By Beauty Damned

To the Tune of a Tiny Violin

I am going to rename my blog Delinquent Blogger. What do you think? It fits right?

I have rarely felt as tired as I have these last few weeks. Don't know what's up. I'm just fuckin tired. Feel kinda blah. Like I don't want to go to work in the morning or be there all day. Have other things I'd rather be doing. I just want to be on vacation. I'm taking a week at the end of April and really looking forward to it. I'm not going anywhere. Just staying home. I haven't planned a weeklong vacation to just stay in my house in years. I'm going to study like a madwoman. A week later I will take my SAT. I can't believe how close it's getting! So much still to do. Going to work everyday just feels like an obstacle to doing the things I really need to do. But how can I really accomplish any of those things if I'm not pulling in that paycheck? I can't. And it's not like it's a bad job, it's not. It's a great job, it's just in the way right now. I can't really picture what it will be like to go to school and work at the same time. I hope it doesn't kill me.

I've blogged about some things, but the drafts seem so rough and plaintive that I've decided to refrain from posting them for now. I've become totally irrelevant. Boo hoo. Damn real life.

Where Men Rule

Cover of AM-NY today says "TOUCHDOWN! - Jets likely to score stadium approval today from MTA" Wow. What a surprise. Our conservative politicians and ex-politicians here in New York are pushing through on their pet plan to build a new stadium on the west side of Manhattan. I have a problem with this. Are you surprised?

Here's my problem: The westside stadium will cost taxpayers a shitload of money. The other proposals put before the MTA have been from companies like Madison Square Garden, whose plans would be paid for privately, not by taxpayers, and would affectively create a thriving community far friendlier than that which I and others imagine would spawn from the construction and existence of a football stadium.

Watching Rudy Giuliani push this plan in TV ads is like watching an insurance salesman try to sell a policy that will ultimately cost way more in the long run than any payout will ever amount to. Bloomberg has been touting this thing for months while union workers support it wholeheartedly for the jobs that the building of the stadium will provide. Sure, that is a great thing, but do I want to pay for it? Not so much.

Not while Bloomberg goes on about how all us NYers just have to suck it up that there's a huge budget gap. We have to pay super high parking fines ($110!) and crazy transportation tolls to supplement the city and the MTA's budget; our schools apparently never have enough money, our trains and roads are underserviced while we pay more to utilize them, and then we have to pay out the other end for a football stadium so that we can be fabulous and have the Olympics here rather than opting for a plan that would save taxpayers money, generate revenue for the MTA, and enrich the community rather than turn it into another sports arena? What will be, will be, and obviously I can't stop it, nor can anyone else who has tried diligently to keep our tax dollars from being spent on this extravagant demonstration of sportsmanship. Madison Square Garden has made an offer that makes sense more to the community, but less to olympic dreams and football fancies. But we already have two stadiums in New York City. Do we really need another one? More than anything?

Last quote on NY1 from Mike Bloomberg was something directed at the other bidders and those who oppose the stadium, not to be poor sports about losing out to the sweetheart football stadium bid. The deal will cost the taxpayers hundreds of millions of dollars, but will satisfy this need that these men have to build an arena for their macho games. It's really symbolic if you think about it. Mike says "don't cry about it and take your ball and go home." Thanks Bloomie. I'm sure that came right from the heart.

Chicken Soup & Chocolate Brownies

Happy Easter my friends! What doing?

We're headed off to Kat and Chas's house for an Easter Potluck Feast. I have held off eating anything all day so that I can be famished once we get there. I have prepared a red bliss potato salad as my contribution to the bounty. Went over to visit Kathleen yesterday and she was preparing some heavenly sounding sweet potato/carrot cake thingy. Yummmm...can't wait.

Speaking of food, my friend Angela was here again this past week. She left on Thursday and when I came home that evening from work, she'd left me a couple of big containers of amazing chicken-vegetable soup and a heaping plate of brownies. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed these things. The soup she made was incredible; chock full of onions, garlic, ginger, carrots, chicken and big hearty noodles. It had a great spicy flavor that instantly cleared the sinuses and made the taste buds do a happy dance. Real chicken soup for the soul, that's for sure.

And those brownies...those brownies possibly saved the life of my boyfriend Rob during a serious bout of PMS. If not for the healing powers of those blissful, chocolatey treats, it might have been a total meltdown scenario on Thursday and Friday.

Thanks Angela! Few parting gifts could beat that one.

After This I'll Shut Up About It

Read an interesting article that largely discounts any concerns about Terry Schiavo's death by starvation being an agonizing way to go. When I read this I said to myself, you know, it doesn't sound like the worst way to die. In fact, if my own (hopefully far off) passing could be so peaceful, I wouldn't complain. I think it's absolutely astounding how Jeb Bush tried to intervene by taking Schiavo into protective custody, claiming that some doctor says that she's probably not even in a persistent vegitative state, regardless of the fact that this doctor has never even examined Schiavo, and she's been in this condition for fifteen years.

All these "right to life-ers" (people who think that murdering arabs and putting inmates to death is okay, but having mercy on a braindead woman is evil) are all up in arms that starvation is such a godawful way to die. I don't buy it.

And not to be crass, but the girl is only in her current position in the first place because she was bulemic and she starved and binged herself into a vegetative, brain-dead state. Do you really think she should be forced to continue living off of a feeding tube?

Pre Menstrual Political Angst

Regardless of what the White House Propagandists say about this Schiavo case not setting any precedent and the bill that Bush signed this morning being "narrowly tailored and not intended as a precedent for Congress to step into battles over the fate of seriously disabled or terminally ill patients," I think it doesn't exactly take a genius to see that it sets a precedent. What was so special about this case that the President of the United States had to step in at "1:08 a.m.," to sign new bills and spout retoric about the sanctity of life? Of course it sets a precedent. It lets everyone in this godforsaken country know that none of us are safe from the long arm of this administration. With each and every day, the merciless arch conservatives step up their fascism to a new level. Forever using this disingenuous line of countertruths about caring for each precious human life, while in other parts of the world we do nothing less than actively seek to extinguish the lives of other human beings. (I always forget that only Americans have the right to live - and only those Americans whose misfortune you can effectively take advantage of to further your rightwing Christian agenda and those Americans who are not yet born into this world.) Here they come! They're driving up into your driveway with their caravan of Ultimate Authority, fueled by greed, repression and the intention to wield unbridled control over every aspect of our lives! Our choices about reproduction, our access to and decisions about drugs and healthcare, our financial security, our environment, our sexual preferences, our right to live or die in the case that we are terminally ill or permanently incapacitated.

The worst part about all this is the pretense under which Bush is acting, which is that he has a genuine concern for the sanctity of human life at all. Conservatives are all about having the right to decide who should live and who should die. There is no genuine interest in enforcing the rules of compassion, respect and the preservation of each sentient life. As exemplified here:

The Schiavo case resonated through the president's day as Mr. Bush found himself on the defensive against accusations from Democrats that his signature on the bill was inconsistent with a Texas law he signed as governor in 1999.

"Clearly there has been some hypocrisy here," said Representative Debbie Wasserman-Schultz, Democrat of Florida, who first raised the issue on Sunday on the House floor.

The Texas law allows a patient's surrogate, like Ms. Schiavo's husband, the right to make end-of-life decisions. But it ultimately gives hospitals the right to withdraw life support if there is no hope of revival, regardless of family wishes. Under the law, a critically ill 5-month-old was taken off life support and allowed to die last week in Texas, even though his mother objected.

And this new development does not set a precedent? It sets a precedent with respect to how much the government is truly entitled to meddle in one's personal family affairs. It also further cements the permanent employment of the ever effective tactic of bullshitting the American people straight to their faces, manipulating them at every turn and then shrugging off the hypocrisy and claiming that they've acted consistently the whole time. Consistently fucked! So how much can Congress and the White House itself meddle in your personal affairs? The message here is: as much as they motherfuckin want to. So take that and cry about it to your silly old "Constitution." Congress can move in on you and your business anytime baby. Any damn time. And our newly dominant, vastly self righteous and overbearing, neo-conservative government is ready to prove just how deep they can and will dig their claws into our lives over the next four years.

As for all the grandstanding about precious human life that has been done by Bush and his numerous lapdogs with respect to this Schiavo situation, I would just like to say PUHLEEEAZE. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Does anyone actually buy that load of dung? Have you ever heard anything so brazenly hypocritical and either completely dillusional or frighteningly calculated (I can never tell which one it is with Bush & Co.)? Oh yes, I guess we have, for the past four fucking years. I look forward to many more peaceful, prosperous and judicious times in the years ahead.

.....

>sob<

Noise

So I've been crazy ordering cds off of Amazon lately. After my horrible experience with cheap-cds.com last time (worst customer service EVER), I had to find a new place to purchase cds at better prices than the outrageous markups retailers tack on. Amazon is good, Amazon is great. I'm a happy camper.

Some of the cds that I've bought recently that seriously kick ass (some are ones that I used to have on vinyl or tape and needed to reacquire on cd):

Jack Johnson - In Between Dreams
Donovan Frankenreiter - Self Titled
Prince - Purple Rain
Cat Stevens - Greatest Hits
Andre Nickatina - Hells Kitchen
Andre Nickatina - Bullets Blunts and ah Big Bankroll
Andre Nickatina - Conversation with a Devil (slightly obsessed)
Peter Murphy - Wild Birds
World Party - Bang

Checking out any or all these cds could be incredibly good for your health.

Speaking of music, last night was a whole new experience in the world of music for me. My friend Angela is here visiting (which, I might add, I am completely elated about from the top of my head to the tips of my toes) so we got together with Charles and Kathleen and went to something called the No Fun [Noise]Fest. There were a bunch of bands playing, including one called "Prurient" which includes a friend of Angela's as one of the members. These bands played, well, noise. Apparently, this genre has a huge following, but I had never attended a show. Angela told me my dad sent her a noise cd awhile back. I had no idea my dad listened to noise.

Anyway, it was an otherworldly experience. The show was at my favorite rock venue in Brooklyn, The Hook. It's a great club with a unique setting, plenty of space, good drinks, ambience that reminds me slightly of the haunted house at Disneyland without the ghosts or cheesetastic tricks. In this case, they served up juicy hotdogs off the grill on the back patio and had a whole merchandising area set up downstairs in the basement where you could purchase band music and memorabilia. So that brings us to the music. Which is not really music at all the way that I have always thought of music. It's sound, minus any melody, and adding in a shitload of squealing feedback from the amplifiers in the most deliberate, drawn out fashion imagineable. This is music that comes to get you. It takes you to a different place. It forces you to try to ride the sound like a wave. You have to stay steady. You have to relax. It was almost therapeutic and definitely intense.

When we heard the first band after we arrived, I assumed (and admittedly, hoped desperately) that the feedback and grinding noises were eventually going to fade out and they were going to launch into a euphoric opening guitar riff. Never happened. And then I understood. This is not like any other kind of show you will ever go to. Eventually, I was sold, and my anxiety subsided. I stopped wondering when the song was going to start and found myself on a whole different plane of consciousness. No, there was no LSD in my hotdog, nor in the peanut butter fudge I ate nor in glasses of vanilla vodka and soda that I consumed. I'm sure the alcohol buzz helped though. At one point we were sitting on the bleacher-style seats in the back of the room. I sat one step below Charles and Kathleen and Angela. I was so completely enveloped in the sound, not having any conscious thoughts, the noise reaching its crescendo, when Angela hopped down from her seat and sat right next to me and threw her arms around me all in one swift motion. I found myself instantaneously in tears. It was an unbelievable rush of emotion as I was brought back to reality; the reality that I was sitting next to this person who I have known since I was just a little kid. A person that I met during one of the most vividly memorable periods of my life, when we lived in student housing and my dad was going to school and my brother got pesticides poisoning and I was SEVEN. One of the sharpest pinnacles in my memory was that year that I met Angela and her family. The fact that I haven't seen her in 8 years and that she was there at that moment beside me, expressing her love for me with that impulsive hug, was like a deep trigger. Kathleen was also moved by Angela's gesture.

After that "song," we left The Hook and walked to a place nearby called "Schnack." Schnack wins my vote as the absolute, hands down, best latenight grub that I've ever had. And they even have a blog! It is like White Castle but a thousand times better and with beer floats. Yes. BEER FLOATS. A glass of beer with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream in it. I am so hooked, it's not even funny. The mini sliders or "schnackies" (flat little hamburgers) are phenomenal, fries: perfect, beer float: totally tubular. And it's open at one o'clock in the morning. So last night was pretty close to heaven.

We walked back to Kathleen and Charles's house and called a car to take me and Angela back to my house.

Woke up this morning and dragged myself to my Kaplan class, which was more excruciating than usual (if that's actually possible) due to the fucking idiots that teenagers are. Yes I know. I was once a teenager. And I'm now willing to admit that I was a fucking idiot too. Four boys sat skewed together in one corner of the class, making noise, cracking jokes and generally acting like fools. The girl a couple rows in front of me couldn't stop fucking with her hair for two minutes. If I had a nickle for every time this girl pulled the "Yankees" scrunchie out of her hair, combed her fingers through it, and put it back into a ponytail I would have left that class with like twenty bucks. Then there was the girl who - in the midst of the teacher's instruction about how one would go about writing on the essay topic: Is the advice of others ever truly useful? - asked the following question: "so, like, if I wanted to say in my essay that Vanessa sleeps around too much and someone gave her the advice that she shouldn't be such a ho, like, that's good advice right?"

Hmmm. There's something to ponder.

So that was class. But I did manage to learn a thing or two anyway, so all was not lost.

The Bubble Bursts

I have so much to say. So much, all bundled up inside of me, waiting to come out. Actually, rather than bundled, it's more like strewn around in a ramshackle fashion and I just need the energy to gather it all together and put it out by the door. I can't even discuss politics these days without getting severely anxious.

The Bush administration is fanning out the arms of its private little club, filling important government seats and offices with buddies, regardless of whether or not they're qualified (and they're clearly NOT). It's the worst kind of nepotism. Karen Hughes as undersecretary of State; John Bolton as Ambassador to the U.N. (regardless of his public statements in the past discounting the U.N.s significance and the effectiveness of U.N. diplomacy); Paul Wolfowitz as president of the World Bank...

Then there is the social security issue which makes me so angry that I find it hard to even address it without wanting to tear my hair out at the very idea that anyone could support something that is going to be detrimental to the financial security of millions of Americans. Since when is every young American an expert Wall Street investor capable of bringing in a steady, dependable, longterm income which will guarantee their ability to stay afloat later in life? With (Bush friendly) companies like WorldCom, Tyco and Enron biting the dust due to fraud, how are we supposed to trust that our money is safe on Wall Street? And how are we suppose to be convinced that gambling in a highstakes arena like the stock market is the best way to ensure financial security for ourselves and our families? The entire thing infuriates me beyond rational belief. Especially knowing that the proposal to privatize is one more way for Bush to throw our money into the pockets of his already filthy rich constituents at the expense of average Americans. Just as the war has been.

Then there is the recent bankruptcy bill that passed, making way for creditors to maintain the upper hand, rich people to save their assets from bankruptcy, and the poor to flounder and suffocate beneath the weight of their debt. Oh yes, and the fact that the "democrats" who are supposed to be protecting the interests of those poor people went ahead and voted yes to the bill, proving once again how spineless and utterly useless they are and confirming to me that the republicans have really gained every bit of footing that they need to destroy the fucking world under their rule.

All this on top of the endless quest to oppress and discriminate against gays and lesbians, to censor every last person who would think to protest, to blur the lines between church and state, to pursue environmental destruction and extinction of humane practices... it's exhausting to think about and ultimately more depressing than anything I can imagine. I abhor what our world and our country is becoming under the iron fist of conservatism.

Serious Wisdom

Nothing beats Calvin & Hobbes when you're looking for something deep and philosophical.

Call Me!

So I'm trying to figure out how to slow down time. It's passing too, too quickly. Right now I feel like I'm in a car going a hundred miles an hour and life happens to be the pine trees lining the road, flashing by in my peripheral vision, before I can blink my eyes I'm in a completely different place and time. Whoa!

I went to my Kaplan class today and took another four hour SAT practice test. I felt slightly more confident about the math this time around, but I took more time on each section to make sure I wasn't making mistakes, so I was slow on finishing. I probably did better than last time, but it also took longer. I know I did well on my essay. I scored highest possible last time and I feel like my essay was just as strong this time around. That's where I feel most confident. The rest is just all about a lot of study and practice.

So the first group of kids ever took the new 2005 SATs today. I was reading about it and I feel a great sense of relief that I waited until now to take this test. (My test date is May 7) After reading about the old test I realized that it would have been much harder for me than the one I am actually going to take, despite the fact that this one has more math. All those quantitative comparisons and analogies. I could do it, but I have a feeling that this probably is a better test all around than the old. I can't say for sure, but I have a feeling.

So when I got home today and checked the mail, there was a package waiting from a very old friend who I haven't been in touch with for years. She enclosed a long, wonderful letter clueing me in to all the details of her life, her marriage and the birth of her child (who is now 11 months old). She also included a couple of her husband Daryl's cds of him and his band. They sound good. It was such a nice surprise to hear from her. Celeste was one of my closest friends and really, the first girlfriend that I had when I moved to Oregon from California as a teenager. I have hundreds of great memories of our times together. But you know, people go separate ways and that's life. But it's always nice when they pop back up once in awhile. I wrote a letter to a mutual friend of ours recently and asked about Celeste, so Jess must have passed on the inquiry. She wrote all about marriage and motherhood. She expresses her thoughts beautifully in writing, so each page was an absolute pleasure to read. There's nothing like old fashioned letter writing. Email could really just never quite live up to the way it feels to get a postmarked, handwritten message in your mailbox from a dear friend. It's one of those precious things that would be a terrible shame to ever do away with completely just because there are faster ways to communicate.

On top of all that, my old friend Angela called me who I've known since I was seven years old (though we met when our families lived in Los Angeles and haven't lived in the same town since we were kids). Every few years, we connect again. Mostly because of her stalwart friendship and fearlessness in making contact. She's a fabulous human being and she's visiting her mother in Connecticut so I may actually get a chance to see her for the first time in about eight years. My favorite memory of Angela and I is when we lived in UCLA student housing on Sawtelle or maybe it was Sepulveda, doesn't matter. We moved from one to the other. Anyway, she and I were playing hide n' seek with some other kids and we hid on the second floor of the complex under a rug that was hanging over the railing which overlooked the courtyard. We were just discovering Madonna at that point in our lives. As we crouched there, sandwiched between the flaps of a dusty area rug, she whispered to me "pssst. What does 'virgin' mean?" Having no idea whatsoever, I responded, "I can't tell you. It's really bad." I don't know why, I'll never forget that. I still have an excellent photo of Angela, her sister Rachel, and I, when we were very small, all lined up in a row with these precious ruffled dresses, socks and girlish shoes on and our fingers stuck in our eyes, ears and mouths, contorting each of our "innocent" little faces into an expression of pure mischief. That picture truly captured the spirit of the three of us...not the most surprising allusion to the future. I'll have to dig it out one of these days.

So after reading Celeste's letter and writing her back an 11 page novel (I had things to tell her! A few years is a long time.) and after trying Angela back at her mom's house, Darcie called me on the phone and we talked for awhile. That's never boring. I topped off my string of "keeping in touch" by calling my parent's house and getting inconceivably lucky enough that my brother actually picked up the phone. No one picks up the phone at my family's house. When I was visiting last time, it would ring and Josh could be sitting two feet away from it, he wouldn't bother to answer unless he was expecting a call. My parents don't answer either half the time. They just let it ring. Makes me crazy sometimes and I start leaving desperate messages on the answering machine. "Is anyone there? Is everyone alive?"

So I got Josh on the phone and we talked for a little while. I'm telling you, something in this universe aligned to my benefit this week and I got a chance to hear from the people who mean the most to me. My sister has been emailing, I went out yesterday with Kathleen. I feel warm and fuzzy with familial love. Maybe next time I call my mother will answer. That would be a miracle. But a girl can hope.

Absentee

Wow. I cannot believe it has been seven days since I've posted. I don't know how the internet managed to drop down about five notches on my list of priorities, but it's happened. :o( I feel like I have so much to say. I am going to sit down and write a freakin opus this weekend.

Just thought I'd drop in and let ya'll know that I am still alive, I have not dropped off the face of the planet, and no, I have not given up blogging. Just a little hiatus. Now I have to get to work on the studying before I end up being a total slackass tonight. It's too easy to slip lazily, happily into the night without preparing for tomorrow. Can't let that happen.

What the Fuck?

Was just watching a re-run of Jon Stewart and couldn't help but notice a segment on gay and lesbian content on television shows like the Simpsons, where they showed a clip of the spokesperson for "Concerned Women for America" speaking out against any allusion to gays and lesbians in tv (and presumably books, music and any other form of artistic expression - or any expression at all for that matter). As was so candidly pointed out on Jon Stewart, the spokesperson for Concerned Women for America is a man.

Does this surprise me? Not really, considering how fucking whacked out these people are in every other aspect of their fascist meanderings. It makes perfect sense that they would have a male spokesperson. There's nobody better at oppressing others than an internally oppressed man.

And We're Off!

Another crazy week gone and another busy weekend lies ahead. I won't have a chance to blog at all this weekend, so I thought I'd say a little something while I have the opportunity.

I'd like to apologize to readers who have come to expect daily updates and at least a touch of current events. I know I haven't been the best mommy to my blog lately and my head has been buried so far in my own world that any news that I do find interesting never makes it onto this page as I only seem to find just enough energy to register daily events and move on.

When I do write at length it is only a window into the things that are going on in my life. I wish I had more than that to give right now. I miss the hours I used to spend perusing articles and getting fired up about things that matter far more than the little dramas of my daily life or my own minute observations. But this is where I'm at. I know eventually the cycle will spin me back around to the other side where I find myself looking out a little more than looking in.

This weekend Rob and I are taking off to Virginia. Just the two of us. I'm looking forward to it. But we'll also be working the whole weekend and there will be no computer. I know I always say this, but, there's always NEXT WEEK! :o) In the meantime...XOXOXOXOXO

As the Law Office Turns

Back is doing really bad. Lotta pain. Can't stay on the computer for that long. Waaah.

*I don't want to blow anyone's identity, so this entry is evasive in that respect.*

Today was a crazy day filled with office dramas. That seems to be what my life has mainly consisted of lately. More office drama than anyone on god's green earth would want to witness or be party to. Dealing with people is not easy. Not all the time. Not when you practically live with these people. Conflicts have to arise. It's inevitable. But you hope you're never the one who's actually having these conflicts or that when they do arise, they are silent and quick in passing. And then it happens. A snippy exchange, an unwelcome word of advice, the dreaded email, a moment of contention, a hasty phone call that escalates into unkind assumptions...it could be anything. But the reality is that at one time or another, when working closely with people, you are going to get super irritated with someone at one point or another. It's just a question of how you deal with these moments that really counts.

I'm not always the best at dealing with those moments. I have a tendency to say what's on my mind. Honestly, I try to be tactful and say things to people in a way that is not going to have their feathers fluttering or make them feel that an accusation is being made. But sometimes you say a thing to the wrong person and they in turn repeat it to another person and before you know it, you're learning a lesson about saying presumably benign things to the wrong person. And other times you might just say something that makes a person react violently or emotionally without that being the intended purpose.

I know men have this problem all the time in dealing with women. They say something and the woman breaks down crying and the guy is standing there wondering what the hell he did wrong. To the guys out there, I felt your pain today. I made someone cry and it made me feel bad but I really didn't feel that I'd done anything wrong but voice a simple thought that had entered my head and appeared to be important enough to relay. Later on, after my necessary apology, I came to understand that I was not the only contributing factor in my friend/co-worker's emotional "moment" (I'm sorry, I could not come up with a better word, and "episode" doesn't seem fair for public use) and of course, there are other stresses that were building up to the moment where I, apparently, broke the camel's back with my unwanted input.

I was standing up for someone. I always get in trouble when I stand up for people, but I can't help that impulse in myself. I have always been that girl. The person I was standing up for is not a weakling. Not someone who can't stand up for herself, but at that moment I felt that I could make a simple suggestion that would save her from future inconvenience. I made that suggestion to her boss, a young associate who also happens to be a relatively dear friend to me. Her boss: I have known her as long as I've worked at the current firm (2 yrs). I knew her when she got her bar license. I have been a secretary far longer than she's been a lawyer and she's shown me a great deal of love, respect and admiration. She has given me gifts, I have given her gifts, we have shared some of our darkest thoughts and memories and many of those things that are secret from anyone else in the office, with eachother.

My other friend (the one I was voluntarily speaking for): we are both secretaries, our desks are adjacent to one another. We could spend hours and hours together and never run out of things to talk about. I adore her. We both have big dreams and aspirations and vibrant lives outside of work. One of the big differences between she and I is that I have been a secretary for a long time and it has been nothing less than a great career for me personally (though I fully intend to abandon it one day to pursue my more heartfelt endeavors), while she has been pursuing her most heartfelt dreams for years since she graduated from college with an Arts degree. Being a secretary is nothing more than a paycheck for her. For me, it is a vital component in my life's passage. Being enveloped in the world of legal practice is a big part of who I am. Nonetheless, we are very close in age and get along like peas and carrots.

Anyway, I felt compelled to tell my lawyer friend that the way she was delegating work to my secretary/artist friend was not so efficient. I know, I know. It's like, "Maria! Shut your fucking mouth, wouldja?" Well that was the look that my lawyer friend gave me. She also had words for me and I responded with more words, but more tentatively than the first time I'd opened my mouth to speak. She went in to her office and wrote me an email. The email turned into a closed-door office conversation that turned into tears that turned into me going back to my desk and wondering what the hell I did so wrong that this poor girl had broken down crying and asked me to get out of her office. While my secretary/artist friend thanked me for intervening and for my stalwart loyalty, we both realized that the worst was yet to come. Needless to say, a partner got involved, albeit the coolest wiseman imagineable, and with his impeccable guidance, all was eventually resolved.

My apology was accepted and the latter half of the day improved greatly from the first half, for me at least. My secretary/artist friend and I went out for a drink after work to hash it out and analyze the situation and future impact of this petty upset.

Ah, life's small circles. It's the way we run. Now seriously, my back is absolutely killing me. What is going on?

It's-ah-Happenin'

Our move to the new office is complete. I have managed to unpack almost every single box that was placed at my desk with the exception of one that will require a few hours of undivided attention. My boss's office is a different story. He has box upon box of redweld upon redweld that need to be attended to. That is going to have to be a joint effort between he and I. Last week was our first in the new office and it took everything I had to focus on one task at a time and take each in stride without becoming distracted and bogged down by the thoughts about how much was left to be done. Of course that anxiety was combined with uncertainty about the new environment. Our old office was relatively small compared to this one. The new floor is huge. It now takes five minutes just to get to the bathroom where before it took one minute. I feel like I've gotten a great deal of exercise since we arrived, from walking all over the godforsaken floor a thousand times not to mention the trek up stairs and escalators and elevators and across all the sprawling lobbies and concourses on the way from the train to my office. For the first two days I felt persistently lost because of the new labyrinth, always ending up on the opposite side of the floor from where I wanted to be, having no idea where I went wrong. How did I get here? My head was spinning from walking in circles.

I have gone from working on the east side of midtown in a *partly* residential neighborhood (despite being across from the "terrorist targeted" Citicorp building and only a few steps from mass commerce - it was really only "residential" compared to where we are now) to working directly above one of the busiest places in the country: Grand Central Station. It makes our old neighborhood look like the suburbs. I have never worked in an area this busy in my entire life. The closest I've come to passing through such a congested location on foot on a daily basis was when I lived in New Jersey several years ago and commuted through the Port Authority daily. This is a zoo, teeming with frenetic energy and thousands of people every day.

Grand Central Station is a beautiful building, filled with hundreds of things to see and do. The Transit Museum is there, the shops and restaurants are totally worthy, and just standing in the middle of the Grand Concourse and tuning out the rest of the universe to look up at the incredible architecture and unique details of this amazing place is liable to provoke a great epiphany of some kind if you do it right.

I cross this room at least twice a day now. I was struck by the most profound feeling of awe that first evening after work last Tuesday when I descended the escalators into Grand Central during rush hour. When the floor of the concourse came into view I was stunned by how many people there were and how fast they were moving. It was like watching a scene on fast forward. It didn't even look real to me. My heart sprung into my throat for a second. I felt suddenly as if this was my first day in New York all over again. I'll never forget that feeling of my first first day more than four years ago. Trying to maintain my confidence and headstrong stride amidst a world so fast, buildings that were inconceivably taller and stronger than me and people who didn't seem to be watching out for anyone but themselves. (Of course, most buildings are taller than me, but when you live in a small town, you feel like you're on the scale. The first time in New York City, you feel like you've been knocked off the scale.) I adjusted rather quickly (I think), as I'm adjusting to my newest work environment too.

In one way I like it intensely. On another level I feel like it's exhausting just being there. I think that will subside after awhile. I like my new work space and I'm happy with the setup for the most part.

Got home tonight to find the World Party cd that I ordered in the mail. It's called "Bang!" and I've been waiting for it for weeks. Absolutely love it. I picked up a nice bottle of white wine on the way home so I'm just going to relax and listen to this cd a couple times and drink as much of the vino as strikes my fancy.