The ghost that stole my apartment

Someone stole my apartment - quite possibly a ghost. I found a little apartment in alphabet city (Avenues A,B,C,D) for sale. The broker told me she believes I could make a fair bid asking 30,000 less the price tag. I like it a lot. I cannot say it is true love. I am rarely in enamored by anything being skeptical by nature. The add says "bright" which I assume meant sunny. Apparently this is not what they meant as there is a wall perhaps 5 feet off from 2 of the main windows making it rather grey. So while I was pondering whether I should make a bid the broker emails me that someone has made a bid for the full asking price and if I want to make a matching bid. Um, no I think, not unless the neighboring apartment blocking the sunlight can be moved allowing me to have the bright apartment mentioned in the add.

Being of a sinister and pessimistic NY nature, I wonder if there is an actual bid or rather a bluff from the broker with the intention of encouraging me a full bid.

Hudson valley area

I want to move the Hudson Valley Area in some rural property. I want a farm house that's immersed in a forest of trees. I want a trail that will take me to a stream. I want to smell the earth after it rains. I want to hear nature and nothing else. I want to be able to sit in nature and not meet another soul for hours and reflect on the beauty of it all.

I don't want to commute. I don't want to work in an office. I don't know what I shall do.

Fall

It seems fall suddenly crept up on us. It's November so I suppose we can consider it late.

The chilled winds are howling and and shaking our trees and their remaining leaves like mother nature cleaning up and blowing summer away. The sky is a serious grey as if clothed in some dark suit awaiting some momentous occasion and I am hiding in my bath tub with a fine book listening to the house creak with the sounds of heat being pumped up. Its funny, during these colder seasons it seems there is no better place to be then at home. There is no want, need or desire, just the here and now and my tiny pink toes sticking out of the water.

Three trees one listens

The Liar

I am not getting enough sleep. I am an 8 hour sleeper. I can even push 9 if convenient or sometimes even when not convenient but much needed. In any case I seem to be getting to bed later and later, most unfortunately the time I must awaken to make my train has not changed. And it is always too early and apparently getting earlier as I am sleeping later. Now you think that a reasonable person with fine analytical skills would go to sleep earlier in order to escape this painful routine. And in the morning, as my alarm rings and I tap the snooze button thinking about how I will make up the time, to catch said train on time, I promise myself in the most sincere manner that tonight I will sleep earlier. I promise this to myself like a gift. I look forward to it and placate my desire to remain in bed with it. I fool myself, I trick myself, I lie to myself, because as the hours tick away at night, I become involved in mundane web searches, listening to music, or reading. The hours tick away without my notice. And then in the morning as the sun rises and the alarm rings the deceit recommences once again.

Escalators

Escalators. So here you are behind a line of people that are moving politely up the elevator when you get close to the top the people at the very end suddenly become elevator edge shy. And they just stop as the edge looms closer and everyone behind them must sit and wait for them to do the simplest task of stepping over the edge. Why is this so difficult for some? Surely they must understand that the people behind them are staring angrily at the back of their necks muttering curses …. But no, it seems it's the edge is what they fear most.

Just wondering

I wonder if i scare off potential readers with my childish pictures. Perhaps they open it and think....this is a childs blog how cute, click, exit.

I am prone to childish behavior and I wonder if somehow this doesn't sabotage me....in an adult world.

The Children

She was supposed to keep the children for one week. One week would be ok she thinks. She couldn’t say no. Not after what had happened. She closes her eyes trying to remember their faces. She has pictures but they are in dusty boxes she hasn’t opened. She sighs…One week, only one week. She books her itinerary and throws her beige suitcase on her antique bed. Her mothers old bed, who had once belonged to her grandmother. Now it was hers.

Sitting on the plane rubbing her hands together she realizes she has made the same gesture for too long, her neighbor looks at her uncomfortably and her hands are pink. Its strange her sister asked her to take care of the children, the new children. I mean after the accident, it wasn’t her fault of course. But anyway, that was long ago. Someone taps her shoulder hard she looks up at the stewardess who from what it appears on her face has been trying to get her attention for a while. “Chicken or beef?” “What? Oh, yes ok chicken, Thanks.” Still its strange she hasn’t heard from them in so long. She can barely eat but keeps looking at her watch. She doesn’t understand why she is so anxious and thinks perhaps it’s the house and them, all those memories. She falls into an anxious sleep where she sees the childrens bodies lined up in the grass. She is cold and clammy. She discreetly swallows 2 blue pills. One week, next Monday she will be back in New York. One little week. One little week. She keeps repeating to herself.

The taxi rides in the middle of the dark night is so long it is as if it will has no end and that the drive itself is the objective. Or perhaps there is not objective but it’s a lesson in futility. There are pines trees on both sides of the road enclosing them in somber tunnel. Its very cold and the taxi driver has let the window open which blows in the back seat making her shiver. Instead of saying anything she wraps her sweater tighter. Its seems to her that all the streets they take lead to nowhere and there are no street lights so its like they are always on the same street and have not made any progress. If there are houses they must be off small roads or deeper somewhere…she thinks. Why all these roads, there is nothing here. All this space and all these roads and nothing but dark pines and a moonless night. Her mind wanders to when they were children and her mother use to lock them in the basement as punishment….but that was a long time ago.

Her sister welcomes her with a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for coming. Listen we know this is all very last minute, but Dan’s heart is troubling him again and we were lucky to get this appointment with this Doctor, its just a shame he is so far.” She opens her mouth to ask her sister how far, and where, but closes it promptly knowing it will be taken badly. “if you don’t want to do this just tell us.” Her sister motions to her to take off her shoes and they climb upstairs quietly. She opens the door, see, your same room. She can feel her self suffocating. She tries to breathe but coughs. Concerned her sister looks at her “Do you need some water?” She shakes her head and follows her sister out of the room. Now listen, all our info is in the kitchen drawer, numbers, hotels and you have some friends numbers as well. OK, so it seems you are all set. She moves in to give her quick hug. She feels herself stiffen “you are leaving right away”. Her sister smiles, and pats her you will be fine, “Dan left a few hours ago on an early flight I want to help him get settled in you know how it is”.

She walks her sister out. And notices she doesn’t have any luggage. “Don’t you have any bags?” “No, Dan left with everything, it’s only a week you know me, I don’t need much.”

She can see that a taxi has been waiting for her behind some dark pine trees on the road and she wonders how long he has been waiting and how strange it was that she didn’t hear him call. I mean surely even in this remote location and especially in this remote location they should call upon arrival. Her sister looks at her for a minute without saying anything and then just vanishes in the taxi. She looks at the house. It casts a shadow over and she can now see things she didn’t notice when she first came in. The paint is pealing and one of the window panes are broken. Its just a slight fracture, but it really could have been fixed. The house is dark, there is just a little light in the living room. Last time she was here there, there was no tv, something about reception. She thinks absently, she will just have to read and the children are sure to keep her busy.

Standing at the foot of the steps she wonders should she look in on the children. She was sent pictures of them but she hardly remembers how they look. She starts going upstairs to check on them, maybe they woke up, but then she stops at the third step and realizes she can’t go up the steps alone. She tries to laugh, which sounds strange in the silent house. She holds the banister strongly willing herself to climb but unable. I am just tired, its been a long day. I will go eat something then I will go upstairs. It’s fine. But the house is so quiet, she is not use to such a silence. She tries humming to cover it. It sounds hollow and small as if the house is mocking her. She humms louder as she tries to find something in the kitchen. In the kitchen she finds some bread and she tries to open a drawer which refuses to open. She humms lounder and pulls harder. But it refuses to budge. It must be stuck. She spots a spatula and across the room and reaches for it to wedge it in the drawer as she hears a squeak and the drawer lies open. She stops humming doesn’t move. The silence resumes. She loses track of time but feels she has been standing motionless a few feet from the drawer and leaves the kitchen keep her eye on it. A cold sweat forms behind her neck which feels stiff.

She sits on the sofa and doesn’t move, doesn’t hum, doesn’t sleep. She can feel her heart beating hard, she is shaking. In her mind she sees the drawer open. Perhaps she opened it. She must have been tired, she must of opened it and turned her head when she spotted the spatula. She left all the light on and found a stereo she turned on lightly afraid to wake the children but turns it off. She can’t hear anything if she turns it on. She sits back on the sofa until the sun comes up the next morning. She feels better and the house seems warmer. She was tired. It took a lot out of her to come here. She looks at the steps but starts shaking at the thought of going up. She looks at the phone and thinks of calling a taxi. She could take the kids to NY, it would just be a matter of booking a few tickets. But this is ludicrous, what would she tell her sister, she is being ridiculous. No, she will just wait for the kids to come down and make breakfast and she thinks of the drawer and and feels cold. She left the drawer open. She closes her eyes and tries to calm herself. She is shaking again.

Its noon the sun is overhead and there is no sound in the house. She calls them from the landing but nothing. Then she sees a ball roll down the steps. She picks it up at the landing and goes up the steps calling the children. She open the doors and the bedrooms are exactly the way the other children. There are no new children. There are no children. There never have been. She drops the balls on the ground and feels her legs barely holding her. She runs to the bathroom and throws up and then again. Her face is white and when she looks in the mirror she thinks she can make out a small shape moving behind her. She screams. Bracing herself she walks to her sisters room to call a taxi. This must be some sort of punishment. She is crying. After all these years she never forgave her. The phone is dead. She must of cut the lines. She can’t believe this. Well they must have the truck. She walks out of the house, and past the garden angels when she stops and looks down. These are not garden statues, these are tombs of the children. She bends down to look. She had said she wanted them close to her but she never thought she would bury them here. A little further away there is a little globe, to my beloved husband with the year of his death, exactly one year after the children. She never told me.

She walked to the truck to which had dust on it, the keys were not in the ignition. She picked one up. Finally having enough she decided to walk surely she would find a neighbors house a deli something where she could call a taxi. She begins walking not even entering the house again to get her sneakers she had brought but deciding to make do with her heeled loafers. She set out in the direction she knew the cab had come from and walked with purpose. After about 1 hour of working in which the road ended abruptly at an unkempt abandoned barn she crossed over to take another road she had spotted on the other side of stream which bordered the property. Here she took off her loafers to cross the stream and continued walking to the stream, where she proceeded on the road which after a few hours had become a dirt road and then a little path, too late to turn back she pushed on. She was hungry and thought about the bread at her sister house. The drawer was just stuck. She was so stupid. After crossing the stream a few more times further up in the path she ends up in front of a river where she sees two little white crosses. This is where it happened. But it couldn’t be, she had walked miles. She sat down crying, she had come full circle. She couldn’t have been more then 5 minutes away from the house. She had to leave the area, the crosses seemed so clean and fresh as if they were just placed to make her crazy and she tried to make her way across the river when she fell and hurt her ankle. Having taken a stick she continued on the path which she knew would lead her back to the house. The door was opened but the top window is lit and she can she can see her sister’s shadow with her two children; she hears her breath leave her body like a balloon deflating and not able to run she collapses where she is.

4:30 a.m

I awoke at 4:30 a.m.

I believe it was the empty feeling of un-fulfilment that pulled me out of my slumber.

I think 4:30 a.m. is not a good time to wake up when I had planned to be up by 7:15 a.m. And I tell this to myself as I shut my eyes attempting to return to my nocturnal activity.

I was not enjoying my dream. I was calculating figures and thinking about my bank account. I squish my eyes shut trying to force them backwards into REM. I feel anxiety seep through my sheets engulfing me as I turn over to ignore it. I reach for another pillow holding it close to protect me and and while trying to squelch these overflowing thoughts I try reasoning with them: "I am in bed, i am trying to sleep, its very late for all this, I have to wake up soon, very early," but inexorably they push on.

I am just too small to stop them. If only we could have a magical spray to spray them away.

Face Fatigue

In Manhattan nobody looks at anyone, in the face or in the eyes. They look toward you but not at you. they have been bombarded by all types of eyes, noses, skin, ears, and lips to last them some time. Their mind can no longer process and their eyes have developed a dull glaze that reverberates all images back out like a pair of reflective glasses. I am not immune to this fatigue. I have it as well. That is why I must go back to LI to see space, air, grass, leaves, trees and nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And nothing can be pleasurable.

Mummy's coming!

Mommy's coming! My mommy is flying in Thursday. And I am so very excited to see her again. I still have much to do. I have my room to clean up, vacuuming, laundry, mowing the lawn and all this before Thursday!!!

I think we will go to the MoMa museum on Friday, then as the weekend should be nice we can walk around the city or go to the botanical garden. I want her to have a great time as she is always working so hard in the Caribbean taking care of the family property and dealing with my fathers "Adam's Family". Even he doesn't want to deal with most of them, but happily lets my mother do it. She is so very patient....Too Patient. I have to teach her the word "NO". Two little letters...yet she has so much difficulty saying them.....

Icicle feet

I keep sneezing, sniffling and my tiny feet were like to icicles this morning at the office.....sitting like this for 8 hours was just out of the question. And yet this always happens, its cloudy making the day cooler and they keep the a/c amped up, which means i am shivering with my jacket on. Well I found my little floor heater and I am now as warm and cuddly as a little rabbit.

I was once told they keep the office cool to keep people awake. However if we are sick and uncomfortable we simply cannot work.

Green

1:00 PM

I am at the office and just beginning to wake up. I notice that my nails are green. Not an even nail-polished-intentional-green as if I am stylish (which I occasionally attempt), but rather spotted smudged green as in "I have a younger child" (which I don't have), or"I am an artist" (which is also not true), or I dumpster dive for stuff (also not true), or I have been removing disintegrating and sticky paint on my binoculars for bird watching (true) which has now attached itself in an unsightly way to my nails. Oh, so much less exciting.

BLUESEAURCHIN: Hurricane

BLUESEAURCHIN: Hurricane

Hurricane

It's the third day of rain and cold and its like August is having an identity crisis. I wonder why I can't have some sort of crisis so I can stay in bed and not run to catch the train, run to catch the subway and hobble my way to work in freezing cold office. The VP here has asked me to modify some faxes, which I do and try to hand it to him with a smile. He does not seem impressed, but I think sullenly how is that my fault? I am soorry the pages don't entertain you, they do even less for me.

Then there was my silly argument yesterday with my silly friend. I am still weighting whether I should be relieved or upset that we are no longer speaking. I think relieved. She is a lot of work and has a very irritating personality when things don't go her way. And they aren't going her way. And they won't go her way any time soon until she gets rid of her Italian-gigolo- boyfriend.

She accused me of being lazy, I accused her of being a gerbil on a tread mill. We took jabs, here and there till she couldn't type strait anymore sprinkling spelling errors as she finally and (i can assume) angrily disconnected her Gtalk.

She can be great, but she can also be a reckless hurricane full of problems that need listening too, appropriate nods and responses, and offered solutions that will be debated against and ignored. Then when things fail, as they tend to do with her, she takes jabs at everything around her. Still I am upset that I let myself get thrown into the hurricane. I should of just let it sweep past me.

I just had to test the wind and stick out my tongue.

;-P

And this was my heart

My friend calls me at work to tell me that she is paying for her boyfriends ticket from Italy.

Oh.....why?

Because he is a pre-med student and we are in love and he is the only one i will ever be in love with and, and, and.

ok. (i can tell by her tone of voice she has already decided. She isn't asking)

Then later, much later.....she calls and says she is paying for everything, taxis, restaurants, drinks, broadway shows. And he is spending a lot. (other people money is always easier to spend) And i have to lend him my suitcase because he doesn't have room for all the stuff he purchased. And i have to bring that suitcase from Manhattan to JFK for him as he is currently in Miami with his friends.

hmmmm.....

and he bought all these presents for his friends in Italy, his friends girlfriends, his family, and clothes for himself. Expensive clothes for himself. And he went to Tiffanys to get me a present but he realized he didn't have enough for anything.

(So he got her nothing. Not a thing, not a flower, not a flower pedal, not even a fake flower.)

What did he get you from Italy?

Nothing.

hmmmm.....

But he tells me he loves me. Amora, Amora, Amora.....

ok. uh, M....he's using you.

No. No. No. You don't understand. I can tell he loves me.

Finally she breaks down and she calls him.

He loves her.

Its settled.

Happily ever after.

Maybe not.

But Perhaps relationship exist to make us struggle so that we can learn to be humble, making us a little less hard, a little more sensitive with others . Perhaps its not all about getting married, but an experience to improve ourselves, provide us with depth. A journey in which we both suffer hardship, enjoy tenderness and acquire wisdom. I think my friend hit a bump.

Hamptons

Went to the Hamptons with some friends. The main street seemed to have been created by some self righteous, elementary school teachers, who lack imagination. Everything was white, even the anal retentive white picket fences and totally void of any creativity, it was street for those that roam the earth but had given up on living.

Grey Building Part II

June paced through her room back and forth with the moonlight illuminating her thin silhouette like a restless ghost. She was cold but not the kind of cold that a sweater would help. Isolated alone and tired she sat on the bed which only made her more aware of Tims absence, it was his pillow, his side of the bed, his books lined against the wall. She wrapped her arms around her body and felt old. She had known Tim since he was a boy. Knew how he was the few to come from a good family and knew that he despised the scratchers for their poverty, the manner they spoke, the way they dressed and for all the same reasons that he now despised her. And as she got up to look at herself in the partially broken mirror its as if she had seen herself for the first time. It was garbage, her haird was dull and poorly cut, her eyes seemed too large as if she was always searching for change, her glow in the dark plastic necklace seem rediculous. she knew she no longer wanted to scratcher, no longer wanted to survive and no longer wanted to impose her image on any other human being.

The groups who had always liked her had sent there youngest members little bowls of soups, sandwhiches, which now lay on the floor untouched. She did not despise them. She felt sorry that they went through such efforts for her and felt sorrier that she would not accept the offerings they had sacrificed to share with her.

Slowly as if an inexorable force was pulling her towards the window she stood there climbing on the sill as delicately as a cat. And she stood there with both feet planted on the sill as if ready to jump. But then as she was looking down at the cold dark street she saw a young girl in the house accross holding the ledge of the building and forgetting that she too was standing on a ledge she gasped and thought what terrible thing to do. She was so suprised she almost fell down but caught herself at the last moment by the old curtain. She jumped back into her room and without throwiing anything over her pink slip she ran down the steps and accross the street. She stood their and both woman staning in their light colored slips, looked at eachother in for a moment in suprise, so that it was as if life had created this mirror of a moment. As if there was no one else left in the world which had suddenly been reduced to this little street and to these two girls. Come down from there I want to talk to you. The other girl started to talk but instead just shook her head. Come down, don't waste time. You can't jump, i have lost everything and I didn't jump. The girl said you don't know what you are talking about. Well come explain, we have all night, then later you can jump if you want. The girl stood their pensively, and cocked her head, what have you lost. I am not having this conversation this come down. Come down, the girl look doubtful but then suddenly disappeared into the dark window to finally make her way down to the street with a sweather wrapped around her.

These two woman sat on an old bench by the river bank and talked all night. Later they stole wine and talked more as the sun came up. It was as if they had survived the dark night and had went through a journey together so it was as if they were linked. The girl knew someone that could write and would take her to see her so that she could have her own book. But the June shook her head head, i dont' have anymore stories you don't understand. And the girl laughed for what seemed hours so that when she wiped her eyes and could finally see her friend again she realized she was angry. Then with a hand on Junes shoulder she said you just told me a story. And June looked in disbelief, she could make it into a story and if you want you have my story. I want only to go home where i have money and a family and you can help me. And everyone in your building has there own story, not what you see everyday, but there story. How they got there, who they are.

The Grey Building - Part I

Part I

We were called to the Scratchers. We were called that because it was said that we would try to scratch out a little money from anything. Everybody had their group, their gang, their family. Tim and June mainly just had each other because they Tim was better at scratching and less good at sharing although he needed June for comfort and storytelling. And June was great at storytelling so that we would all crowd around her late at nights and she would weave her tails. Even Tim was not immune to a good storyteller. We all lived in the same abandoned building but for the most part electricity and plumbing were fine. It was food and clothing, and getting money to do things that was an issue. There was no money for the most part in their area and no jobs unless you knew the right people. But they were the Scratchers and mostly only knew each other and mostly only helped each other.

The grey building consisted of groups of 6 or 7 and they would protect each other, and share information, and money and food. But as I said Tim was fussy and only got along with June. June had this way about her that everyone liked and as i said before she was an awfully fine storyteller. Sometimes if she had a real good one, she would dress in the park and recite for people on a small hill and people would throw money at her.

Anyway June decided one day that she was going to tell our story in Grey building but we all warmed her no one was going to pay for our tale. No one wanted to hear tales of Scratchers, and being hungry, and running around to make some money. We told her to stick to her own stories that she was so good at. But she refused to listen and for 4 weeks she told no stories but would walk about the building in deep concentration. Finally one day she told us all she was going to the hill and we watched her and Tim walk off as we alerted everyone they were going.

She made our grey building into a tower, she poked into our little lives and shed lights here and there so we could see ourselves for the first time. The time little Hat's brother got so hungry and bored he shoved little Hat out of the window and his fall was broken by Linder and how that section was indebted to the other section. Which lead to Linder's trying to use the dept to merge the groups to the biggest group. But that the other groups wouldn't hear of it so that they tried kidnapping members and then and on and on....and we all sat their looking into our lives as if it were in some strange tale. We barely noticed that there was not the usually crowd of well off Katers around our hill but a much larger number then usual. Nobody noticed that Tim was not to be seen, but he was there never the less, we know because of what happened. Well, apparently one of the Katers said this is good enough to sell and so Tim started writing everything down. He was the few amongst us that could write. And later he came around for collection as he usually did to collect money. After that we just didn't see Tim again. But some of us were like that we would drift some and come back.

It was only when it go cold in the winter and we all went back on the hill because June said she was going to re-tell our story and she was hungry that we saw Tim in a fur cape with a young woman with luxurious fire red hair down to her back. We didn't go up to him right away because we thought we were mistaken as he seemed so changed and fancy. It couldn't be Tim because it had to be some Kater that looked like Tim but then it was Tim. And as she sat on her hill with her best dark dress and no coat even though it was cold because she did not own a nice coat, the Katers all came around and said but she is telling the story of that book. The grey building and instead of listening they all talked amongst themselves and paid her no attention so that she lost her place until after much struggling she stopped talking as now one was listening and we were all watching the Katers exclaim they knew the book.

When we finally looked back at June she had turned to stone and was just sitting their as if her soul had left her. And if anyone was close enough at the right moment they would of hear her say very quietly to herself, "so this is what it is to have your very thoughts ripped away from you". And with this after several hours of sitting in the dark some of us took pity on her and forced her back to our building. She moved like a sheep, not following us but allowing herself to be lead.

friend or foe

So this friend, who is not much of a friend, who i sort of got into an argument with during the mini-NY blackout yesterday, ims me as usual. She tells me all of her problems and her solutions and her happiness and i realize suddenly that I don't really care. It's like a cord that has been cut that once linked her to me that seems to be irrevocably beyond repair. This is not about the argument, this is about what she talks about, her attitude, and her ever consuming self absorption. I am not only bored but I am annoyed by her childishly whining ims, overly emotional conversations. I feel bombarded and overwhelmed, almost suffocated. Her personalty now seems brittle, hollow and slightly obnoxious. I now can't help but see her like a void, being nothing, but sucking everything in, and namely my energy and time.

She contacts me this morning. I send her a few well meaning ims in response, but really I know I am just trying to be polite. In a way, I suppose i was a little elated after are argument. I never really thought about how I was enjoying our friendship less, it seems my discontent has grown like an internal symtomless disease only to show its dreadful face upon this situation.

I have just recently stopped stopped making lunch plans with her, not realizing that i no longer enjoyed her company, but just thinking i needed some time to myself. I suppose it won't be much longer. Au revoir.

Rain & Thunder

It's raining rather heavily. First time since a long time. I have a cozy room I rarely use with a bed at level with the window overlooking a garden. I am making my bed just to enjoy this night time show with a good book and fall asleep to the sound and smell of the rain. I could spend my entire night listening to the this!

Black Out

We experienced a mini black out in NY today. It tested my friendship. As I informed my friend from a nearby office and looked for alternative routes to go home and as our office were all anxiously seeking more info from an overburdened subway website that adamantly refused to load for us so we can view it, my friend informed me she didn't care. According to her, her side of Manhattan wasn't effected and it was too bad for the other side. The Eastern side, my office's side, my side. I argued how rude and callous her attitude was, gently at first and perhaps firmer later (as with the case with arguments). But after her stoically stating we would just have to deal with it. I asked her if I could use that line when she came to me with her problems. (as in just this morning...hours of boring and repetitive arguments between her and her lover). We ended the argument with exclamations, and bitter intonations. I told her not to come crying on my shoulder about her endless arguments which inexorable always solved themselves but which left me bored and tired from listening to. She shouted she wouldn't. Not to worry. Then she said Ciao. I was like yup, ciao, for I am not one who feels the need to maintain burndensome companionships that don't provide some level of solace. She will have to do better if she plans to stick around.

Things you should never do drunk

Write blogs,
Write comments in other peoples blogs,
call ex-boyfriends
declare your love to someone (especially to an ex-someone)
show up at work
show up anywhere near a co-worker
perm or color your own hair
get a tatoo
fall asleep on a subway
shop online with your credit card
or shop online with yhour boy friend's credit card
oh I fear my list is too long
please feel free to contact me for the full list should you require it.

Memories

The smell of autumn
Memories of past failures that endlessly swirl around blotting out the future
The far away sound ducks make crossing the winter sky
The way cats carefully evaluate me with their long stares
Reading Harry Potter books under the cover
The soft cushioned sound things make after a snowfall
A silver subway roaring under a grid as I stand above
An English accent
vibrations of thunder
The sensation of a breeze gently moving across my skin
A cross-country train ride in a foreign country
The smell of the sea after a long winter indoors
A turtle letting itself fall into a pond
My moms smile
The sound of a horses gallop
A lover wispering into my ear
A deep fog which shrouds the familiar with magical quality
The kindness of strangers
Building snowmen
Gulping down oysters with a good beer
Swimming in a luminously bright green waterfall after a long difficult hike

Pills and Papers

I just received my pharmacy card from my health plan. So shiny and new. Something in the mail i don't have look over, or pay for. I put it in my wallet. I go back to the paperwork, a booklet, and some paper. I look for coverage. How much of my medication will be covered, when, where, and under what conditions. This is all we really need to know. But no, they have seemingly killed all these trees to write useless information and little pictures to make it seem more user friendly. What else does anyone need to know from a pharmacy card other then coverage and coverage amount?

I don't know why the world demands that i be competent, when the rest of the world is quite clearly not.

Happiness

They say, Money doesn't buy happiness, but if you spend 8 hours of your time at a job you dislike as the majority of people do and some extra time commuting to this job, and some more time getting ready to go to this job, it does seem money could remedy the situation.

Pass me the uh, money please.

Next time

I know the last post was rubbish. I will try harder next time.

;-)

Not Again

I have this friend that thinks i should put myself back on the dating market. I try to tell her, uh, i am not the dating type and now that i have been out it for a while I am even less so. I don't want to dress up and pretend I care what they say or where they work or who their names are and all those things you must remeber when you date. Truth is, I am too tired and don't care about having a relationship anymore. I feel as if fate hasn't sent the correct person to me yet, well it's time to move on and stop dreaming.

Some people are just meant to be solo and i am pretty sure i am one of those people.

Sure there are days when i still hope and dream, but for the most part, I think I have come to terms with the future.

how quickly we regress

It's Friday and we are compactly packed into the first subway car so that once we arrive at our destination which is the same destination we are all destined to, we can file out first and not have to fight are way around a mob of people to get to the elevator from the overly filled platform clearly not designed to accommodate the number it receives daily. We all know the consequences of being in the this car because it is the same every morning. We know we will be pushed, and stepped on, and have to fight for a little spot in which we can hopefully grab on to something so as not to be jostled by the conductors heavy foot. We all know it's a bit unbearable and there are always some remarks, or some one who gives someone a look or someone who is so closely wedged beside you you are certain you know his/her face better then the persons significant other. Yet occasionally we get people who do not know all these things or who refuse" to comply to the first car inconvenience in order to get to work early and avoid the painfully slow moving mob on the extremely narrow platform. For just this Friday, there were these 2 woman who just don't understand these very basic ideas. Instead, they decided this subway condition we were all enduring was cause to fight over.

"you're stepping on my foot"

i said i was sorry

i don't like your attitude and it took you too long to get off my foot

get over it

and on and on this very circular conversation went in a loop as most arguments do

when thinking it would evaporate, i close my eyes to hear yells and everyone is looking at the two woman pushing each other on a subway car that is so compact i can barley turn my body around. They are forced apart by other passengers and one woman is told to get out at the next stop. The man holding the other woman is patting her back. How patient he is i think.

How can this be? That people are so willing to fight and demean themselves like children over a broken toy neither of them wants. Why don't they fight for a better life so they wont have to take the subway. No, they risk broken teeth, black eyes and humiliation over nothing. For their is absolutely nothing to gain. And even if they don't know how to behave in public, they must at least know that everyone had a good laugh at their expense.

Come Closer Please

Come closer please. He says.

I move imperceptibly a bare cm closer.

He smiles slowly. I don't bite.

There are lots of other things you could do.

There are a lot of other things i could do that don't require proximity.

I am mostly concerned about the ones that do.

But think of all you will miss.

And all I can lose...

What if I leave you no choice.

It wouldn't be the same.

You are right, an empty victory it would be.

Surely you can manage just a little bit closer in this obscurity.

You are wrong if you think this obscurity is a comfort.

But we cannot remain like this.

For now, this is all that can be.

Rendez Vous

I tell my friend lets hang out Friday and get a massage at the place in the East Village we always go to. It has several separate message rooms with low walls that finish a about a foot or 2 from the ceiling to provide ventilation. I like these rooms because i can have the seclusion I need but still know my friend is close by sharing the same experiences.

Anyway...she says she thinks she has plans and will let me know. On Friday, she gets back to me about Friday, not that we haven't spoken Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. We have. she asks if we are going out but i have already envisioned taking the express train which only runs early and is refreshingly empty as compared to the other trains and taking a warm shower, eating and retiring to bed early with the book I am defiantly reading. (defiantly because I am not really enjoying it but continuing to read because it has earned recognition so I feel if I wander down the entire path and see it to the end I may better understand and consequently better appreciate it. Not that I don't comprehend the story, I do, but perhaps I will better understand it's finer points. The points that the author intends for his reader to realize and enjoy.

Anyway, as my friend was taking her time to make plans I had already made plans with myself. As strange as this may sound, it happens to be the truth. More so, when i make plans I usually look forward to them, whether they be with man, a woman, or myself, and as I look forward to my future plans, I have of course no desire to change them. There is also the idea of why I might want to cancel plans with myself to be with someone who didn't get back to me until she was certain she didn't have better plans. Right? Besides, if truth be told, even though she is a great person, a neat friend, and plenty of fun to have around, I tend to enjoy my own company more after having worked an entire week with people and having my space encroached upon for such periods of time, thought this too, I cannot tell her.

Crying

No need to cry it will be the same once you are done anyway.

three little Deadly kisses

Three little deadly kisses is what they are. No more, no less. On the lips and not further. A touch of an arm. A touch so light not to distract you but to assure myself of your existence. It's stretching the tips of your toes to the bottom of water in which you wade to assure yourself the earth is still there. But even this is not real. I have no fingers. I become only lips, there is no body, nor 22 floors holding the building underneath us, nor anything above us. No ceiling, no floors, no clouds, no moon, no life, no death. Eternity in an eternal embrace of souls connected only by barely touching lips. Too ethereal to remain, you disappear, and with you all else. I close my eyes, my ears, my touch, I have only this.

Come back

I came back. The door opens and the knob hits the wall making a hollow echo sound of an empty flat. I drop the keys on the little table by the door as i look ahead and they drop to the ground for the table is gone. Here and there are holes which were once filled by things, and moments and warmth but now lie gaping and empty. I call your name expecting but not accepting to hear the silence which answers me. I walk around and think I need something to grab onto something, a story, possibly the truth, because there are too many questions which swim angrily and fearfully in my mind. It is a warm summer day but i feel a cold spread in my stomach like a heavy stone. I turn into the bathroom to find a sellotape letter taped to the wall but what does it mean? I search in vain for an answer, a hint, a foothold. There is no address and the letter is so angrily written I feel the deep imprints of your writing with my fingers as if the answer lies in the touch and not in this scribble. I read it over and over sitting on the bathroom floor but the words bounce off of me like little pellets of ice in a grail storm. I write to you this letter which I have sent to every place we have ever been and every place we had planned to go in hopes that you might hear me. And remember and turn around.

Copy, Paste, Im my friend, Copy, Paste, Im my friend, etc....

Yes, i think my boss is slightly concerned about my lack of work. Or lack of work at my disposal. You see when ever he comes behind my desk to pick up something he printed from his computer, the printer is, conveniently for him, behind my desk and he notices my personal google searches or or me im-ing my friend, M.... He has recently attempted to rectify this problem. He has found work for me to do. We sit in a long meeting concerning how I would update the company brochure importing text from a power point presentation and our company website. He gives me meticulous notes written on the pages of the print out, some on yellow post-its. Insert this paragraph A here, delete page 7 and 8, integrate text from website, etc. A nice, neat, and precise package. It seems fool proof.

I try to nod and scribble notes on my copy of documents along side. I try to suppress my yawn. I try not to put my head down on my desk or close my eyes. I try to make reassuring noise....hmmm, yes, ok like this, at the right moments. He seems pleased, thanks me and the meeting is over. It seems as if everything should move along quickly now. I nod.

We believe by July it should be settled. It's all a matter of copy, paste and maintaining formatting. Problem is, I don't know quark and when i paste parts of the text it disappears off the page and my formatting tool bars are unresponsive to my needs and the Quark books is much too big and boring to learn in so short a segment of time for a one small project.

Uh, excuse me Mr. Supervisor, we have run into a problem.

Putting the Pieces Together

I am trying to put the pieces together. I don't know if i should try to get my bachelors in IT (my English one does't have much zing) or try to become a programmer or buy a new apartment in manhattan or move back to the carribean. BUT I feel something has to change because I have been in this chapter for much too long. And it has become a repetitive loop. Sure I have another job, but it's another job which I don't like same as my last job. But i had left that job thinking this was the all important change that was going to change everything. I had even changed my sector. But yet here I am again at exactly the same place almost a year later and so out of indecision I am running around in a loop. And I am becoming despondent and sulky. I go to work because i have too, i buy clothes because i have to, i eat because i have to, and sleep because i have to and round and round it plays.

I have to make a change.

Inevitable Actions - Acknowledging Gravity

She calls me as soon as I sit down at work. "i need some good advice"

"well i can give you advice, but good advice might cost you."

She has travel vouchers offered at about 1/5 of their commercial value. The person is getting rid of them because he can't use them. Now they are sitting enticingly on Craig's List - Buy me.

what do you know about the seller...oh I have everything, his phone number, a copy of a green card, school transcript from MIT.

uhhhh...you have a copy of a green card and a copy of someones transcript. That doesn't mean they are real and that doesn't they are even his. He doesn't even want to use PayPal but Greenpoint in which you buy money vouchers and can't refute charges like you would be able to do on a credit card if here were to use Paypal.

ok but i talked to him and we exchanged emails and i know he is legitimate.

How do you know this?

I can tell.

how?

He wrote me back.

Well he would, wouldn't he. He still doesn't have your money. And all the documents he provided, he provided without your requesting...so it only means he has access to some fake id or or possibly stolen ID. If you are really going to do this anyway, at least ask him to send an email from work stating what he will send you in detail prior to you sending any money. At least you have the domain of a company.

Some time later she calls back to tell me he refused claiming his work privacy is an issue and tells her to search for deals on eBay in which she can feel safer...

she takes this as proof of his sincerity and honesty.

She sends him the money.

She calls me again.

I've been scammed.

What can i do? (........she's asking for more advice)

Nothing, put it down to learning a lesson and move on.

I can't move, on I lost 350 amount of money. And this is not just about the money.

No, it was a worth while lesson. it wasn't a loss of money.

I can't let this go.

Do you really think you are going to catch him, this is how he makes his living...he knows all the tricks and you will just end up more frustrated at having wasted more time and energy on it.

(We argue back and forth for much longer then i care to bore you or admit to myself)

Ultimate result of argument: she decided she is going to look for him and teach him a lesson.

But all this time was not wasted, I am becoming aware of the fact that when most
people ask for advice, what they really are asking for is confirmation that what they really want and plan to do, is the best and possibly only correct course of action.

PARIS STAR

This story in no way represents anything pertaining to reality, unless you see similarities, but even then, I refute all responsibility as all good bureaucrats do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It would seem to me in the cases of many organizations, the idea of bureaucracy was created both to protect employees from doing any work as well as to provide the illusion of work by creating a cover for departments to constantly shift responsibility by volleying the work to different departments. To be short, it is the art of avoiding work in the most elegant and plausible manner.

It was due to this strategy that we the colony ship were experiencing a sense of growing abandonment, creating a sometimes complacent relationship among its members and ultimately a growing feeling of betrayal, anger and madness. Yes, madness, what else could it be called?

The captain severely encumbered by his inability to attain anything from headquarters, was experienced limited options. So that most of the communications to Headquarters, Paris Star went as such:

To PARIS STAR:
Shipping packages never received. Contacted shippers who deny responsibility. Please look into matter and report back.

PARIS STAR:
Message Copied 002161.

No one reports back.

To PARIS STAR:
Require Assistance into looking into shipping containers. Please report back.

PARIS STAR:
Message Copied 001222.

No one reports back.

To PARIS STAR:
Request permission to run diagnostics. Need master password. Please reply.

PARIS STAR:
Message copied 001865. Message sent to technical support.

No one reports back.

To PARIS STAR::
2nd Request permission to run diagnostics. Need master password. Please reply.

PARIS STAR:
Automated Message copy 001866.

No one reports back.

To PARIS STAR:
3rd Request permission to run diagnostics. Need master password. Please reply.

PARIS STAR:
Automated Message copy 002111. Technical Support: Request for full diagnostic run denied. Suggestion to reboot.

To PARIS STAR:
4th Request permission to run diagnostics. Need master password. Reboot process attempted as specified by protocol TS152 and failed. Please reply.

PARIS STAR:
Automated Message copy 002838.

No one reports back.

To PARIS STAR:
5th Urgent: work will be drastically reduced following no reply from the below request. Request permission to run diagnostics. Need master password. Reboot process attempted as specified by protocol TS152 and failed. Please reply.

PARIS STAR:
Automated Message copy 002899.

No one reports back.

As TH1 floated around the periphery of Paris Star but still far from the mother ship, alone and forgotten it’s crew members learn to request and rely less upon Paris Star. Captain Tao becomes increasingly prone to fits of sullenness and has developed the habit of creating projects which has no other objective then to discourage his team from approaching his office and soliciting his help or sharing their frustration with him. He also has adopted the peculiar habit of pulling imaginary lint from his shirt and punctuation his sentences with “and there it is. Hmph.”

He occasionally organizes meetings that speak of “adjusting to limited access allotted to them by Paris Star while simultaneously encouraging them to maintain rules and protocol” which he knows are impossible as all protocol refers back to Paris Star who is increasingly unresponsive. He himself adjusts to this situation by taking a page out of Paris Star’s strategy by becoming ever more complacent to his lack of work and copies their example of avoiding responsibility towards his team.

They struggle for a small while, learning to ask Captain Tao for less help as a feeling of frustration grows among them like a dark hidden disease under the layers of apparently healthy eyes, nose, mouth, heart. There network deteriorating, they work less frequently, until almost no work is done at all.They expect the Captain to journey over to the Main Office on their behalf as the responsible person for their office. It is all they speak of in hushed voices in the long corridors and the corners of their halls.

Tao, aware of his responsibility and his team expectations that he should confront the Main Office during an annual meeting refuses to push the issue too strongly and hopes that by not forcing managements hand, and not disrupting the beehive, as he likens them, he will in fact win himself an increase in salary, a promotion, points for not being disruptive. Likewise, if he is blamed for his team falling under expectations, he can always plead innocent and state that that they never had the necessary support of the Main Office which was required in maintaining schedule. He will play the victim and came out the stronger for it. Either way he assures himself it is win, win. He returns to his office preparing himself for continued hibernation as he refers to it.

As Captain Tao returns to Paris Star, and no change is implemented hope vanishes. His team bicker among themselves. They fight for status and power and money in this vacuum of management and work. In order to avoid multiple disruptions and growing conflicts from his staff he quickly picks favorites as to thwart people from contacting him for fairness, credit for work, and other privileges others may fight to usurp. He also appoints these favorites as gatekeepers who others are encouraged to approach instead of contacting him directly. His favorites, for the most part avoid disrupting him for fear of falling out of favor and his less fortunate employees avoid him for fear of additional work, falling further out of favor and knowing they will never attain help from him. For the most part, visits to his office and direct interface communications are drastically reduced and then, not much later, non-existent. His direct communication line becomes inaccessible. No one wonders if this is due to his own choice, new company policy, or a breakdown. There is of course no one to ask anyhow. The less favored employees avoid all contact with the favored employees, as it is probable that they do not know much more but will invent false info in order to demonstrate favored status.

Hostile aggression becomes passive aggressive, quiet attacks buried under bureaucratic madness until the day someone find the Captains door ajar and sees that his head has been removed and put in the trash seemingly months ago. sending out useless memos in his place, while quietly leaving his decaying headless body sitting in his chair.

Who has usurped the power? Or perhaps the vacuum of power?

To PARIS STAR:
Urgent, Captain Tao believe to be murdered. Colony Office members TH1 fear for their lives. Request code for immediate return to PARIS STAR.

PARIS STAR:
Message Rejected by computer process PR4481. Protocol forbids non-management from contacting management; refer back to protocol manual for full details.

Silence……

Mouse fable

Mr. Mouse was quite lost. He needed to go home but it seemed the more he searched, the more lost he became.

Frustrated he asked one of the forest animals for help and they said why not ask the Cat for he knows the forest through and through. Mouse knew this was true, but cat also had a habit of eating mice, but yet, he had to get home. Could he trust Cat? So Mouse went to see Owl and asked what he thought of his plan. Owl hooted plaintively, "you must choose your friends wisely not all who offer help have your best interest at heart. Cat likes to eat and although the winter hasn't started yet and there is plenty of food, what makes you think he won't be hungry after so long a journey." Mouse replied "but I must go home. I must be home by winter or surely I will die." Owl hooted, "let me bring you home. But mouse was not convinced as he knew Owl too liked to eat mice and so he says and why wouldn't you eat me?" Owl says "because you are my friend". "Cat says he is my friend as well." Owl hooted, "but I have wings and can carry you home. "

Very frustrated at his lack of options mouse sits by the lake and cries. Rabbit comes up and asks him why his is making more water for the lake. Mouse explains "I must rely on those that want to eat me to take me home, but if I don't accept their help I will die from the winter so far from home because i am a mouse." "What does a mouse have to do with you dieing." "Well because I don't have wings, to see the entire forest, or long legs that will take me over stretches of land in a short time, I don't even have claws to defend myself." "And now I must die." "Well says Rabbit if you are decided then just do it quickly and stop sobbing." "Mouse moans but don't you see I don't want to die." "Well then you can use your strengths to help you out of your situation." "Strengths?..." he utters "But i have none. Do you not listen?" "Rabbit sighs patiently everyone has something, take that poor rock over their, it's no rock its turtle and his shell hides and protects him." "Then what do I have?" "I can't tell you what you have" says rabbit exasperated. "You must know what you have. You are a silly mouse" and with that rabbit hops off.

Later Mouse comes back to Owl and says "I accept your help to bring me home. How about tomorrow?" Owl accepts and the next day they meet. Owl holds little mouse in his claws and off they go till mouse sees his village and instructs owl to go down, but owl doesn't go down . Mouse cries pitifully. "Please let me see my village one last time if you are to eat me. Render me this promise you have made."

So Owl lowers down to the village when without warning cat jumps on his back. Mouse leaps away and says "I have no claws, beak or wings to defend me but I am cunning. I asked Cat to follow us and promised in return he would have something bigger to eat then myself." And off mouse ran into the night as both Cat and Owl sat mesmerized on how such a small mouse had fooled them and how quickly his tiny shape could disappear under the shadow of the evening.

Terribly Incompetent Employment Agency

There is this terribly incompetent employment agency (who had interviewed me at least 4 times and had tested me on computer skills for at at least 3 hours) and then later, much after having ignored me for 3 weeks, had called me concerning a job that i had already refused twice. Did they believe three times was lucky?

First the job opportunity was offered as a "temp", then it was presented to me again as a "temp to perm" and now recently it was re- re- presented to be as a "permanent and great job". What were they basing this phenomenal job rating on I am still unsure. In any case I thanked them as best as i could between clenched teeth and and told them that i had recently gained employment but that it was so nice that they thought of me yet once again. The agent seemed upset with me but seemed to be working hard not to show it, offered her congratulations with such a fake smile i could hear her foundation makeup crack under the phenomenal effort as she asked if my file should be removed from the active list. "Yes, please."

But no, no, nothing with these people can be that easy, for I received yet another call from the same agency. This time they had a "really great opportunity" for me. Wow, really? And they described what my unsavory task at said job would be without even coming up for air. You see the list was long. Apparently cloning would be essential. Oh and of course the boss was demanding. Translation: not someone you would want to work for and which in all likelihood would require that the average healthy person would need to go into therapy after a few months.

Finally after reciting this long list with apparently no commas, or periods, she asks if i would be interested in interviewing. I felt embarrassed to state the obvious that if I were to interview for this job it would have to be better then the job I was presently employed at. But apparently it was necessary as she didn't mention any reason why i would want to have this job which would be directly tied under the headings "income", "vacation", "health care" other "possible perks...."

There was a pause as if she is unsure what I am inquiring about.

Upset now at having to state the obvious in more detail and having to talk with this agency that I had already lost so much time previously with, I make a tremendous efforts to remain calm. "Yes, compensation." Why would I need to ask what the compensation is, does she think I work for pleasure and drop these checks in some paper recycling box on my way home? Isn't this the same compensation that she is expecting should the person hire me? Isn't this the same compensation that has instigated her to call me? She can't think I am desperate, I already have a job, wasn't that clear?

There is a pause and her voice sounds frustrated as she mutters "oh its about x to x amount depending on experience".

I tell her I am making approximately that amount where I am. How about vacation? She seems a little angry now....why? Is this not her job being the go between employer and potential employee? Shouldn't she know this information before calling especially as I am employed and it is difficult for me to make these type of phone calls about another job in my office?

She pauses again and lets me know with much irritation that she will need to contact the employer for that information. And now a longer pause. IS this a PAUSE in which she hopes I will say "no that's ok I will interview for this position regardless of pay and vacation?"

Instead I say "that's sounds good and can you please leave the information on my voice mail so that "we" (really meaning "I") don't have to play phone tag and I can make my decision as soon as possible. (doesn't logic stipulate that these aren't calls I want to be making in front of my colleagues or boss at my new job?) But so far logic hasn't played a very big part with my interaction with said employment agency.

She does call back the next day. "Hello this is L...., I have the information you needed please call me back."

I don't.

Ants

I am being quietly invaded by carpenter ants. It is war. They come out when they feel it is safe, when i am typing at my computer and they do not see much movement...they think i am busy and then they make a run for this corner or that corner and I have to grab what ever is near by, hopefully a napkin or something appropriate and smush it. At first I was squeamish gently pressing them with much disgust and a turned face but apparently their bodies are surprisingly resistance to this pressure or perhaps the amount of paper used cushions them....but as with all distasteful experience repetition makes us more resilient and perhaps crueler and I now press harder and look directly at the offending perpetrator.

And now because it is hot outside they are suddenly coming out in record number. I am not sure if they have some form of communication but they seem warier and quicker. It feels like like some sort of bad LSD experience and I jump at every black spot on the ground, or wist of hair which touches my neck.

I am going to buy poison.

This is war.

Poor Little Blog

Blogging is tougher then it looks. My poor little blog keeps slipping into oblivion and can't be found using Google and the few times in it which it can be found under Google....it is usually so far down on the page or pages no one will see it. Just as bad, is when it does appear occasionally with apparent reluctance, it doesn't show may latest post but some old post from another era as if I am not a conscientious blogger but some couch potatoe who is too lazy to pop open their laptop and feed it. This is a very unfair portrayal of my situation as i do care and i do try to blog at least once a week and am pretty successful in my attempts at frequency.

If any one can see me and is reading this please help. Any suggested advice or website concerning this issue would by very appreciated and will be followed up with visits and comments of your blog should you have one!

A Small Doodle Really

I have only been at my job for a month when i think I have already made a little error, which I am sure they will believe is a lot bigger then just little, but as it is their company, they of course have the final judgement call, so I suppose we can just call the error a big error. I was putting together a boardroom booklet with minutes and it was the first time i saw such ridiculously mindless documents. Which all began to look the same but which never the less had to be placed in a precise order. This seemed fine and all except I do not what basis they use to decide the sequence of the order. So when my manager with very limited time sat down with me and shuffled the pages until he found this order which he understood but did not share the logic of with I. I thought it was very clever of me to number said pages with a #2 yellow pencil as these documents were still being worked on and the fear was that they could unintentionally become disordered again. Mind you I had an eraser handy at my desk I planned to use on them before sending them out.

It was quite a shock to me when I was binding these documents and noticed my little number marks on the ends of these very official but terribly boring documents like a child's disobedient scribble on a perfectly pristine wall. Increasing my misfortune was the fact that though they were written in such a light pencil marks as to be barley noticeable, they were were now made much darker by our evil and terribly disloyal copier machine. Of course this was only noticed by myself when I was putting together the last book and my manger was waiting with an outstretched hand to gather the booklets to make his London flight.

I don't touch my pencils at my desk they stare at me guiltily.

Moth

Moth liked to fly at night. It’s cool out at night and there is no bright sun to burn his eyes and singe his wings. This was until he came upon a candle light and so fond of the little light which wasn’t as bold and brash as the sun he inched over to explore.

The other moths warned…noooo….everyone who goes there dies in the flame… so Moth flew off but watched the flickering light from afar in the dark.

Drawn to it he moves closer and flies around and feels it’s comforting warmth, each times inching closer until ouch to close, it’s true what they say it does burn he thinks. But so nice is the swaying light and the warmth that a little closer could be ok. Yes quite nice Moth thinks. So nice and white it makes me glow.

Mesmerized he can no longer leave the light but swims back and forth closer each time till his emotions get the better of him and he dashes madly off in the center because he can no longer bear to be any further.

Caught!

Because I speak French I can eavesdrop on them, which is easy to do because they believe they are the only ones in the area to understand the language and so they speak freely, intimately, and without reserve. It was because of this that I once shared an elevator with a a young couple who were discussing how they could cheat on their taxes. Surprised, I turn around to get a closer look at them but my face must of seemed too alert for the casual glance i had thought I was mastering, their eyes widened in response like scared owls and they whispered for the remaining floors.

Ladybug

I came out of my air conditioned tower of lifeless air, lifeless thought, lifeless work. The ice resides in my bones and it take minutes for the sun to seep in. I sat down on the warm steps and watch hoards of people move through the tight sidewalks. After having finished my lunch hour i put my bag to my shoulder and collect my jacket to notice a small lady bug vanishing up one of the sleeves. "oh no my friend, where I go you will not survive" and i gently remove her by allowing her to climb up my finger and place her on the leaf of a near by plant. Freedom awaits at least one of us.

Undesirable Bubble Effect

I took the subway, which was packed, which is ok, because it was peak, and peak is always packed but then came in this trashy girl with a huge flower tattoo sitting above her but (which we all had a nice view of due to her extremely low cut jean), super oiled up hair, fleshy protruding stomach, person, who casually leans against the holding pole while dropping a dirty tissue.

No one can now hold the pole, nor do they seem inclined to tell her that no one can hold the poll if she leans against it, so instead they stretch their hands up above her oil ridden hair. There is bubble around her from people avoiding her as much as possible even though every square inch of the car is densely packed.

She is a living billboard screaming: I have no respect for myself, have every STD known to man kind and I am familiar with jail and prostitution. We are all thinking the same thing as we are jostled to and fro from the many stops and starts of the subway while cautiously maintaining the bubble. When is she getting off?

When off she goes... and in enters a fresh set of people who go for the area on the pole that we still refuse to touch when a girl says "ew, that's oily".

I mentally make a note to avoid places on the subway that seem strangely vacant when a car is so packed. It's the undesirable bubble effect.

Hope

A friend sent me this story which I believe embodies hope and it's importance. Strangely, during the times when we need it most it is usually the most difficult to maintain. I share this story which I hope replenishs or adds to your source.
------------------------

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well.

The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do.

Finally he decided the animal was old and the well needed to be covered up anyway, so it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They each grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well.


At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement, he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well and was astonished at what he saw.

With every shovel full of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up. As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up.

Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and trotted off!

Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt.

The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a stepping stone.

We can get out of the deepest wells by not stopping, never giving up! Shake the dirt off and take a step up!

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:
1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.

Rain

It’s raining very hard, beating everything down with a fervor and a fanciful frenzy. Sometimes strait, sometimes tilting firmly to the left as if aiming for some spot it suspects it may have missed in its strait downward path. It paints the day sky into evening offering dark puddles to reflect upon in the shapes of sudden bonsai lakes appearing here and there like random thoughts. The birds fly in strange leaps to make up for the winds unpredictable gust rushing back and forth towards the bird feeder…and as their is no need to be fearful of cats in the undergrowth they spread themselves on the grass not minding the rain but picking here and there at the moist soil. The weather eases my restless conscious that I should be running about on errands or enjoying my weekend in a more active style instead of hiding behind a book under the cover reading next to the warm radiator. This rain suits me and the birds just find.

Employed Again

My short lived stint of self-employment as a translator has now officially ended. I am now "gainfully employed" (cheers in the background - "Go Girl, Go Girl")

After many disturbing and disastrous interviews and poor offers, I have finally made my way into the industry that I had been looking to enter which is finance - check.

I have the ballpark salary I was aiming for - check.

The position is promising - check.

The position offers growth and the company is growing - check.

The people seem nice and down to earth - check.

It's as if all my checklist have been covered and all my wishes have been granted so now why do i feel so wistful? Why this lingering doubt? The grey cloud?

As much as this period of interview and endless searching felt demoralizing it also had a flavor of hope that all my efforts towards employment were refused or deemed unworthy by me so that i could maintain my course of self employment to eventually become a full time writer. I could end up writing the next Harriet Potter book and move to London where my writing would be aided by the cities rainy weather and a warm fireplace in a cosy flat. Not an apartment, a flat, like the British have and in my closets there would be many beautiful long raincoats which I would swirl around the city and sit in warm cafe in watching the rain. With this occupation I would travel to see my family as often as i feel like. I would take long trips by train and work on the move glancing at the countryside flying by my window while tapping away at my laptop.

Instead, on Monday morning at 7:00 AM I will be waiting on the platform for the LIRR to take me Manhattan in corporate attire where upon arrival at Penn station, I will board the bleak looking E line to my stop at Lexington. In this area I will walk to my office and work from 9 to 5.

Still, I have a laptop and my ambition, and with these as the British say I will "press on".

Three Little things I Can't Live Without

My little (completely) white Averatec laptop on which I email, blog, search the weather, search the news, surf, buy things I don’t really need but really want, listen to my music with, play movies on, write zany stories on which I show no one, translate my work with, created reports on, infuriate my ex-boss with, horrified my computer-savy tech warrior sister with (feels it is technologically inadequate and is terrified anyone wood purchase a computer based on color and design –sorry Jen), skype my family in st.barth with, use to teach my mom excel, word, google and computer basics with (and to both of our astonishment has managed to survive). ;-P

Burt’s bees (Rhubarb) Lip Shimmer packed in a totally recyclable sensible package. It not only looks naturally great on me, it tastes yummy and is only made of natural ingredients, keeping my lips healthy and kissable, makes them tingle as well as the lips of everyone else I smooch encouraging them think I am a phenomenal kisser because of all it’s zing and slick feel.

Green Tea (loose leaves) which I put into an electric coffee maker. Not only do I love the taste and it’s spring-like color but it warms me and comforts me on cold winter mornings, and the caffeine gives me a kick I can’t get with coffee as I am allergic. It soothes me cold walks, bad fights, uncomfortable confrontations, cranky moods, minor failures (I don’t have major ones I write them off as life lessons) and tastes great no matter what time of the day.

Happy Easter

My Path

I am experiencing a pissy blogger moment. I just spent over 2 hours trying to find out how to add links and then slowly it dawned on me that the lack of information concerning this seemingly complicated process is probably due to the fact that the new templates have user friendly link option. And guess what, after spending all that time and aggravation trying to simulate computer code in order to add a link i found my efforts were not necessary at all. In fact they were an easy option in the new templates. Just a few clicks!

This only makes me worry what other time I am seemly wasting doing things the long complicated way when there is a simple shortcut staring me in the face. This fear is the reason why i am procrastinating investing all my mind attaining "full time employment". I believe there must a more fulfilling, promising and lucrative options. But where does that path lie? How many mountains must I climb before I find my way?