delicioso!!!

You will not believe what I just did. I sent an e-mail to the boss saying I had to leave early for an "appointment". (Everyone else here does it all the time, so why can't I???)

Anyway, I'm not even telling Tom that I'm at home now, at 3 p.m.! I'm going to lie back on the bed, put on my pajama-pants, and finish reading my current book.

No one (except you, my friends) knows where I am right now or what I am doing.

It is such a delicious feeling I could JUST DIE!!!



xoxoxoxo moi

melancholy and sorry

Got the keys last night, and the parentals have been talking to Tom about driving down (from Portland). They'll arrive on Monday.

(As I mentioned, my father is very excited about painting with Tom. We are supposed to be out by the 15th, so there's plenty of time to move and prepare.)

So. As Tom & I walked around those empty rooms last night, congratulating ourselves on the new keys, I felt an enormous melancholy weighing down on me. I am careful about showing it though, as Tom has been very sensitive to anything he construes as a negative remark about the condo. (And I would rather die before ever making him feel bad.)

But as nice as the place is, as much as I like it, I am sad to leave our neighborhood here on Geary Street. I know the Mission is only about two-miles away... I know. I know this is a new building, it is polished, clean... it is the nicest place I ever lived in my whole life.

But I love our old building here on the edge of downtown, the theatre-district, the Tenderloin. I love the circular bedroom and all the overlays on the walls, the intimate views from the windows, and all the weird hidden cabinets (it used to be a hotel in the olden-days).

Plus, lots of memories. We've lived here about four years I think... (In fact, we met for the first time ever in the lobby of the next-door building. I had been living in a little studio apartment there for a year after moving from Boston.)

 

I am also apprehensive about the parental-visit. I mean, I already never have any time to myself except for when I enclose myself in the bathroom in the mornings. And they will all be here, watching everything... not in a scrutinizing way exactly, but just like family does.

I am so stupid to complain.

It is just also so very hard for me to be around people who have been so NICE to me in my life. So continuously. Both Tom and my mom-&-dad. So nice and good to me no matter how often I have fucked-up, no matter how terrible I have treated them... They keep freakin' coming back and being so freakin' nice I don't know how to act, what to do...

(But what do I want? To just be alone all the time? For them not to want to come and help? For me not to have Tom? NO. Definitely NOT!!!)

It's just, you cannot repay something like that. So I feel so goddamn terrible all the time. How do you tell them you don't take it for granted? ALL the time, I just get so uncomfortable.

I know how many things are wrong with this statement, but: If Tom would just hit me or something, or be cruel, I would understand and be used to it. (Again, I realize all that is wrong with that.) But I can't help it. At least I would then be able to carry myself, be familiar with how to act and what to feel. I don't know how to explain it.

I am lonely.

a very crucial assignment

At 3:00 p.m. I am given Very Important Assignment: Must pick up Tom's dry-cleaning after work. Tom won't be out in time before the shop (across street from our apt.) closes at 7:00 p.m.

Absolutely crucial as he desires his Special Suit for a Very Important Meeting tomorrow.

 

3:05 p.m.

ALERT! Post-It note anxiously made; pasted onto purse.

3:10 p.m.

Note moved INSIDE purse.

3:11 p.m.

Note taped to apartment key instead.

4:00 p.m.

Note accidentally defaced by open lipstick.

4:01 p.m.

SHIT! MUST HUNT FOR NEW POST-ITS!!

4:02 p.m.

SHIT! Boss calls meeting. Cross fingers for full half-hour.

4:31 p.m.

Sneak to supply-closet for notes while O.M. is in restroom. Open cabinet only to find pens, and a signed Backstreet Boys publicity photo.

4:31 p.m.

O.M. returns! Captured!! I perform Jedi-mind-trick and distract him by complimenting his new up-do. We discuss bangs for ten minutes, and I take the elevator back up, thinking about sideburns.... Then I remember I am supposed to remember something. Concentrate!

4:35 p.m.

Steal Post-It from goth-boy's desk, but cannot find tape; simply stick it to keys.

4:45 p.m.

Worried.

5:01 p.m.

As safeguard, repeat the words "DRY-CLEANING!" over and over in head, while riding bus towards home.

5:30 p.m.

Decide to buy groceries first; walk to Larkin market. (With good intentions -- Produce! Salad! Veggies! Yes.)

5:35 p.m.

Hmmm... curry... maybe should get Indian instead. Or Thai? Hmmmm... Veggie burrito!! Burrito it is.

5:45 p.m.

Stand in burrito-Nazi line on Sutter. Practice how to order so as not to anger burrito-lady.

5:45 p.m.

ALERT!! NOTE DISLODGED! SITUATION DESPERATE! Cross fingers instead. Concentrate! Think 'James Bond'! Think 'Agent 99'!!

5:50 p.m.

YAR this burrito is HEAVY! Starving. Walk home to Geary.

5:52 p.m.

Lonely.

6:00 p.m.

Fat pants are ON! What is my Neflix today... "Ecstasy"!! Yay.

6:15 p.m.

Hedy Lamarr.

6:30 p.m.

Hedy Lamarr.

6:45 p.m.

God... must exercise overtime in the morning.

7:05 p.m.

Stuffed. Must take out trash.

7:06 p.m.

Find Post-It note stuck to floor near shoes.

7:07 p.m.

Shit.

monday blues

No luck with that second interview. Again, was a non-profit; and again, I could not accept their offer/interest to come in, due to salary restrictions. Sometimes it is not that great to have so much on your resumé.

I have been depressed but it is another week, and I am trying to remain hopeful. Hope to find something I will enjoy that will still adhere to all logic involved (i.e. as per husband, as per logic, as per everything I do not logically follow).

BLAH. Blah. Blah blah blah I hate it hate it hate it hate this scenario.

I have nothing to write; quite glum.

 

Packed my books into boxes this weekend, no that we have much stuff at ALL. But Tom wanted to have something done. Oh so sad to see those empty shelves, even though temporary...

Also giving-away my special Elvis posters and album-shots to neighbors in the building (I think they are going to use them for the frames). So sad to see them piled against the wall. I have to show my loyalty, I guess. They are just things, anyway, right? Doesn’t mean anything. Just things. I wouldn’t like it if he had posters up of Greta Garbo or Cameron Diaz or someone like that, would I? I have to be fair. But why am I so sad!!

 

Will be checking Craigslist for more jobs this week.

moving along...

Thank Elvis in heaven, it is done. Signed our final docs at the title company last night, and I'll be sending off a big check today.

We'll get our keys sometime next week; however, won't officially move from our apartment until October 15th.

My father is chomping-at-the-bit to help Tom paint; my mom to help organize the cabinets. They are calling us Sunday to arrange a (elongated) visit... Oh we do appreciate the help, but it's going to be a rough month...

So I just went into debt for... get ready for it!!!... more than SIX HUNDRED THOUSAND dollars. (I like to spell-out the number; it appears more literary than mathematical that way.)

At least I will be for the next four or five years anyway, till we move again! Until then, won't be paying much more per month than rent cost, so that makes me feel very grown-up. (Or at least my full 36-years-worth.)

 

Interview #1 this week just called, and though they wanted to bring me in, they can't match my current salary. Under different circumstances I would have taken it regardless; but, you know... So I have another today at 11:00. Dunno. Is another non-profit. So we'll see.

Still haven't mentioned either to Tom. He never needs to know, I guess.

I feel so trapped sometimes. But I must remember how lucky I am.

Also thinking about my trip to see R. (that I went on about here so much). This is, of course, completely down the tubes, due to the delays of our closing/move.

I don't see how I can bring this up to Tom now. I don't even think it will happen till next year now. Even then... very touchy.

 

My friends, hope you all have a fabulous weekend!!

embarrassing start to the day

Very embarrassing start to the day, really...

During my run this morning, I started crying for no reason... just cried and sobbed, in the dark, in solitary, atop Nob Hill... Had to walk the route instead. But upon arriving home, I was Complete Picture of Calm.

 

First phone-interview went well yesterday -- holed-myself up in an empty conference room and scoring an in-person interview seemed to be in the bag. But: The guy wanted to check first if they could meet my current salary. (I couldn't go below; that would really be unwise considering Tom's opinions of the whole thing.)

I never said anything to Tom either, about the call... Unecessary I think unless something actually happens. (Maybe even if something happens, I still shouldn't say anything!! Ha. Just start working somewhere new, maybe let him know in a year, when he suddenly wonders why the logo on my corporate-sponsored coffee mug has changed.)

Have one more (phone) interview tomorrow. Since both are non-profits (my wish-jobs, of course) I don't have much hope due to this salary/career-dilemma with Tom...

 

More embarrassing: While deep into my book this morning, was interrupted by the bellow of the bus driver: "RED!!! Isn't this your stop?"

Arrgh. Thank you. Could have ended up at the Ferry Building.

Nice to be noticed, I guess...

work is getting worse

My unhappiness at work is getting worse. I just dread each day and it is affecting my mood enormously. Though I love the company, take pride in its publications, my responsibilities have NOT matched my job-description, and are getting worse.

 

It wasn't something I could talk about because we were planning our loan, our move -- obviously not an appropriate time to switch jobs. But our closing-date is now finally upon us, and we'll be moving within the next couple weeks.

When I tried to bring it up with Tom about a month ago, he strongly voiced his disapproval... i.e.: I am too impatient; Most people hate their jobs; I should stay at least a year (February); It looks bad even if our loan already went through (?)...

It was so embarassing I have been trying not to speak about it again.

But, what did I do: In a burst of depression, I sent my resume to a couple places last week, and they immediately contacted me. I have a phone interview today and Friday.

So this past Sunday at brunch, I totally lied to Tom, tried to just mention I was just "talking with a company who found my old resume on Monster and wanted to call". He was so displeased, made such a big deal over how stupid it was to do that at this time, I started crying at the table.

I said I just don't think I can wait till February to look... That I just wanted to talk to them, and it would be something I would enjoy much more -- more editorial/production/etc., instead of all this hellish programming.

And I said "You told me I could tell you when things got bad. Well I'm telling you now. It is bad."

And he basically told me to go ahead, alarmed at my tears I suppose, but I can tell he is not happy about it at all, and thinks it is NOT SMART.

 

Maybe I am too impatient... Maybe this isn't very smart. And I know there is always something dislikeable about any job. And I know it doesn't look good on a resume to switch jobs so fast.

And I know it was wrong to lie (by saying they initiated the contact)... I feel so guilty, like I did something underhanded...

But I just don't see the harm in talking to these companies; it's not certain I would get the job anyway, of course.

Interviewing is scary enough for me without having that fear of what Tom thinks. I just want him to be proud of me. But I cannot seem to say no to this.

dramas of a software engineer

Ahhh, the drama... Our building's Internet connection went down for three hours yesterday, resulting in sporadic displays of the following:

• Software-Engineer-humor; i.e. "It was me - I broke the Internet!"; "I came to the last page of the Internet!"; "I got to the end of the Internet and tried to go further!"... Oh the guffaws that followed. Poor 'lil peeps.
  
• A few sightings of those who usually rely only on Instant Messaging, never face-to-face contact. These unfamiliar faces were seen slinking around, hugging the walls in futility.
  
• A butt-crack here and there was spotted as Operations (also rarely seen) attempted friendly discourse by perching atop desks and printer tables.
  
• The O.M. speed-walking furiously up & down the hall, just scowling in hopelessness at it all... (I think with no other purpose than to do something furiously; I swear he just went from side of the room to the other, repeatedly.)
  
• Engineering-Management-humor (or was it?): i.e. "Only our internal workings matter!"; "This is confidential until earnings are published!"; "I better not see anyone Googling this later!"...
  
• Numerous people flying gleefully about the carpet on scooters and skateboards, thrilled to the point of blushing.
  
• Someone found a stash of feather boas (probably where they found the stash of cardboard heiress-figures, who knows)... Pretty much everyone is wearing one now, including Fabio (a cardboard figure, of course).
  
• A couple of the very serious fellows simply sat at their desks, reading their O'Reilly's handbooks ("Java Hardcore!", "Code Craft!", "Linux Unveiled!", etc.)...
  

I myself sat covertly reading Liane De Pougy's Blue Notebook memoirs, pleading immunity.

(I did, however, find myself with a hot-pink boa around my neck... They thought me worthy of the pink one! They can be so sweet sometimes...)

love me! take me!

Sometimes, as uneasy and false as it may feel, I am just filled with such rage at Tom, I despise any contact with him, my head explodes, fuming with "I HATE HIM!! Hate HATE HATE HIM!!"

But sometimes, as silly and psuedo-demeaning as it may be, I am filled with such need to just TOUCH him, just feel his arm, I crave his contact, to be in the same room as him, have him take care of me... "I LOVE HIM!!! Love LOVE LOVE HIM!!"

But either way, love-or-hate, I will often be walking on a crowded sidewalk, market-aisle, subway entrance, and will have this sudden, heart-wrenching feeling that the figure beside me is HIM!! In just that passing second I feel the most dramatic urge to turn and grab that person...

A figure matching Tom's height passes on my left - Tom! It's him! A man with a jacket like Tom's passes on my right... I have to stop myself from running and jumping.

It's HIM! I want to grab him, hug him, LOVE ME! TAKE ME! It's YOU!

And of course it's not ever him.

Later at home in bed, I will remember this all with embarassment, and never tell him about it.

happy friday!

Quite often, I think about what Edith Wharton once wrote, in a letter to her lover:

"There would have been the making of an accomplished flirt in me, because my lucidity shows me each move of the game -- but that, in the same instant, a reaction of contempt makes me sweep all the counters off and board and cry out: 'Take them all -- I don't want to win -- I want to lose everything to you!'"

 

Arrrgh. Can't wait to get outside, away from this desk. It is Friday! And it is Date Night! Hooray.

Hope you all have a grand and fabulous weekend, my friends!!
– xoxoxo moi

questions

Sitting here at my desk (doing extensive work of course), my mind's soundtrack is intermittently switching between "Can't Smile Without You" and "Fernando".

(You know, I think I really could smile at a 'Fernando'... someone my mind usually conjures to look quite a bit like Elvis... I mean, Tom... I said 'Tom'!!!)

Now, as I do my extensive work, I am wondering...

• If basically only one person knows I exist (i.e. Tom, whose walked-upon ground I worship of course), plus my 'blog' friends (i.e. You-All, who I greatly treasure & love, of course)... Plus maybe a bus-driver and a liquor-store owner here & there... Do I really exist?
  
  
• If all you do is immerse yourself in books and old movies and old music all day long, do you really exist?
  
  
• If you have lost your young, vibrant, fun, exciting, popular, crazy, sexy, beautiful self, and grown into an old, shy, wrinkled, reformed-whore type of a woman, do you really exist?
  
  
• If you attempt to keep some sort of integrity about yourself by doing volunteer work with children after your real job every day, and sometimes secretly wish you were instead at home asleep or on vacation on a remote island, or wish you were still a child yourself, do you really exist?
  
  
• If you cannot take a compliment from men who hoot at you in public, men who may be sincere, but you still shoot lasers at them from your eyes and then feel like crap, do you really exist?
  
  
• If you eat an entire bag of rice cakes in one sitting, is it still a low-fat snack or have you negated the entire purpose and should have just gotten the pizza you so desired in the first place?

loungin' on a wednesday

Nothing much to report today... blah. Maybe I'll just note some things going on around me:

• Upon leaving this morning, I noticed someone graffiti-ed our apartment building with the words "I Heart Abba Rock". (And the word 'heart' was spelled-out, not the actual symbol.) Does this simply mean what it says? Or is it some kind of gang-code? Does it hide some kind of dark, ironic message? Or does someone just 'heart' "Dancing Queen"?...
  
• Goth-boy in the next cube is still extolling on his Burning Man exploits (again! a WEEK later!). Each sentence is punctated with the phrase: "At least when I ran into ___(insert co-worker name here)___ I was fully clothed!"
  
• My screen is filled with Java errors, each of which I will go through one-by-one, a harrowing experience that will inflict even more wrinkles onto my skin.
  
• The sun is shining through the window, and I can hear the daily hoots from the sea lions.
  
• I can also hear sirens & hullabaloo across the street; we suspect someone tried to rob Starbucks, not sure yet...
  
• I am seriously wondering how a person goes about creating a new identity... (Still haven't closed on the condo, so I have all this $$$ in limbo at the moment). What do you do? Ask the nearest homeless guy where to obtain a fake passport? Does SF have a mob I'm supposed to talk to? (A flamboyant, eco-friendly mobster perhaps, who, with just a bit of politeness and maybe a compliment on his blue-jeans, would send me on my anonymous way to the Mexican Riviera?)
  
• There is a huge controversy going on here about our next company-outing... Will it be bowling again? A club? The wharf? Angel Island? This has been going on for months. (Apparently, the ongoing argument has to do with perceived infractions of behavior on the part of local business owners... One, for example, used to make fun of Anna Nicole. Another used to spit on the sidewalk. One person didn't have the right sort of voicemail-recording.) Very complicated.
  
• I'm wondering what to eat for dinner later... (Yes, already; this breakfast rice-cake just makes me more hungry.) And in a guilty, hidden part of my brain, I am also trying to coordinate what & when I eat with what kind of mood Tom is in... Should I abstain from stuffing myself right away, and don some lingerie, in case he might want some lovin'? Or should I just eat what I want, and lounge about in his old XXL-sized "I Love Tater Tots" t-shirt... (Really, not too difficult a decision, is it.)

Tune in tomorrow for more panty-wringing excitement!! xoxoxo

scrum-off!

Ahhh, just the two of us again, sans-parentals!! Freedom.

First thing we did was remove each other's clothes and... er... get some exercise.

Then I proceeded to eat an entire pound of spaghetti (w/ whole container of parmesan), two veggie-burger patties, and a pint of ice cream.

Feelin' good.

 

So!

So one of the horrifying enriching experiences our department has been inflicting-upon treating us to is something called the "Scrum Development" process. (The term 'scrum' has to do with rugby... Interesting, I know!)

It is an extremely drawn-out, tedious process to describe... And let me tell you, I have discovered it's like an aphrodisiac to these other software engineers.

They talk and talk about all its intricacies, all its philosophies... Seems to me this incurs more meetings than actual time to get things done. (But what the fuck to I know; when I think of 'philosophy' my mind recites Walt Whitman poetry, not Java code.)

Basically, this is what "The Process" entails:

• We all meet for an entire day to map-out tasks, and assign each one a time-period, like 2 or 3 days. (We have a month to complete the 'sprint'.)
  
• We meet again to assign each person to a task(s). (I try & jump on the easiest one.)
  
• We meet each day for a few minutes to talk about our progress, and debate whether we'll make our deadline or not. (But we have to make deadline.)
  
• EVERYthing is written in complicated, intricate detail on Post-its, and applied to a whiteboard in even more intricate detail. The board also tails our progress on a chart. Additionally, each item is entered in an online tracking system. Each item is assigned a number. Each team gets a name.
  
• And at month's end, we do the whole thing over again.

It is all excruciatingly stressful, in my opinion.

Plus, there is this whole side-effect Wikipedia describes as: "Stealth mode implementations will often cause 'organizational antibodies' to form that will resist and undermine the changes."

Not exactly sure what that means, but I am CERTAIN I have been infected with 'organizational antibodies' of some kind...

Don't you wish you were here! :)

weekend recap

Yes, they have put me through rotten times. But: What parents wouldn't do that to a kid who was so rotten to them? It is difficult for me to be around them, even at age 36... it might always be. My mom & dad (despite their mind-bending irritations, their old-fashioned hang-ups) are a couple of the most kindest, generous people ever.

What can you do. But it is so hard for me to be around them. They do all these nice things, all the time. It is hard for a wretch like me, even for a 'former' wretch like me.

Like this weekend, they brought a bunch of boxes and tape for our move, so we wouldn't have to pay for them. (They drove all the way from Portland with them in their Jeep.) My father went around to the back-doors of a bunch of local businesses and hospitals, asking if they had any they were throwing out, and those people just piled them on him. (And then, of course, he returned to them with homemade cookies from my mom, in thanks.)

And my mom brought all these supplies she collects with coupons. (She is like a polite detective... detecting what brand deodorant Tom uses, what kind of mascara I like...) She plans elaborate routes with coupons, discount-cards, Costco-trips... And we end up with MASSES of toothpaste, toilet paper, soap, detergent... Like Tom and I are college students or something.

(It is all appreciated deeply, of course; I can only write about it all here because I feel like you all know what I mean. I am certainly NOT saying anything bad about them, because they are wonderful.)

 

But there are things that make me so conflicted and just want to flee... Our background. My own guilt. My private-ness... Tom & my need to be alone sometimes.

More so, sometimes they can be so against everything I believe in... (Though they would never act on or say anything about such things - in fact they never say anything at all.) I mean, for a person as free-thinking & liberal as I, it is hard NOT to counter stuff that is so bothersome... stuff bordering on the offensive. Not like they comment a lot when the news is on or anything, but certain things they say, just freak me out.

I mean they NEVER ask me about my job anymore (because as you probably remember, I work at a gay-friendly publication company). All they do all the time is fawn over Tom's work, and Tom's stuff... they never ask me about anything anymore like they used to. I don't mean to be a brat! I don't mean to sound selfish or anything. But it is so OVERTLY IGNORED, it is kind of embarrassing.

And my mom has her own hang-ups. (Not that I haven't or anything!) But she is probably now down to about 100 pounds. For her height, it is unfathomably thin. (She is about 67 now, and always proud to point out her senior-discounts everywhere.) But she goes to pilates every other day. She does yoga on tapes. She walks five miles every morning. She hardly eats anything. (Maybe part of it is because she is a dialysis nurse and sees what that obesity does to a person, but this is completely overdoing it.)

When I eat something she watches every bite go into my mouth. She once said to me "well it wouldn't hurt you to not eat for a few days." Whenever they visit I do a week-long diet beforehand, so afraid of how they see me. This week I am down to 115 pounds (I am 5'6"). I still was disappointed I was not lower. Which is terrible and TERRIBLE and terrible against what things I believe are important.

 

Well, I will stop babbling/venting. I can't go into everything, so will just stop. I wish I didn't have to be here at work today; it totally SUCKS. I NEED SOME TIME OFF. Or at least a few minutes to myself. I think the handicap-bathroom is calling.

preparation

I am sitting here at my desk, plugged-in to my iPod. It has a pink case (of course!), and the back is engraved with "Happy 5th anniversary! We made it! Love, Tom". (From 2 years ago.)

I am listening to "Perhaps" by Lila Downs, "Peaches" by the Stranglers, "Love Me" by Elvis Presley, "Early in the Mornin'" by Louis Jordan, and "You're My Thrill" by Julie London.

On my computer screen, here at work: I have an 'HTTP STATUS 500 - Java.lang.NullPointerException' error. Which I hope to solve by end of day. (Ha!)

In the fridge, back at home: I have a roasted-vegetable and merlot meatloaf, along with dijon-rosemary mashed potatoes. (For Tom & my dad, the carnivores.)

And for my mom & I: Spinach & garlic lasagne, along with a tarragon and butter-lettuce salad.

(And for all: Parmesan and parsley stuffed-mushrooms. For dessert: A sour-cream-and-pear coffeecake.)

 

I have cleaned the wood floors, the kitchen floor, the bathroom floor... I have dusted. I have scrubbed. I have bleached. I have done laundry and numerous dishes... I have oven-burns on my hand, chopped-nails, bruises on my knees, shin-splints, sore arms.

I have, however: Nair-ed my legs, Biore-ed my face, and apricot-scrubbed the rest of my skin. I have fresh mascara. I have highlighted my hair. I am wearing skinny-jeans and a push-up bra.

I even took my morning run this morning, all the way to the Marina. (Where the sea lions told me to tell you hello!)

There was also some wine left-over after cooking... but I'm not sure what happened to it... I mean, it was 6 A.M., where could it have gone? Hmmm...

You know, I should not complain so much. I feel so guilty. I am not living in Iraq or Darfur. I am an Honest Woman. I have TRUE friends. And I am in LOVE. (With someone alive this time; sorry Elvis. You will always be in my heart!)

So. SHUT UP, ME!!! Shrug off that melancholy feeling!!! Who gives a &%$#!

 

So NOW: I am awaiting 5:00 to leave work. My parents will be in the apartment by the time I get home. (I am trying to time my arrival so that Tom will have been home before me... therefore decreasing my involvement with everyone as much as possible before bedtime.)

 

Oh! Vic Damone is now singing "You're Breaking My Heart" to me.

Oh Vic, I know!! I know how it goes!!

Love ya my friends; hope you have a fabulous weekend!!! xoxoxo

rebellion

OK. I must stop being so dismal or you all might leave me. After all, as I have been told (regarding Tom anyway!) I have a "frantic fear of abandonment". So, there you go. I am a cliché. But what else is new.

 

I have (again) indulged in the guilty-pleasure of buying clothes at Old Navy. I purchased a gray trenchcoat-like rain jacket for about $30. So what!!! It is lovely - AND I can put it in the wash.

AND I am wearing it with a knee-length skirt. I know, I know: Long coats are supposed to go with short skirts, and short coats with long skirts... but I AM A REBEL!!

SO: To temper this criminal-like behavior, I have created one of my famous Shopping Lists (regarding tomorrow's aforementioned family-dinner). You're probably familiar with these by now. My list (typed, of course!) is ordered by aisles at the supermarket.

There are additional lists based on the produce markets in my neighborhood. (Everything is sub-ordered by perishability. Of course.)

And no, I have not forgotten to make a list describing the order of dishes to make, and how best to prepare certain things beforehand... I even have a brand-new pink apron (imprinted with the words "Kitchen Diva"), along with a beautiful new shade of frosty-pink lipstick as accompaniment.

(I will say I am listening to NPR radio as I cook, but will of course have the E-channel within earshot.)

Efficiency is the key.

Ahh, Rebellion! Ain't it a bitch.

screaming

My mom & dad are driving down from Portland for a visit, arriving this Friday evening and leaving Monday morning. They want to deliver a bunch of stuff they’ve been collecting for our move (boxes, painting materials, etc.).

This is very kind of them. But, needless to say, the visit is causing me gut-wrenching anxiety.

I’m sure it will all go smoothly… I am cooking dinner Friday night, we are all taking a day-trip out of the city over the weekend… etc. I guess I’m just apprehensive over being ‘under the microscope’ even more than I currently am with Tom.

I feel like I just want to die. I just don’t know what is the point… What is the point of foregoing all the things I forgo when all I get is suspicion all around anyway!!!

I get hairspray in my eye, and I get “Why are your eyes bloodshot? Have you been drinking?” I get sad at a movie and I get “What is the matter? Why are you upset?” I forget to turn on my cellphone and I get “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Where were you?” I try to explain/stick up for myself, and I get "Can't I say anything? Don't you know what you've put me through?" I stumble, I stutter, I get shy, I get forgetful… I say the wrong thing at the wrong time; I am stupid when I should be smart.

Things I forgo: Sociability. Friends. Romantic rendezvous over cocktails with Tom at a restaurant bar while we wait for a table. Saying ‘yes’ to girlfriends who ask me to do something, to go meet somewhere. Preparing for a party in our apartment; having people over. Going out. GOING OUT. VISITING FRIENDS. GRACELAND!! NEW ORLEANS!! JAZZ FESTIVAL!! FRIENDS!! PARTIES!! Staying up late; energy. Spur-of-the-moment trips to Las Vegas with Tom. Cocktails and shopping with Tom. Cuddling at lounges and clubs with Tom, socializing with others!! SOCIALIZING!

It is not my fault if guys look at me. I do not do anything wrong. It is not my fault my freckles get as red as my hair when I'm embarassed. It is NOT MY FAULT.

Well… let me tell you this: I am doing laundry tonight. I am cleaning tomorrow night. I am cooking Friday night for everyone. Saturday we will drive around, go to a restaurant, and then go home. And all throughout I will be screaming in my head. I will be dying a little bit more each minute.

I am tired of punishing myself, and of being punished. How many years is it going to take for me to be forgiven for the past?

I wish I could have some time alone. I wish I could go on a trip where I can be alone just for a few days, in blissful anonymity… just a few days!

i make myself disappear!

One book I'm reading at the moment is Rameau's Niece, by Cathleen Schine. The main character, Margaret, talks about her husband Edward:

"Edward was wonderful, it was true, but sometimes his wonder weighed heavily."

This struck me as overwhelmingly succint in describing what I have been feeling over the past few years...

She also writes:

"Edward told her that her appalling memory was cleansing, that she came to everything fresh, and so it was a virtue. But he was wrong. A poor memory robs a person of dignity, Margaret knew."

Another moment during which I was struck with such familiarity at her feelings... I myself am constantly forgetful (now, not when I was younger of course)... Others sometimes find this 'cute', but I find it really does rob me of any signs of intelligence (and I need all of them I can get!).

Margaret later observes of herself: "She had some standing in the world, but none of it had been achieved at dinner parties" where she would usually sit "paralyzed and mute".

I feel as if I am disappearing with every year that passes. I have to believe that things WILL get better. I always looked forward to growing older; I have got to turn things around.