I sat down at my computer this morning to check my email before heading out to work, and noticed that I had messages from both of my parents. They had both sent me a link to the same article from the Oregonian, so despite my rush to get out the door, I took a look at the page they sent.

It was the review of my sister’s new cd, “Despite the Crushing Weight of Gravity” and it’s a pretty terrific review.

Marty Hughley says,

Her voice is clear and sweet, recalling at times Suzanne Vega or Dirty Martini’s McKinley, and even — when she opts for a slip-and-slide sort of phrasing popular with young female folkies these days — Ani DiFranco.

I may be the proudest big sister you’ll find these days. Raina’s talent and her ability to translate that talent into a tangible piece of art, awes and amazes me. She is driven and passionate and I admire those traits in her greatly. Plus, I just love her buckets and am filled with joy to see her succeed.

If the review peaks your interest, and you want to get your hands on this cd, scoot on over to CD Baby and get yourself a copy. Just search for Raina Rose. And remember that name!

Last christmas, thanks to my parents, I joined the ranks of the white-strings-in-ears zombies that seem to roam everywhere these days. I love my pod, and frequently wish I had gotten one with a larger memory, because I’m close to hitting my 5000 song wall and I’m nowhere near having all I want on there.

But recently, I came to the conclusion that my pod is possessed. My understanding of the possession came slowly. I would put it on pause and walk away for several minutes, expecting it to still be paused on the same song when I returned. But the song and the play mode would have shifted. After this happened several times, I saw a pattern. It always reverted to the same cd. I was on the trolley the other morning, mid-song, when it seemed to skip, as an old record on a turn table would, and the song “Fine, Fine, Fine” started playing, the dulcet tones the incomparable Raina Rose (who also happens to be my younger sister) coursing into my ears. It seems the spirt of my (very much alive) schvester has taken hold of my iPod. I’m not sure what to do about this, but I don’t really think it’s all that bad. It’d be really cool if she was somehow tied to the pod, so that when she started thinking about me, her music spontaneously took hold of the pod’s hard drive. Probably it’s just a glitch, but if I have to have a glitch, I’m glad it picked my sister’s music to glitch on.

Glitch on, my rock star sister!

I had a rough start to my morning today. I got to work a little late, sat at my computer for an hour and then heading out across campus to attempt obtain the black access key that will actually allow me to get into the suite that contains my office. I wasn’t the most cheerful person as I trudged along, but then something fun and terrific happened. I glanced up an there, walking towards me was a friendly face. He was the first person I’ve run into randomly in this new job world, and it totally turned the tide of my morning. I wasn’t able to get my hands on the black access key, but it didn’t matter. When you are experiencing as many things as I have been lately, it’s really remarkable what a familiar face can do!

I just had a really odd/funny experience.

The phone rang, I answered and a husky voiced woman said, “Hi Mama-la, I’m just calling to tell you I’m going to sleep now.” I was a little taken aback when I heard this. One, because I have no children (and if I did, they wouldn’t sound like a smoker in her forties) and two, because I call MY mother every night and say those exact same words to her. The identical set of words, down to the Mama-la. I had a moment where I thought I might be caught in some bizarre parallel universe or that someone was playing an obscure joke on me. I shook those theories off and just accepted that I’m not the only one who calls her mom to say goodnight.

It’s just a little bit spooky. Cool, but spooky.

I got up this morning, and took a groggy shower. Silly me for thinking that that would be the only time I’d get wet today.

One of the perks of my new job is that my office is all the way across campus from where our mail gets delivered, which means that at least once a day, I get to take a walk. Some people would think this to be a pain in the ass, but for me, it’s a little reprive from sitting in my office alone, straining my eyes on my computer screen.

Today I took that walk, picked up the mail, dropped some grade sheets off in the registrar’s office, and when I walked out, it was raining. Not gentle, dampen the ground rain, but driving, soaking rain, complete with deafening thunder. I didn’t bring an umbrella with me, because I just wasn’t thinking. I stood there for a couple of minutes, under the overhang of the building, trying to wait out the worst of it. Unfortunately it really didn’t let up, and I needed to get back to work, so I just started walking. I tried to convince myself that at heart I’m still mostly an Oregonian, that my ability to dodge raindrops was an innate talent, one that I could access at any time. Yeah, that didn’t work so well. I got back to my office dripping, feeling grateful that while I was wearing a white top, at least there were two layers of white happening there.

I spent the rest of the afternoon drip drying, and by the time I reached the end of the day, only a few damp spots remained. The rain had stopped and the air temperature cooled off enough that it was pleasant walking weather. I headed for home down Market St., my sights set on a stop at Trader Joe’s. As I walked past 30th Street Station, talking to both my parents on my cell phone, I noticed a car driving towards me, going pretty fast. I happened to be positioned right next to a large puddle, which was shimmery with road oil and not to clean looking. Before I had a chance to react, the car drove right through that puddle, showering me with its contents. My hair was soaked, I looked like I was ready for a wet tee-shirt contest, and my glasses were wet to the point where I couldn’t see well, and I didn’t have a scrap of dry clothing on which to wipe them off.

Yep, it’s been quite a day.

Looks like I’m taking my iBook to my college reunion this fall, cause there’s wi-fi in them there hills!

My dad was here this weekend, and now I’m suffering from a bit of the “had to say goodbye to my male parent blues.” (Much preferred to the “what am I doing with my life” blues I was experiencing last week). It was a short visit, but we crammed a lot into 48 hours. I wrote a little something over at philadelphia.metblogs.com about the Phillies game we went to on Saturday night with the (mostly) Unitarian crew. I think, had I been interested, that I could have picked up a guy on the subway on the way down to the game. It’s quite a skill, I must say.
Today, we had brunch with my dad’s cousin in Phoenixville, I sat on the couch with the toy poodle and read a book while my dad and the cousin whopped each other with their intellects over a game of cutthroat Scrabble. Then we headed down 252 to New Town Square for lunch with my 86 year old Aunt Anne (who once, after mentioning that she thought I should lose a few pounds, started chanting at me, “lose weight, lose weight”). Ah, the priviledge of old age.
Then it was off to the airport with my dad. He lost his cell phone on the way out here three weeks ago, and was planning on checking the exact seat in the Denver airport where he was sitting when he lost it, thinking maybe, just maybe it was still there. Ah, the insanity of middle age.
And now, it’s Sunday night, I still have to make my lunch, brush my teeth and get my butt into bed. Ah, the insanity (tomorrow morning) of the sleep deprived.

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An amazing beach,
originally uploaded by Marusula.

Sorry about last night’s post, I’m doing better today. I feel like I’ve regained my equilibrium, perspective and my faith that I am having and will continue to have a good life. I forget sometimes how much power I have in creating my outlook, and so when my rosy view began to shift into something blacker, I waited for something from outside of me to come along and grab me before I slide into the mud puddle. Nothing and no one came, so I slipped into the murky waters for a bit, railing at the universe for not keeping me out of the muck, forgetting that in that moment, I could have saved myself.

I woke up today, one foot still in the mud puddle. I shook it off as I hopped in the shower, and by the time my physical body was clean, my psychic one was refreshed as well. And I’m going to do my best to keep it that way.

So, I’m feeling kind of down. This isn’t how I want to be, but I’m not entirely sure how to make it go away.

I’m having a little disappointment about the new job. It’s really feeling like I made a lateral move, not the step up that I was going for. Maybe this is the way I’m supposed to feel in the first week, when I don’t have much responsibility besides changing minutia on a draft website, copying and pasting inquiry emails into word documents and sending expense reports to the right person. But I guess I was hoping for more, and that more isn’t readily apparent yet. I felt so hopeful about this opportunity before it started, and right now I’m not feeling anything but deflation.

I have a killer sore throat, but I mentioned that yesterday, no use in repeating, when I’ve got all sorts of other wonderful things to complain about.

I’m feeling pretty discouraged by the whole dating thing these days. I don’t reallly have anthing to say about this that hasn’t been said 101 times before on 87 blogs by writers better than I. Not to mention the books, moves, tv shows and magazine articles that beaten the dating and love topic to death. I know all the stuff about how you have to surrender to it. That when you finally stopping caring, that’s when you’ll meet someone. But I gotta say, I’m so far away from not caring, I’m not sure if I’ll ever get there. Personally, I think that the people who say that they really don’t care are full of shit. I’m tired of the dating and discomfort. I’m want ease, intimacy and familiarity. It’s been over a year since I’ve had it, and I really miss it.

Lastly, I’m sad that I’m missing my sister’s CD release party next weekend. Check out www.rainarose.com for the scoop on “Despite the Crushing Weight of Gravity.”

My new office has the strangest window treatments I’ve ever experienced. First off the window starts about four feet off the floor. This means that when I’m sitting at my desk, looking out the window isn’t easy. It requires cocking my head upwards, and then I can only see a slice of sky and the tips of some trees. From the view, you’d never guess that I was actually in a highly urban environment. When I’m standing, I can’t see much more, then again, I am vertically challenged (5’2″ and 1/4).

But back to the window treatments. There are mini-blinds up there, but the live in between two panes of glass. There is a little knob in the lower left hand corner of the window that I have to climb on my desk to reach, that will adjust the tilt of the blinds, but there is no way to put them all the way up. Being the fan of natural light that I am, I tend to do my darnest to get rid of anything that will block it. When my apartment became officially mine, I pulled down my grandmother’s heavy drapes and threw them down the trash shute (I probably should have donated them, but at that moment, I just needed them gone). The very first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is to give the cord of my blinds a violent tug, sending light shooting across my bed. The second awake action of the day is making my bed. How I missed these two routine moments when my late -leeping ex-boyfriend was living with me (although he was worth the sacrifice).

I’ve always had problems with window treatments, although some are a whole lot worse than others. Case in point. A little over a year ago, two friends and I drove to Williamsport, PA. We were visiting a person who used to mean a lot to all of us, but had become decreasingly less important in our lives as time had passed (these things happened). We walking into her fully decorated, fully furnished, fully knick knacky house. I was momentarily stunned speechless. The window treatments! They were more like window punishments. The valence matched the wallpaper, which matched the upholstery, which matched the carpet, which matched…well, you get the idea. Those windows had been very bad indeed to deserve that kind of treatment. Later that night, the three of us visitors lay on a bed, quietly being catty. Towards the end of the conversation, I said, “I have just two words for you, Window Treatments!” We cracked up, so raucously, that our hostess (who really is a sweet person) came looking for us, wanting to know what was so funny. What can you say to that?

To this day, all I have to do is hiss at one of them, “window treatments” and they let loose a little snort of laughter.