errands. Our first stop was to get a shovel because I did not have one if you can believe that. Then we braved the crowded grocery store. When we were finally ready to check out, we noticed the lines were exceptionally long, going down aisles and around corners. People were pushing carts packed with groceries. I just don't understand why people go crazy if there's going to be a storm. They suddenly run out to buy canned goods and bottled water. It's a snow storm, people. There is no need to head for the fall out shelters with your duct tape.

Back in 1978 there was a blizzard here in the Boston area known appropriately enough, as the "Blizzard of 78". To this day people still talk about it. I have no real memory of it but there is photographic evidence that I was there - me wearing a red snowsuit standing next to a snow bank that towered over my head and the head of my dad who was standing with me. I will therefore tell you what I have heard from others about the Blizzard of 78. The highways turned into parking lots, people were stuck in their cars for hours, people slept places like work and school, and the entire area came to a complete standstill for at least a week. Now keep in mind, this was back in the day before cell phones so try to imagine being stuck in your car on the highway for hours as the snow started to bury you and there was no way you could call for help. Scary stuff indeed. Plus, people couldn't leave their houses and get to grocery stores. I don't know what caused everything to shut down so entirely. That storm brought 27 inches of snow. Saturday we got 24 inches. Maybe there weren't enough plows back then? Regardless, I can imagine that if someone lived through that storm (and actually remembered it) they might feel the urge to run to the grocery store for survival supplies. But carts packed to the brim? Does that make sense? It was like they were shopping for a whole month.

And speaking of survival supplies, the next stop for my friend and I was the video store where we waited in a line that was even longer and moving even slower. At one point I turned to my friend and observed "you know, we've been in this line since time began." She replied, "I know, I'm so hungry!" And I responded with, "well, I'm afraid we're going to have to start eating each other soon." Luckily, that was not to be. We got out of the video store, got something to eat, and eventually I ended up home safe and sound with plenty of food and movies to wait out the storm. Stay tuned for my next entry entitled, "weekend storm: the aftermath" where I describe what happened next!

2005-01-21T10:52:00.000-05:00

I read this book about animal consciousness and the whole time I was thinking of my fish. I've heard people say some strange things about fish like, they have no long term memory past seven seconds. I think that's completely ridiculous. For one thing, how would anyone know the memory span of a fish? Is there any way to measure that?

But no one can tell me my fish are not smart. Anytime anyone walks over to their tank they swim away and hide. When I walk over to their tank they swim to the surface and start looking for food. They get all excited and start swimming fast to the place that opens for food to be dropped in. This all happens before I even reach for the food. Those fish recognize me.

My coworker said, "oh it must be your long hair". What? That's almost as silly as the seven second memory. I have no doubt in my mind that animals can sense people on a whole different level beyond sight recognition. For example, how does a dog start to get excited when his owner is a block away headed home? There are countless examples of things like this and they are not based on hair style. It's more like intuition or a sixth sense or something.

So, while I do believe there are highly complex processes taking place in my fishes minds, I don't think they are going, "Hmmm... who's that approaching our tank? Wait a minute, big smile as though she's happy to see us, and... long brown hair... ooooh, I know! It's that girl who feeds us!" Right and they also have parties on the weekends when no one's here.

2005-01-19T16:23:00.000-05:00

The other night I had a dream that there was a new law being enforced. Everyone had to wear helmets during meals because plates are dangerous. Well, if you started to argue with your dining companion and they were to suddenly jump up and smash their plate over your head, that might hurt right? Right. Anyway, I felt resentful over always having to show up at dinner in a helmet (which by the way, resembled bike helmets rather than the kind construction workers wear), so I decided to try to design plates made out of rubber that could be used instead. Rubber plates would simply bounce off a person's head and probably wouldn't cause any lasting damage. Don't even get me started on silverware.

2005-01-17T09:38:00.000-05:00

Read my blog - now with Jennifer Aniston's nipple! I laughed right out loud when I saw that someone found this page using the search term "Jennifer Aniston's nipple". I don't believe I've ever mentioned Jennifer Aniston here, let alone her nipple. Or any nipple for that matter.

I do love Jennifer Aniston though - in a purely platonic way which in no way involves her nipple. I once saw an interview with her where she was asked, "do you Google yourself?" and she said, "um... do I what??" at which point both she and the interviewer started laughing. So Jennifer, if you happen to Google yourself and find this page, get in touch. We could be great friends. We could go shopping and do each other's hair and not talk about guys because who needs them when we are self-empowered women with successful acting careers? Well, some of us are anyway.

I must confess that I am not upset over her break up with Mr. Pitt. You see, now she is 35 with no children and will have to start from square one in the relationship department. And she chose her career over everything else! My religious cousins would be shocked. You go Jennifer! You and your nipple!

2005-01-12T16:20:00.000-05:00

I'm really worried about something right now. What I am worrying about is not important, rather I wanted to convey how I'm feeling so you will understand why I am distracted today and not focused enough to write something clever or amusing. I promise I will tell you what's bothering me once it's resolved and become a complete story but it won't help to hash it all out before then. Needless to say, as per usual, I have myself worked up - stomach in knots, etc, etc.

There are a couple of bright spots in my mind however, one of which I can't go into detail about because it's work related. Apparently, I'm just all about not sharing today. This story as well will be explained in detail but requires the creativity to alter the information to protect the privacy of those involved.

The second happy thing is that I have found a new hobby. And yes, it is another hobby shared with enthusiasm by older ladies (much like everything I seem drawn to). I have started to cross stitch! My mom bought me a starter kit for Christmas along with a couple other crafts to try. I was skeptical at first but once I got going with the little stitches and colored thread, I really enjoyed it. It is however, a hobby best performed with the tv on. I'm sure it could start to feel tedious without music or television. I am almost finished with my first design but I'm not sure what to do with it once it's done. At least with knitting, you end up with a scarf or a sweater. I will have a picture stitched onto a piece of fabric.

O.K., who else out there watches 24? I need to discuss the new season's immediate creepiness. There was no build up, we were just thrown right in with drama, fear, and moral dilemmas. I have the sense of wanting to cover my eyes and not watch, but know that I would end up peeking through my fingers anyway.

Oh! I almost forgot. I also have resolutions coming soon. I'm still working them out. In fact, once the problem referenced above has become resolved, I will be in a lot better position to work on my resolutions. And in case you were curious, the resolution stated previously to feel more thankful for electricity is only the beginning of my goals for the new year.

2005-01-10T16:32:00.000-05:00

The other night the power went out. Actually, I was on my way home and when I turned onto my street headed toward the square, it was pitch dark. I had never seen it that way. I felt like I was driving into a tunnel.

I walked up the sidewalk, fumbled for my key and let myself into my building. There was an emergency light on in the second floor hallway and a girl standing in the doorway of a dark apartment. "The power is out," she so helpfully informed me as I passed. There was no emergency hallway light on my floor.

Entering my apartment, I literally had to fight the urge to reach for the light switch. It's funny how some things are so automatic. Unfortunately, it was even darker inside my apartment and I had no idea where to find a flashlight or matches or a lighter. I started frantically groping around in drawers and on surfaces but came up with nothing. This went on for about ten minutes until I realized that without light, I wasn't going to find a thing. I had to shine the blue glow of my cellphone into the back of a drawer to finally locate a pack of matches.

I lit a bunch of candles and brought them into the bathroom so I could take a shower. It would've been romantic if I hadn't been so aggravated. I then brought about 50 candles into my room and put them on the nighttable so I could read in bed. It was freezing because my hair was wet and the heat wasn't working and even the small fire glowing beside me gave only a dim light to read by. I felt like I was living in colonial times.

After about half an hour the power came back and I was so happy. I cranked up the heat, turned on some lights, turned on the television, and said right out loud, "I love you, Electricity!"

It's amazing how much we take for granted. Honestly, what can you do at night if the power is out? How did people not die of sheer boredom in the 1800's or whenever it was that they didn't have electricity? And is there something that hasn't yet been discovered that hundreds of years from now people will say, "My god, how did people not die of sheer boredom in the 2000's?" Probably but for now I'll be happy with my primitive internet and my simplistic cable television and my age old forced air heating system and the warm glow of a well lit room and 8000 other modern conveniences that run on good old electricity. (New Year's resolution # 1: feel more thankful for electricity.)

2005-01-05T16:22:00.000-05:00

I spent some time watching the Twilight Zone marathon over New Year's. I don't know which was more creepy, the episode with the talking doll or the point at which my roommate said, "what's the Twilight Zone?" I love those old episodes. They truly are the best part of New Year's.

And speaking of the Twilight Zone, there was a large family party at my uncle's house on New Year's Day. You may remember this group from my cousin's wedding. The reason I make the Twilight Zone comparison is because any other group of young people between the ages of 22 - 27 would not ALL be married and a majority of that group would not be married AND have children. However, in the surreal environment of my extremely religious extended family, I am the odd one out because I am 29, unmarried, and childless. Twice I was asked by older relatives about my marriage prospects and when I explained that I was personally not ready to make that kind of commitment, nor did I want to settle due to societal expectations and pressures, I caught various young, girl cousins looking over and listening in. All the more evidence for me that they must speculate amongst themselves why I am different.

Every time I am with these people I end up feeling bad. I feel bad that my father pulled us out of the fold when I was a child resulting in my discomfort at being always on the outskirts. I feel bad that we are not closer, especially my girl cousins who are near my age, but we have nothing in common. I feel bad that they (probably) look down on me because I am single and not religious. But mostly I feel bad that I am affected in such a way by these differences and perceptions that I end up actively feeling bad about myself (rather than passively or occasionally).

I know it seems silly - why should I feel bad about myself? I normally would not let other people's judgements bother me. But these are my young cousins who once looked up to me and now they've all moved on ahead. I feel like I have fallen from some height in their eyes. And while I know that I am honestly not ready to get married or have children and content myself with this knowledge on a regular basis, being around all these happy little young families makes me wonder if I will ever have these things. During these encounters the constant internal dialogue says just a little louder, "I'm getting old, I'm getting nowhere."

At least I can take comfort in the fact that their little Stepford lives would make a very creepy episode of the Twilight Zone.

2005-01-03T16:27:00.000-05:00

Is it just me or is New Year's Eve not such a big deal anymore? I don't know if it lost it's importance after the millennium or what. People seem to feel all this pressure to go out and do something special, most likely involving alcohol and staying up until midnight to watch the ball drop on tv and say "yay, it's a new year!" even though it won't be a new year in some areas for another couple hours.

What's so fun about going out on a cold night when every place is crowded with drunk people? And where is there to go? A bar? A party where you have to make small talk with strangers? Those things just aren't that important to me. I'm just as happy to stay in my cozy apartment with some champagne and the television. I've spent far too many New Year's Eves trying to meet some vague expectations which somehow involve the implication that the way you spend New Year's Eve is a precursor to the year ahead and what it will bring. That just isn't true. Believe me, my New Year's Eves have never had much affect on my subsequent year.

I'm also not sure I buy into the whole significance of the changing of calendar years. I find myself much more reflective on my birthday. The year suddenly changing isn't infused with deeper meaning for me, nor does it compell me to want to set impossible goals for myself. I guess I sound like the grinch who stole New Year's but I wasn't always this way.

I think it was NYE 1994 that I went to an Aerosmith concert. The very next year I was in a car full of people at the stroke of midnight, driving around looking for something to do. One year during high school, I went to First Night in Boston. It was cold and crowded. We were wearing layers of clothes so we wouldn't have to wear coats. On top of my layers I had on a black sweater. I was happily eating fried dough with powdered sugar on top but it was really windy - do you see where this is going? At midnight as the fireworks were going off I ended up kissing some guy. I don't think I ever caught his name.

In 96 or 97 I went to a party where I had to listen to some doomsday fanatic talking about how we only had a couple years left. It got to the point where I would dread New Year's Eve because it was that much closer to the end. It sounds silly now. But so does the whole Y2K panic. I spent NYE 2000 at my parents' house because I was so terrified that all technology and life as we know it was going to come to a grinding halt. Now that was a momentous New Year's.

In 2001 I was deathly ill with asthmatic bronchitis. I fell asleep on the couch and my roommate woke me up to see the ball drop and I passed right out again. For NYE 2002 I went to another party where I didn't know more than a couple people. And at midnight everyone was hugging each other like old friends. In 2003, falling into the trap of feeling like I had to do something because it was New Year's Eve, I went out with a friend to a local dive bar where we got hit on by some extremely drunk guys. I came home that night to find my roommate watching tv. She hadn't gone out at all and had a swell time just relaxing by herself. I've taken a cue from her ever since. How did you spend New Year's Eve?

2004-12-28T16:29:00.000-05:00

I'm not quite sure what to tell you about Christmas because apparently discussing my family and their special quirks in my own personal space is somehow offensive to them, even though my readers do not know them and therefore, does it really matter what opinions you form about them? No, I don't think so either, but like I said, some anonymous people who may or may not be related to me might find my stories one sided, fabricated, and let's not forget offensive.

Not that there is anything bad to report about Christmas per se, everyone was generally polite to each other. However, I may be accused of offending someone if I tell you that I am shocked by the fact that my parents allow my 20 year old sister's boyfriend to sleep over. In her bed. I am merely stating my personal opinion of a factual statement, just so we're clear. Last I checked, people were allowed to have opinions and to state them while protecting the privacy of the parties involved. So remember, if you formulate an opinion of my family from this information I will add the disclaimer that my family is a wonderful group of individuals whose many qualities I usually do not choose to highlight here because it just wouldn't make for as much interesting and humorous entertainment. I could tell you how precious my sister is for making personalized place tags for everyone at the table and bringing me a bottle of soda from the kitchen when I was too lazy to get up and get it myself. But I would much prefer to spotlight the twisted fact that my parents allow her boyfriend to sleep over. In her bed.

I hope I'm not inadvertantly insulting anyone if I tell you that my brother, who as I've mentioned before is a very funny person - not an opinion, but a known fact, had us laughing over his descriptions of his quite-possibly-closeted-gay roommate in California. Not that there's anything wrong with that, as they say on Seinfeld. And speaking of Seinfeld, if you ordered the first two seasons on dvd as a Christmas gift for someone and paid extra money to have it delivered in time for Christmas and it didn't show up in time, what would you do? I'm just asking.

Anyway, I rarely laugh as hard as I do around my brother and it makes me sad that he lives so far away but I am happy that he is happy and especially that he is extremely happy with the weather out west (he arrived here the night that it felt like 20 below with windchill and when he left California it was in the 70's.) I am not so happy about the fact that we got an unexpected foot of snow the day after Christmas, but that's beside the point.

I'd like to tell you that my mother did an amazing job cooking not one, but three separate Christmas feasts. Does that offend anyone? Anyone? So anyway food was the major focus of the holidays and judging purely by my family, if I were asked what the true meaning of Christmas is I would tell you it is food. But, oops! Sorry, that might not be very polite of me to say. I should also be honest and add that gifts are a major factor as well.

With my roommate gone for the weekend I told my parents I had to be heading home because there is something I like to do when I am alone in the apartment. This made them look at me with eyebrows raised and when I explained, "I like to play music and sing along really loudly," they said that wasn't too bad of a guilty pleasure. Gee, I wonder what they thought I meant? Surely not to sleep in the same bed with my 20 year old boyfriend. Just kidding, I don't have a 20 year old boyfriend - ewwww, that's way too young for me. But not apparently, for my 20 year old sister so let's not start forming negative opinions of 20 year old boyfriends, o.k.?

The real Christmas miracle will be if I can make it through this post without causing anyone any unintended stress and upset. Because really, I don't mean offense to anyone. Everyone has a crazy family. If you can't laugh about it, well what's the point?

2004-12-23T13:45:00.000-05:00

You know how some people send letters with their Christmas cards? Those generic, typed pages with the first name handwritten next to "Dear__________"? You know how those letters are usually focused on telling all of their friends and loved ones what a wonderful year they've had and what amazing accomplishments their kids have made and how they want everyone to share in the joy of the Christmas spirit? Well, I was thinking, wouldn't it be funny if I sent a Christmas letter along with my Christmas cards this year? It would go something like this.

Dear Friends, Loved Ones, and Loyal Readers,

This year has been very similar to last year. I am still working at the same job, the job I promised myself I would not stay at too long because it's not the best career move. But speaking of career moves, I am on the verge of turning 30 and still absolutely clueless as to what I'd like to spend my life doing. You know, just in case you were wondering. And while we're talking about jobs, I have no money and I'm in debt and I can't escape the nasty letters and phone calls of my creditors. It's awfully depressing but hey, I try not to let it get me down.

Speaking of being down, I did recieve a religious tract from an anonymous peephole blocking psychopath recently. It seems that the answer to all my problems is to find the Lord. It seems that if I don't, I'm on the short road to hell where I'm guessing there are no exciting jobs or lucrative debt forgiveness offers.

Also during the last few months I discovered that I have astronomically high cholesterol and the advice I was given by my doctor is to "watch your diet and exercise" and also to "find the Lord". Since that time I have done very little to further my physical or spiritual health but I have been eating cheerios or oatmeal every morning and that's something right?

I have had some fun in the form of finding activities I enjoy, which are also enjoyed widely by ladies my mother's age. These new pursuits include water aerobics, painting ceramics, and my beloved book club. I have also been the recipient of many an invitation to the sample sales upstairs which have resulted in a fabulous new wardrobe as well as another justification for staying in the same old job.

At work I have endured a year's worth of dreaded weekly meetings and a hundred thousand copier scam phone calls. Worse than all of this however, was my home life during the beginning of the summer. My roommate waged an all out air conditioning war with me only to be defeated by the fact that she moved out and a nice new roommate moved in. Ha!

Anyway, all in all I can't complain. I hope you will all share in the joy of the Christmas spirit.

Happy Holidays everyone!

2004-12-21T08:47:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the lack of recent posts, it's hard to be think creatively when it's so darn cold. It is in the single digits here today and the whole way to work there was ice on my windshield that didn't melt. Needless to say, I am not amused.

Sidenote: someone found my site with the search phrase "how do I let a coworker know I am interested?" Believe me people, despite what google may think, I am not the go-to person for this. My best advice? Stay away from romantic liasons involving coworkers. Just stay away.

And in other news: since I do not have a digital camera (are you listening Santa? That was a hint) and so many people have expressed an interest in seeing the scary tissues, here's what I will do for you. It is the season for giving and if you email me your address I will send you your very own box of scary tissues in honor of the holidays. After all, I have a whole carton of them.