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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.

I wore flip flops to work today. This made me happy, because while no one ever came out and said I couldn’t wear them at my old job, I always felt inappropriate when I did. The skirt I wore them with was happy as well.

I’m fighting a sore throat. I think I’m the only person who is capable of getting a sore throat is August, while getting plenty of rest, eating well and exercising.

I bought a plane ticket today for my college reunion in the fall, except that 30 seconds after I pressed purchase, I realized that I chosen the wrong departure date. After a momentary freak out, I connected via America West’s instant messanging service to an agent and she cancelled my purchase and I was able to rebook with the correct date. The woman I chatted with emphasized what a favor she was doing for me, and to be more careful next time. I bet they say that to all the girls.

I stopped at the Salvation Army on my way home from work, and the woman in front of me in line told me I looked sharp in my black v-neck cotton tee-shirt. At least someone out there thinks I look good.

I went to a pilates class yesterday after work and now I can hardly lift my legs.

My sister (the future rock star) was flown down to San Francisco this weekend to open two shows for a friend of her’s. She’s amazing.

With that folks, we wrap up this collection of tidbits. Better stuff tomorrow, I promise.

I got up extra early yesterday, wanting to make a good impression by showing up in a timely manner for the new job(I tend to be punctuality challenged). I spent the morning running around my apartment and rushed a friend who had called to wish me well off the phone. I paused at two minutes to eight to glance at my email and it’s a good thing I did. My new supervisor had shot me a quick note, asking me not to come in until 10:30, because she had been on vacation and needed a little time to get settled before she could devote time to me. So instead of rushing out the door, I had a leisurely morning, finishing my coffee on my couch, with the remnants of Sunday’s newspaper.
I walked over to the new job, and was absolutely dripping when I arrived. I was immediately introduced around the office, face beet red and hair sticking up and down in a million directions. Probably not the best way to make a first impression.
I spent the rest of the day with “the new supe,” filling out payroll paperwork, learning about some of my new responsibilities and getting an introduction to the department email address (that’s going to be my responsibility).
What has been the most interesting for me about the this new job is that I’m not feeling really excited or nervous or anxious or really anything. Typically, I’m an anticipator. I look forward to the plane flight, the vacation, the birthday, the new school year (although that hasn’t happened in awhile) or the new job with deep emotion. But this time around, it has just felt so ordinary. My mom would probably tell me that this is what it’s like to grow up. I’m okay with growing up, but surrendering that new experience excitement is giving me pangs. Well, at least that’s some emotion.

My father was 21 when he proposed to my mom, who was about to turn 23. They had only known each other two weeks, when he asked her to spend the rest of her life with him, and so she responded by saying, “Okay, but don’t tell anyone, in case we change our minds.”

They had met at a Subud potluck in San Francisco. My dad was living in the Bay Area, completing his alternative service (a firm belief in pacificism and a family that included many generations of Quakers and Unitarians had won him consciencious objector status). My mom had just graduated from Temple and was living with a guy named Stacey in Philly, when at the last minute, my grandmother invited her to go to San Francisco, she went.

They didn’t change their minds, and began to announce their engagement. My mom flew back to Philly, packed up her apartment, broke up with Stacey, gave away her two cats and left the east coast for good.

On August 1st, 1970, they married, on hill overlooking the bay. My dad’s stepfather (a Unitarian minister) performed the ceremony and my mom wore a dress she had made. The reception was a potluck dinner.

35 years later, they are still together. They have fought, they have struggled, they nearly imploded on several occasions, but they kept going. They taught me, mostly through osmosis, that when both parties are really committed to making a relationship work and survive, that you can and you do.

Happy anniversary, guys. I love you bunches.

I saw a family of five out together. The five year old led the pack, on a bike free of training wheels. The father ran slowly beside his toddler aged tow-headed son, who was running as fast as his legs could move, with such joy and enthusiasm. The mother, with her wrist tethered to a jogging stroller that held the baby, brought up the rear. You could see from her expression how much she enjoyed her children, and how proud she was of the family she had helped create. It was really a delight to experience them, even for a moment.

I’ve come to the conclusion that during times of transition, where you’re primed to move ahead with life, that that’s when you spend large chunks of time looking back. At least, that’s how I’ve been killing time. For the last couple of days, I’ve been mired in retrospection. None of it has been bad, but I’m feeling a little bogged down, a little slow and little sad. I’ve spent time thinking about the paths I’ve taken, including how I determined where to go to college and why I chose to move to Philly. I’ve run the list of former dates and encounters, wincing at some of the choices I’ve made. I’ve replayed scenes in my head, cringing at the apparent discomfort I displayed existing in my body.

I’ve also allowed myself to celebrate the good stuff. The friends I’ve picked and loved. The ways in which I’ve interacted with others that left them feeling better than they did before they knew me. The kindnesses I’ve shown to myself (and I speak for women in my generation on this, sometimes one of the hardest things you can do in life is treat yourself with kindness).

I hope that what I’m doing with all this is priming myself for more good experiences. I’d like to think that I’m looking back and remembering my cringe-worthy moments so that I can learn how to have less of them.

A girl can only hope.

and I overslept this morning. As a friend pointed out, at this point, at least they can’t fire me for being late.

I feel funny about leaving. As much as I was ready to be out, to move on, there were good things about my workplace too. I loved many of the people I worked with. The environment was flexible and casual. There was many a day where I left early to hit a thrift store. Leaving a comfortable environment, even if it’s oppressively, suffocatingly comfortable, is hard. Starting something new is even harder, and I’m about to dive into that on Monday.

When I left my last job, there were no mixed feelings, no gray area. I wanted out and when I walked through the doors of 615 Chestnut that last time, I felt buoyant. Today, leaving Queen Lane was hard. I worked later than I wanted, trying to get the last bits done before I left. When the mailing I was throwing together was done, I left quickly and did not linger. It was akin to ripped a band-aid off, it must be done firmly and without hesitation, or it will hurt and you’ll leave pieces of yourself behind.

I’ve been thinking about my life, and realized that I’ve been living in a series of four year increments. First there was high school (four years). Next college, another four years, with a life changing trip to Indonesia at the end. It’s been four years since college, that trip and almost four years since I’ve been in Philly. I feel ready to embark upon my next four year stint, my last four years in my 20’s. Here’s to the next cycle, may it be filled with love, joy and growth.

A wing and a view,
originally uploaded by Marusula.

Two weeks ago today was the last day of my Portland vacation. My mom and I spent the day at coast (in Oregon it’s not the shore or the beach). As we drove west on highway 26 in my dad’s zippy (and fuel efficient) little sedan, we talked and enjoyed being in each other’s physical company. About 25 minutes into the drive we stopped at the one state-run rest stop on that stretch of road. As I came out of my stall and walked to the sink, I noticed a young woman washing her hands and chatting with a couple of friends.

Now, I haven’t lived in Oregon in four years, and I was really hardly there during college, which means it’s been more than eight years now. So I don’t know many people in that area anymore.

But wouldn’t you know, I happened to stop at a coastal rest stop at the same moment, on the same day as a friend from high school! It was such a kick. I believe in the principle that there are no accidents, that there is some reason, no matter how mundane, behind ever synchronicitious experience. I haven’t figured out why I ran into Vasiliki, maybe it was just for the fun and the story. That may just be enough.