The Art of Poetry

To gaze at a river made of time and water
And remember Time is another river.
To know we stray like a river
and our faces vanish like water.

To feel that waking is another dream
that dreams of not dreaming and that the death
we fear in our bones is the death
that every night we call a dream.

To see in every day and year a symbol
of all the days of man and his years,
and convert the outrage of the years
into a music, a sound, and a symbol.

To see in death a dream, in the sunset
a golden sadness–such is poetry,
humble and immortal, poetry,
returning, like dawn and the sunset.

Sometimes at evening there’s a face
that sees us from the deeps of a mirror.
Art must be that sort of mirror,
disclosing to each of us his face.

They say Ulysses, wearied of wonders,
wept with love on seeing Ithaca,
humble and green. Art is that Ithaca,
a green eternity, not wonders.

Art is endless like a river flowing,
passing, yet remaining, a mirror to the same
inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same
and yet another, like the river flowing.

Jorge Luis Borges

Today was just all kinds of harsh. But I had a very good healthy lunch and discovered a great new recipe for spicy cold cucumber and yogurt soup. Seriously. It’s got paprika, onion and cilantro in it - in addition to cucumber and yogurt - and it was light and refreshing and tasty. I might make some this weekend just cuz it’s good.

We put a full-size spare on the car today (we being my mother and I since I have only one functioning hand) so that tomorrow night/Friday, I can take the car to the shop to get the tires replaced. I think I will drive in tomorrow, but I will be that annoying person going 50 mph on the highway, and then I have the CT scan, the doctor and then the tire place. I’ll have to have my mother or sister accompany me to the tire place so I can drop it off and then drive home with one of them since I can’t wait there until the car’s ready the next afternoon morning. Or it might turn out that I have to bring it on Friday morning if they’re not accepting any more clients tomorrow night. I’ll find that out tomorrow night, I suppose.

Argh. Ugh. Sigh. I cried for a while again tonight because I was just wondering why my father (and even my mother, though to a lesser extent) seem to truly enjoy making me feel like a total f**k-up and loser whenever I make a mistake and expose the fact that I am - gasp! - HUMAN. Nothing I ever do is good enough, even if I think it’s pretty great, and when I feel like I’ve screwed up, he makes damn sure that I know JUST HOW MUCH I screwed up. It’s really kicking someone when they’re down, so it’s not just the universe. My father’s in on the act, too.

I actually broke down in a minor fashion and was telling my mother, while I was crying, that this constant sense of “not being able to do anything right” that I get from him really doesn’t help me. One of the things I find myself thinking - even on a good day - is that I’m not good enough to deserve happiness or things like appreciation or praise. So when my father or mother heap crap on me for making the tiniest mistake or just being human and fallible, I extend those thoughts into the much more detrimental, “Why even bother trying? I’m not worth it…” and I give up on whatever it is I’m doing - trying to lose weight, managing my finances, etc., since it doesn’t seem like all that hard work is worth it. It certainly doesn’t make any difference since all my efforts go unnoticed, but the moment I misstep, I am the stupidest, laziest, most irresponsible, ungrateful, waste of an education my father has ever seen (or so he’s said on various occasions - sometimes in exciting combinations of two or more!)

I have a very painful zit festering under my eyebrow. It’s going to be one of those painful ones that never looks like much, but hurts like a bitch. Kind of like me?

Or maybe I’m just a bitch.

Nah. I just let my cousin borrow another bunch of my DVDs to watch at night. By the time she leaves the States on Tuesday, she’ll have seen practically every movie in my collection - except for the rated “R” ones and the musicals for some reason. I guess they’re both obscene in their own ways.

Sleep-time for me. It’s been a long mutha-f**kin’ day.

Here’s one view of the CAT scan of my left wrist. Until I get the CAT scan of my right wrist tomorrow, this image means very little to anyone who’s not an orthopedist. I just think it’s cool-looking. I actually made a wallpaper from it. I’m not going to share that with the world at large just yet - or ever.

I’m just not having a good day today. I missed out on the relaxing weekend I was hoping for and the return to work was not smooth. I just couldn’t find my groove and found myself wanting to go hide in the bathroom stall and cry for no reason. Just because I don’t feel like myself right now. It certainly doesn’t help that my next paycheck is entirely gone before I get it to pay the second portion of that big school loan… and that means I have no more income until September 15th. That really blows. Horribly. Truly. I think that, more than anything, is responsible for the funk I’m in right now.

However, it’s not the only factor. I am feeling lonely (after having been surrounded by couples at the BBQ yesterday) and feeling unattractive and gross in a variety of ways. By the time I got home tonight, I felt like I was going to throw up, so I did not get on the treadmill. If I go to sleep soon - say, 9ish? - perhaps I can get up at 6 or 6:30 and start my day with a run and find myself in a better mood all day as a result. Maybe? It might work. It might not.

I’m watching “Dark City” again. There’s just something about that Rufus Sewell. He’s captivating. Kiefer Sutherland = not so much. He’s got this wacky stilted stutter thing going in this film. I don’t know whether to be amused or annoyed by it.

My wrist hurts. My head hurts. My stomach hurts. My eyes itch (ragweed season ahoy!) and I need to get to sleep. I’m not sleepy, but perhaps this is a night to break out the sleeping pills.

This afternoon/evening, I went to a BBQ with my friend. I’d met the people hosting it on a few prior occasions and they are super cool; today was further confirmation of their coolness.

Anyway, I got to meet their pet albino rats - Rose and Grace - and played with Rose (who is “the brave one”). Some of the other people in attendance - friends of my friend - asked me if my friend and I were an item. I’m sort of getting sick of being asked that anytime I’m out with a male friend. Maybe it means that I behave in a way that’s too friendly? Maybe the close friendship vibe smacks of intimacy and people can’t distinguish mental/emotional intimacy from sexual intimacy? Maybe it just means that people can’t conceive of a platonic friendship between a guy and a girl in their late 20’s? I don’t know. It gets frustrating, though.

I played grilling assistant when our host was making the burgers for everyone, and allowed myself a glass of wine (in this case, a Gewürztraminer) and then sat down to chat with people. We talked with our host who is a very knowledgeable and well-read individual. He recommended a few books to me… but I’m having trouble remembering the last one. The first one was Neal Stephenson’s “Snow Crash” and then his “Zodiac.” After that was a book which I believe is out of print called, “The Karma Affair” by Arsen Darnay. The last one is also out of print and had the word, “rainbow” in the title, but I can’t remember the precise title. So… I will have to get this guy’s email address from my friend and ask him. Then it will be time to go on a little hunting expedition at abebooks.com or some other used book site/store.

Well, this wasn’t very relaxing in terms of a weekend. But I’m not the only one feeling this sort of stress and craziness. I mean, I’m actually much better off in many ways. Part of my conversation with my friend tonight was about maybe taking a vacation together somewhere cool next year. This year, neither one of us had the money or the time. However, next year should be a little better in both respects, and if everything goes to plan for me, I’ll be in good physical condition to do something a little more active on a vacation (like climbing or hiking a crazy trail) and able to keep up with my friend, who is very physically fit. Where I read for pleasure and improve myself through those pursuits, he works out and does 6-mile jogs for pleasure. This is something I cannot fathom at this point. I never could, even when I was thinner and more active. I’m sure I’ll get to the point where I can do that again, but I still don’t think I’ll enjoy it or get up in the morning going, “Hrm. You know what would be nice? A six mile run.”

That said, it’s 11:30 and I would like to get up a little earlier tomorrow so I can prepare lunch for work and maybe do a 20 minute Pilates routine before I shower and whatnot. I can run after work, though it might be better for me to get up early and run for a half hour. That way, I don’t have the entire day to talk myself out of it.

The all-encompassing “they” manufacture and sell appetite suppressants - to suppress something (appetite) that’s very normal and natural.

“They” don’t, however, manufacture or sell thought suppressants. Well, at least over-the-counter. Some thoughts are not normal and are not natural. I could use thought suppressants sometimes - and not even to suppress dangerous or self-destructive thoughts. Just the ones that make me feel like I’ve got additional mental issues.

What brings this on? Well, earlier this week, my friend asked me if I’d come along to a BBQ he’s attending tomorrow. I agreed to go since I don’t have any other plans, but when I spoke to him today I got a fuller picture of the event and stupid thoughts are coming into my head.

Basically, it’s a BBQ hosted by some friends of his from law school. I’ve met them and they’re nice people. When I spoke to him today, he let me know that we’d have to leave a little earlier than usual to meet up with two other people from law school, who he wasn’t sure I’d “click” with. So… the stupid question that pops into my mind:

Why does he even want to bring me along?

Sure, we’re friends and I’m OK company - but he’s going to be surrounded by people he knows from law school who will have a good amount in common with him and plenty to discuss. Additionally, if he happened to meet a chick there who he grew interested in, having to explain me away (”she’s just a friend”) would cramp his style a little. Also, knowing my friend, he’s not someone who has a phobia about attending social functions alone; he’s usually better off alone, as far as I can tell/know/sense/have seen. Attending a wedding where you don’t know anyone is one thing; attending a BBQ where you’ll know several people is entirely different. The one merits bringing company so you have someone to talk to. The other? Not so much.

I’m thinking that this might be an effort to get ME to meet new people, but it’s not really necessary since I am meeting new people at work and expanding my social circle that way (not with an eye on relationships, mind you - just in general). I often have a problem with meeting new people in a non-work situation because I’m almost crippled by the feeling that they’ll refer to me as “the fat girl that so-and-so brought with him.” Realistically, this is not how I’ll be recalled; I’ll be “so-and-so’s friend” or “the girl with the cool glasses.” But still, I have trouble shaking that feeling. At least in work-related situations, I can be referred to as “the girl who works with so-and-so” or “girl who sits next to…” or “girl who handles…” or “that girl who’s always so damn chipper.”

Don’t get me wrong - I’m glad to go tomorrow and have something to do. I just hate that I’m even entertaining these questions in my mind. Grrr.

My CAT scan films are pretty cool-looking. I might see if I can scan them in tomorrow (er…today) and post them up on the new photo gallery section I’m working on loading up. Look for that link soon - on the main page and in the body of a rant/announcement.

It’s after midnight. I’m going to watch “The Lady Eve” with Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda and call it a night.

Tonight, my sister, my cousin and I went to an Italian bakery/cafe nearby. We got some chocolate cannoli, profiterole cake, a hazelnut/chocolate gelato sundae of sorts, a Coke float with vanilla ice cream — and water. None of us ate a WHOLE dish, but we all shared.

Agnieszka had never tried a Coke float (ice cream floating IN a soda?), cannoli (sweet cheese filling IN a fried pastry/cookie shell? Only the Italians!), profiterole cake or gelato. However, I have it on good authority that she liked everything we shared.

It was nice - we just sat in the cafe and talked for a while, and laughed quite a bit about a variety of things. It’s good to see my cousin coming out of her shell a bit, and nice to see my sister trying to improve her Polish so she can communicate more effectively with my cousin.

Then we drove home and Agnieszka selected some movies from my DVD collection so she can watch something in the late hours of the night. She doesn’t get to sleep until after everyone else in the house (she still has her youth!) so to keep her from getting totally bored, I’ve told her to feel free to come into my room and borrow whatever DVDs she likes. Thus far, she’s watched Edward Scissorhands, A Christmas Carol (with Patrick Stewart), The Last Unicorn, and Legally Blonde. Tonight, her movie selections were James and the Giant Peach and Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away. As long as she can turn on the English subtitles, she’s OK with watching them… she can read along if the speech is too quick or just confusing. It’s a fact that most people, when speaking, make absolutely no sense since words run together, sounds get dropped or glossed over… it’s hard enough to understand people when you’re speaking the same language, but it’s damn near impossible to understand them when they’re speaking their own language in a comfortably lazy way. Yeah. Not fun.

Today at work, the company that owns the buildings on our block held a tenant appreciation day. Local restaurants provided hamburgers and hot dogs and potato salad, soda and chips and Mr. Softee ice cream and such. They hired a DJ who seemed to have a minor obsession with Gwen Stefani since he played three of her songs in the 45 minutes I was out there. Ridiculous. But her shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s.

They also hired caricature artists (I skipped that since I’ve had it done twice before in my life and I end up being depicted as ALL cheeks. It’s so not even mildly flattering. I give up.) as well as tarot card readers. I waited in line with my friend - who was going to get a reading - until I felt I’d spent enough time out there and needed to get back to my work (I had a particularly tasty spreadsheet waiting for me!) When I got back upstairs, I was walking by a co-worker and he asked me how my reading went. I responded that I’d just been waiting in line with a friend and didn’t actually get a reading. He responded with a, “why not?” and I replied that there wasn’t really anything I wanted to know (since saying, “I don’t believe in that shit” might’ve offended him if he, in fact, did believe.)

But it’s kind of weird. When I was in line with her, Krys and her co-worker asked me if I was going to get a reading, and I said no. They said I should do it; didn’t I have anything I wanted to know the answer to? (The card reader had talked to us a moment before letting us know that she wanted us to focus on the question we had for her since it would make the reading quicker and more accurate). I thought about it for a moment, and I had to say that there really wasn’t anything I wanted to know about (even out of a silly kitschy curiosity.) I wouldn’t ask about my future in terms of relationships or love, or work and money, or family and home. I’m working on all those things in my own way and whatever comes to pass will come to pass because I have been working towards it - or not. I don’t need or want to know what’s going to happen because it will all happen in due time. I’m not impatient about knowing the WHEN and HOW and WHERE. It makes no difference. So, that felt sort of good in a way - being able to honestly say that I didn’t want to know my future (even if from a tarot reader who may or may not be someone with “the gift”) and meaning it.

After work, I went out for Thai food with Theresa and we were seated near the most wretched pair of old women ever. OK, almost ever. The one woman ordered a Thai iced tea (which is not a regular iced tea, and which comes sweetened and spiced and with milk in it… by definition.) When she received the tea, she took a sip and commented loudly to her friend, “IT’S A LITTLE TOO SWEET.” [All caps to emphasize her speaking as if to the entire room/a deaf person. From what I could tell, her friend was not hard of hearing.]

She then turned her head towards their waiter and repeated, “IT’S A LITTLE TOO SWEET.” The guy asked her if everything was OK, and she said everything was fine. The moment he walked away, a girl came by to refill their water glasses. The old lady commented again, “IT’S A LITTLE TOO SWEET.” She held the glass up to her friend and said, “Do you want to have a try? IT’S A LITTLE TOO SWEET.” Her friend politely declined, saying, “It’s already sweetened. Does it have milk in it? I can’t have milk. I HAVE A CONDITION.”

At this moment, I quietly begged Theresa to promise me that if I ever became like one of those women, that she’d inject me with something merciful or lock me in the garage with the car running. She promised me she would. Our friendship became that much closer.

Then we talked some more about her wedding and planning the ceremony and decorations and stuff. I bought her the wedding planner she decided she wanted, so I hope it helps her keep things organized. I know she’s a planner and I’m an organizer, so I think we can understand the need to keep the information together and handy for planning and organizational purposes. Also, I am pleased to be the safehouse for her wedding dress until she takes it to the seamstress/tailor for alterations and dry cleaning. After that, I’ll be the safehouse again.

I have a tremendous amount of work to do tomorrow, so I’d best be getting along to bed. It would be good to be lucid. I have about 30 pages left of the novel I’m reading and I’m enjoying it tremendously. I’ll probably write about that tomorrow… since I just can’t wait to get into bed and polish it off!

Today was visit #2 to doctor #3. We went over the results (rather, lack thereof) of the NSAIDs I was taking for my wrist.

Before discussing the nitty gritty of surgery, the doctor asked me if any of my prior doctors had sent me for a CAT scan. I said no, and he said that he wanted to send me for one before determining what kind of surgery he’d recommend. According to him, the pathology can present one thing, but what is actually wrong can be quite different, so it’s best to do every possible pre-test and pre-diagnostic and examination before slicing anyone open.

I strongly agree with this mode of thinking.

So… he wrote me a “prescription” for a thin-slice CAT scan (+ 3D of my left wrist - I’ll be asking for those films!), and called the insurance company to get the pre-certification/authorization. Tomorrow morning, I am calling one of the two radiology/imaging centers in the area and seeing who can get me in for the CAT scan sooner. One of them is on my way to work and starts scheduling people at 7 am. The other has Saturday hours. Hopefully, they can get me in way early on Thursday or Friday at the one place, or fit me in on Saturday at the other. I’ll find out in the morning.

Since my method of dealing with something strange/new/unfamiliar/potentially scary is to research the F**K out of it, I’ve done a lot of reading in the past 30 minutes on thin slice CAT scans and computed tomography in general. I shan’t bore you with details, but here’s a rather informative site for the layperson.

Once I get the CAT scan results, I already have an appointment to see the orthopedist next Thursday to review the results and discuss our next steps. It’s good to have these discussions; they keep me from feeling totally frightened since he tells me exactly what is going on, why he is sending me for tests or what-have-you, and uses the actual medical terminology unless I look confused or otherwise indicate that I have no idea what he’s talking about. Even though I hadn’t heard the term “avascular necrosis of the lunate” until a few months ago, I was able to figure it out… though I still regret not having been able to take Latin in high school. But I manage.

“Avascular”: prefix “a-” denotes absence of, as in “amoral” = lacking morals. “Vascular” = having to do with the veins and circulatory system, as in “cardiovascular” (heart and circulatory) as opposed to “cardiopulmonary” (heart and lungs). Thus, “absence of circulation/blood/vascularization.”

“Necrosis”: prefix “necr-” implies “having to do with death”, as in “necrophilia” (love of the dead) or “necromancy” (summoning of the dead). So necrosis = death.

“Lunate”: well, this one wouldn’t have been clear without knowledge of my wrist’s anatomy, but it makes sense in general. The lunate bone is supposed to be shaped like a crescent moon when viewed from the side - “luna” = moon. Done.

All told, death of the moon-bone due to lack of blood. Yay, roots! Yay, language!

Ok. It’s now 10:30 and I excused myself from watching “Spiderman” with my mom and my cousin since I want to get to bed at a decent hour and get up early to go to the bank (in addition to shaving my legs and the other morningtime fun I have planned.) Last night, I finished off a really good read - and an entirely OK memoir - called “The Glass Castle” by Jeannette Walls. It’s not going to win a Nobel Prize for Literature, but if you want a book to make you think, “Hey, my childhood was pretty OK, though not nearly as memoir-worthy”, this is a good fit. Unlike some of the memoirs I’ve read (”The Liars Club” by Mary Karr comes to mind) this one doesn’t play (as heavily, anyway) upon the manipulation of the reader’s emotions in trying to elicit a response. Instead of belaboring the, “Oh, wasn’t it tough!” point or “…and I didn’t realize until I was an adult that [insert odd childhood detail] wasn’t normal…”, this particular memoir just told the story - and you don’t feel sorry for anyone, really. You identify with the author’s sense of shame, and her desire to make things better… but you don’t ever feel your eyes welling up with tears or find yourself wanting to donate money to a charity.

Then again, someone might read it and think it’s the saddest thing they’ve ever read since, admittedly, it’s not easy to make me cry, especially through contrived methods like movies, fiction, etc. I’m quite skeptical on that front, but not entirely cold and without feeling. I just recognize when bullshit is being thrown at me and when someone is trying to manipulate me through emotions instead of speaking to logic or morals or my innate sense of justice. THAT is more effective than the emotional nonsense.

I had a big spinach salad for dinner at an authentic New Jersey diner - where we took my cousin for the experience. I didn’t finish the salad because it was HUGE, so it’s my lunch tomorrow. My cousin had a Caesar chicken wrap and enjoyed it very much… so that was cool. My sister’s boyfriend drew us a storyboard/panels for a cartoon on the backside of his placemat and we all had to take turns writing dialogue for the characters he drew. I made the strange popcorn-looking fellow state that he was appalled at the beaver-looking critter’s sense of patriarchal dictatorship and proclaimed that he/she was a feminist vegetarian supporter of Jesus. My mother wrote in an apology on behalf of the beaver, and my sister wrote in the popcorn’s response, “You type of people make me want to put up my fists!” and then the popcorn was eaten by a shark that appeared from nowhere and I wrote in the dialogue for the beaver who was laughing at the shark-devoured popcorn. The beaver said, “You’re going DOWN, beyotch! Aw, yeah - JAWS STYLE. (Watch Shark Week on the Discovery Channel!)” And that was it.

And now it grows even later. It’s 10:56. I am going to get to bed and continue reading for a little while, but not until 2 in the morning like I did yesterday since I was so intent on finishing “The Glass Castle.” Silly me.

Today, I worked with free weights and did 40 minutes of Pilates - the 20 minute beginner’s mat workout (since I have to regain my conditioning) and then 20 minutes of the Pilates Ab workout, which is usually a 40 minute workout, but which I couldn’t get all the way through.

It’s not bad for a start - especially after yesterday’s two-hour long hike. I have a bruise on my shoulder as I expected I would… and I soaked in a tub of warm water and Epsom salts today to relieve some of the soreness I was feeling.

I found a tremendously helpful site for any folks with a video-enabled iPod: art4itunes.com. You simply export your music library to a .txt file and then upload it to this site. It, in turn, pulls down the track listings and album art from Amazon.com so you can copy and paste it into the album artwork section for each song/CD. If you’ve taken most of your CD collection and ripped it to MP3s to put on your iPod (as I have) this is a time-saver indeed.

Tomorrow is visit #2 to orthopedist #3. My MRIs are still in the car and I have already referred to my train schedule to see when I need to leave work to make my 3:30 appointment. In this case, I have a 2:30 train that gets me home at 3:20 and allows me a whopping 10 minutes to get to the doctor’s office… which is perfect, actually, since he’s nice and close.

Tuesday, thankfully, is pay day since I’m running on low cash levels right now. It’s only going to be like this for another month as I pay off the initial large percentage of the Forgotten School Loan. Two months @ $1300 sucks, but at least I make enough at this point in my life to pay that off and still have a little money leftover to pay other bills and, uh, live?

I’m going to get to bed. I have new books to read. Rock.

This afternoon, I went for a hike with my mother, brother and cousin. Technically, I went for a hike with my mother since I refused to spend time in the presence of my brother who was in rare form today, insulting everyone and everything around him as though we were without feelings (or an inner ear or stomach to upset, based on how he was driving.)

So, we went for a hike at the Pyramid Mountain Natural Historical Park. I was having trouble breathing about halfway into it since my allergies got bad; I was wheezing and felt like I was inhaling chalk, then started getting dizzy. It wasn’t fun. Then, I tripped over some roots and got stabbed in the leg by a branch which left a pretty nasty bruise, even through the thick sweatpants I was wearing (since there are ticks and copperhead snakes in them thar woods.) Later on, I tripped over a rock (and it’s not that I’m incapable of walking - it’s that we went on the moderately difficult trail and part of it is literally jumping from rock to rock through a marsh) and fell down - hard - on my right shoulder, since I was very much aware of the excruciating pain landing on my left hand/wrist would cause me. So… now my entire right shoulder is sore and bruised and I can barely lift it. I can’t wait until tomorrow morning; these types of “injuries” are always 100 times worse after a night of sleep.

We got home, ate some dinner, and then I watched “V for Vendetta” with my other brother and his girlfriend. They’d never seen it before (I had) and they ended up really liking it. That pleased me greatly. I really like that movie.

Right now, I’m settling in for the night and just visiting some sites through the Stumbleupon browser extension I have installed for Firefox. It’s pretty jazzy; I’ve mentioned it before and I’ll keep doing it until I find myself getting bored with it. While there’s definitely an ebb and flow to my usage of the service, I find that it’s great to have and when I don’t have it (i.e. at work or when using someone else’s computer) I really miss it. There is a pretty active community of users who join groups and communicate and forge friendships and whatnot, but I’m not really the social butterfly kind - online or in person. So I’m perfectly content just viewing sites and occasionally sending someone a message thanking them for bringing a certain site to my attention.

Tonight, I came across a site for the Shyness & Social Anxiety Treatment Organization in Australia. It lists the following as common social phobias (and I’ve included brief personal comments):

•Public speaking (not an issue)
•Performing on stage (not an issue)
•Dealing with authority figures (not an issue)
•Eating and drinking (not an issue)
•Writing (not an issue)
•Dating (kind of an issue, but not a fear)
•Using public toilets (not an issue)
•Sexual performance (ties into the dating issue…)
•Taking an exam (not an issue)
•Social encounters in general (sometimes)

It’s a little weird; I sometimes get phobic about talking to the gas station attendant, or asking for help at a store. I have no problem presenting to a large group of people or conducting a meeting or training. I don’t mind talking to my boss’s boss or people even higher ranking than her. For some reason, though, I will occasionally seize up when it’s time to call and order takeout food or ask a store whether they have an item I’m looking for. It’s more mood-related, I think, since sometimes I have no problem with it whatsoever. I’m a strange bird.

Now, if I’m going to be honest with myself and with the reading public (however small it may be) I guess I’d have to admit that there is a slight fear involved with dating. But I wouldn’t call it a social phobia. I don’t fear meeting someone new - but I am very cynical about it. I fear that I will waste my time. I fear that I will waste someone else’s time. I fear that I can’t relate to anyone in that way and I fear that it’s too late for me. By the same token, I am fearing it less and less since I am accepting that it might just not be my lot in life.

My mother actually brought this up again during our hike. She told me that she worries about me and my brother since our younger siblings (brother and sister) are both in relationships, while my brother and I are singletons, and have been for the duration of our adult lives (which is 10 years for me, and 9 for him.) We’ve dated very rarely/very seldom/for a short time and not seriously. I haven’t been “out” with someone in… uh… well, I can’t really remember, actually. Something like three years? And that wasn’t really much of a date… since I knew about 5 minutes into it that there was no chemistry or common thread of any kind and told the guy so. He thanked me for my honesty, but still insisted on paying for dinner (though I offered to cover myself!). At least I can’t be accused of using a guy or leading him on… that’s the “honest to a fault” portion of being me.

My response to my mother was that there’s nothing to worry about in my case. I have friends and that lets me know that I am not socially inept and that I will be OK, even if I am a single person. It’s kind of hard to explain to her that it’s FINE by me if I’m alone; I don’t plan on having kids and marriage isn’t on my mind or even a part of my life plan. I’m not discounting it entirely (I could meet someone amazing tomorrow… but the chances of that are quite slim as I intend on staying home all day tomorrow and getting caught up on doing laundry, etc.), but I’m not expecting it, counting on it or planning it either.

I’m installing some new features for the site - like a photo gallery so I can display the Tunisia photos at long last, as well as any others I come across and want to share.

So I’m off to do that. Bon nuit!

Since I finished “Freddy and Fredericka” last night and my shipment from Amazon hasn’t arrived yet, I decided to start re-reading a book I’ve already read. In this case, I chose “Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers” by Mary Roach. It’s the kind of non-fiction I really love and am sometimes conflicted about enjoying so much; it’s well-written, accessible and a joy to read. Why do I feel conflicted about that? Well, I’ve come to expect non-fiction to be boring and less-than-fun to read. In the last few years, I’ve discovered that it’s usually not the case and have come to love a great many non-fiction works, but I sort of feel like I’m cheating when I say I’m reading non-fiction and I mean something by Bill Bryson or Paco Underhill. It’s not a textbook, or an annual report. It’s FUN. Oh, the torture.

Anyway, I’m reading about corpses. That’s the point.

I have also agreed to go hiking with my mother and my cousin tomorrow morning. It should be OK as long as I wrap my wrist in an ACE bandage (since the wrist brace will give me a nasty heat rash if/when I start sweating) and wear good sneakers. It will be a nice jumpstart for the first weekend of the Minister Makeover.

Lastly, I’m watching a PBS special on the DeMedici family and their patronage during the Renaissance. It’s quite interesting and I’m going to have to restart the DVD since I know I’ve missed some stuff while writing this. Anyway, it inspired me to learn more about art history, so I found an art history book and added it to my Amazon wishlist. It’s actually a textbook which includes a CD with visual content, etc. - but I think that’s the best way for me to learn it. I really love college textbooks, so enjoying the visual and tactile sensations of the book itself will help with the experience of learning about it. I think. It would be cool, though.

Next on my list of topics to self-educate myself about - in survey course style - is US history and world history. World history will probably the more interesting and important topic. Yeah. A lot more to catch up on there.

OK. Back to Brunelleschi and DeMedici and architecture and the Papacy.

Leave work early (if you can only swing a half hour early, so be it).
Get on the train and put on the most relaxing classical music you can find on your iPod.
Close your eyes.
Try to be aware enough not to miss your train stop.
When getting off the train, ignore the fact that with each step you take, your head feels like it’s growing too heavy to sit atop your neck.
Drive home.
Enjoy that no one else is home yet and have a snack - maybe you’re dehydrated or your blood sugar is low. A glass of water and some fruit should help.
Settle into bed with a book, but set it aside and just close your eyes for a bit.
That feels nice, but the headache isn’t leaving. Have some more water.
Put on a movie, silently, to give you something to think about and listen to that’s not the suddenly-loud pounding in your skull.
Doze off and miss a phone call from a friend.
Call friend back and then speak briefly, kindly turning down an invitation to go out.
Finally, take some Motrin. Four pills should do it.
Realize that the headache isn’t going away anytime soon, drink more water and then plan on reading until sleep settles in.
Finish reading the book that’s had you captivated since you started reading it on the train on Monday morning. It’s only been your train reading, but it’s something you can’t put down… “Freddy and Fredericka” by Mark Helprin.
Close the book, thinking, “That was a good funny read, but it wasn’t fluff. That’s cool. How to describe it? A satire of the British royal family that has the Prince and Princess of Wales being temporarily exiled from England due to many PR gaffes, then parachuting into Bayonne, New Jersey, to start conquering the United States under assumed names?” That’s basically it… but very basically.

Other things that crossed my mind today:

• Having to attend IT training is really really boring if you are comfortable with Windows-based applications or have a good sense of the order and flow of information systems. I almost embarrassed myself by getting caught nodding off in the midst of a two-hour training session (my notebook slipped off my lap and I found some random scribblings in the margin, which indicates that my hand was writing but I wasn’t aware of it). The beginning of the training was interesting, but the second half was stuff I already knew or could have easily picked up from playing around with the program.

• I highly recommend discovering/rediscovering the fact that Nutella on a croissant is delicious.

• If you want to watch a really visually stunning movie - but only for ages 14 and up, since I think it’s creepy for any kids younger than that, and despite the benign appearance of the movie - acquire a copy of Neil Gaiman’s “Mirrormask.” It’s a great story and it’s just beautiful to watch. It’s not happy, it’s not bright; it’s dark, it’s sort of sadly humorous, and is in the same vein as Edward Scissorhands, Alice in Wonderland, and most other films which capture the feeling of being a stranger in an extremely surreal and strange land, or just an “outsider” trying to be understood, while also dealing with the guilt and insecurity of adolescence or even blossoming adulthood. Or at least that’s how I see it.

I am quite glad that tomorrow is Friday. I sort of wish I could call out sick tomorrow, but I have no reason to, and I really shouldn’t. I’m going to take a day off next week to spend some time with my cousin, so this is not the time for a mental health day. Besides, I know I have things to go over with my boss tomorrow, and I even took a few minutes earlier to write an email to myself at work with a list of “things to do” which I forgot to write down in my notebook before leaving work.

I’m usually good like that. It’s probably the best/most gratifying part of my daily routine and when I don’t do it, I feel really out of sorts for the rest of the night and the next morning. Before I leave work for the day, I like to take 10 minutes or so and create a list of the things I need to do the next day. It might be something as simple and “administrative” as sending a copy of a book to someone I promised to send it to, or it may be something as involved as “developing a marketing plan for XYZ project.” But I like to have it all down - everything I can think of - so I don’t stress about it that night. It’s on my list, I won’t forget, and as anything else comes up, I can simply add it on. Some days, I’ll only get a few things crossed off the list. Those days, I’ll rewrite the items that weren’t accomplished onto the next day’s list, and so on until they are done.

Sometimes (most often, actually) it’s not a matter of me not having the time or the ability or the desire to do things on the list that keep them from getting done. Most often, it’s a matter of waiting for responses or information or data from other people I work with. Everyone is busy with his or her own work, so while providing me with a response or information is PART of the job for other people, it’s not the highest priority. I can be patient, and I have no problem following up with people; but I realize that I can’t hold everyone to the standards that I expect. In “my” world, I’d like to receive a response to any email I write within 5 minutes… that’s totally unrealistic, but it’s what I would like. Some people get back to me instantly, while others take a few days or even a few weeks at times. And that’s just how it goes. Some people prefer doing business face-to-face, while other prefer using the phone. I prefer email to all other forms of communication at work - I find it to be the clearest for daily interactions and projects. My second choice is face-to-face contact/conversation, especially when it’s a group. I dislike the phone and voicemail thing. That’s just me.

I also like mixing mayonnaise with ketchup when I get fries, I enjoy running my air purifier to create white noise and only enjoy the air cleaning benefits as a secondary benefit, and I like creating to-do lists for work while I’m at home. I’ve never tried to pass myself off like a normal person (if such an archetype exists) and I think that all my quirks are what grant me and define my character.

However, my eyelids are growing heavy and the headache has lessened a wee bit. I will attempt to sleep, even without a new bedtime book at the ready.