Year End Review

1. Was 2006 a good year for you?
Yes. New job, not having to work the holidays. Holidays with family.

2. What was your favorite moment(s) of the year?

Christmas with my mother and sister.

3. What was your least favorite moment(s) of the year?

Having to tell my new boss, the one who insisted on hiring me, that he was in danger of losing his job.

4. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?

Aside from the afore mentioned conversation with my boss --- I never actually flirted with a straight boy, until yesterday.

5. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I guess I did. I got a new job.

6. Where were you when 2006 began?

Probably asleep because I had to work on New Year's Day.

7. Who were you with?

Yeah, right.

8. Where will you be when 2006 ends?

I will probably be sitting on a sofa watching a movie.

9. Who will you be with when 2006 ends?

I'll be with my friends J&A.

10. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Sadly, we're not very close but one of the few people I have immense respect for had his second daughter. I need to send congratulations.

11. Did you lose anybody close to you in 2006?

No. I've had them all installed with Lojacks.

12. Who did you miss?

I've given up missing people. There are people who seem to drift in and out of my life, but I've spent to much time pining after people. If I want to talk to someone, I pick up the phone or dash off an e-mail.

13. Who was the best new person you met in 2006?

I have to say that the person I like the most is K. The person who inspires me the most is C. And the person I respect the most is the CEO at my new job.

14. What was your favorite month of 2006?

I'd have to say July because the first week of that month was my first paid vacation in more than three years!

15. Did you travel outside of the US in 2006?

No, but if all goes as planned there will be a different answer in 2007.

16. How many different states did you travel to in 2006?

Just one. Arizona.

17. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?

Lost weight. Between work, school, and the chorus, I just can't find the time to get to the gym. That has changed in the last two weeks. I also need to pay more attention to what I eat. More vegetation, and (sadly) less cheese.

18. What date from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

February 9 is the only date that comes to mind. That's the day I started my new job.

19. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Getting an A- from a professor who I thought I despised.

20. What was your biggest failure?

I don’t believe in failure.

21. Did you suffer illness or injury?

No. I'm disgustingly healthy.

22. What was the best thing you bought?

The train ticket for my mother to travel to my sister's house for Christmas. The two of them had not seen each other in fifteen years.

23. Whose behavior merited celebration?

I can't think of anyone...

24. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

George W. Bush.

25. Where did most of your money go?

I think to White Hen, where I've been buying most of my lunches for the past year.

26. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

I don't get really, really, really excited about anything any more.

27. Did you drink a lot of alcohol in 2006?

Probably not enough. I had a doctor tell me once that I needed to start drinking.

28. Did you do a lot of drugs in 2006?

I don't do drugs. It's an event if I take an aspirin.

29. Did you treat somebody badly in 2006?

Not exactly. There is a woman in my office who I don't particularly like. After a meeting she cornered me in my office and confronted me. She asked if she'd done anything to offend me and I said, "No." That answer offended her and she demanded more, so I turned the tables around on her and asked her why she was so confrontational. I don't like it when somebody realizes that I don't like them.

30. Did somebody treat you badly in 2006?

Oddly, there were moments when the CEO could have been more kind, but I now see that he was testing his management team to see how much stress they could take. I think I passed.

31. Compared to this time last year, are you:

Compared to this time last year, I'm more gainfully employed and as a result I'm enjoying life more.

32. What do you wish you'd done more of in 2006?

Developed new friendships.

33. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Watched television. In college, a friend described television as the great time thief. He was right.

34. Did you fall in love in 2006?

Really, truly, madly, deeply in love? No. But every three or four weeks I develop a new crush.

And then, of course, there is RP.

35. What was your favorite TV program(s)?

I vowed not to get sucked into a new show, but (in no particular order) the top three were Dancing with the Stars, Project Runway, and Dexter.

36. What song will always remind you of 2006?

"Evening Prayer” from Englebert Humperdink's opera Hansel and Gretl.

37. How many concerts did you see in 2006?

None. However, I performed in three.

38. Did you have a favorite concert in 2006?

I'd have to say the Christmas concert for CGMC.

39. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Il Divo.

40. What was the best book you read?

Actually, I enjoyed Anna Karenina. I don't have enough time to read for pleasure.

41. What was your favorite film of this year?

Hands down, Little Miss Sunshine. It was like a modern morality play.

42. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

My birthday falls smack dab in the middle of the holidays. I slept. I turned Old.

43. What did you want and get?

I didn't want anything in particular. I wanted to be happy and I think I got a lot closer to that.

44. What did you want and not get?

There was this pair of boots on e-Bay...

45. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Falling really, truly, madly, deeply in love.

46. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006?

Finding sleeves that are long enough.

47. What kept you sane?

When I get there, I'll let you know.

48. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I'll have to cast my vote for the most unoriginal of answers and go with Jake Gyllenhaal; although I have to say that the bloom is coming off the rose as he loses weight.

49. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006.

Winners never quit and quitters never win.

50. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

All by myself...
Don't want to be
All by myself
Anymore...

When Reality and Fantasy Collide

Sometimes when I'm bored I go out to Match.com and do some window shopping. There you find personal ads from men, all of whom describe themselves as some new, innovative shade of Prince Charming. Most of the ads demonstrate either the shocking similarity of the individuals of the human race, or its depressing banality. Originality is, apparently, not something that is prized on Match.com. Everybody is "not into the scene," and "normal." (As a little side note, I'm eternally entertained by the men who are too old to date themselves. They request that respondents not exceed a certain age, usually justifying it with their "untamed zest for life." Yes. I'm a twenty-three-year-old, muscle-bound fitness model and I'm just dying to date a forty-five-year-old, balding dentist. It could happen.)

Then one day just before the holidays I was stopped dead in my tracks. RP-- MY RP -- has a persoal ad posted on Match.com!

For those who have not followed this blog religiously, RP stands for "Real Prototype." That means that I have the ideal boyfriend all mapped out in my head, perfection on toast. From time to time I appropriate certain people to sort of symbolize this dream. At different times I've used Ben Affleck, Brendan Fraser, etc. But for the last two years, the role of RP has been played by someone who actually inhabits my real life. By that I mean he is a person whom I could actually speak to, actually pick up the phone and have a discussion with, and probably not be arrested as a stalker. The reality is that I've never said more than a dozen words to him. And if we do have any sort of conversation it's awkward, trading jokey insults. Just thinking about him makes me feel like a twelve-year-old girl, so being within earshot almost makes me a drooling idiot. But, to put a finer point on reality, he probably doesn't even really realize I exist beyond this adolescent patter. And it's all fine. I've appropriated him (without his knowledge) to play the starring role in my little romantic fantasy in my head. I know it's all silliness.

Still, that didn't mean my heart didn't flutter when I saw his picture posted for the world to see, advertising for a new boyfriend! Part of Match.com is a profile that the website uses to match people. Since it was free, I immediately filled it out to see how RP and I match.

We don't, really.

He doesn't read.

Anything.

Ever.

And he sites Carrie Bradshaw as his romance guru. Now, I like Sex and the City as much as the next gay, but I would hardly use that sitcom as my relationship touchstone. RP is nice enough, but he's just as shallow in real life as the persona I've created in my head. How is that possible?

I can't say I'm heart broken. And I don't even know if anything has to change. He can still be RP to me. But now I know for an absolute certainty there can be nothing real between us. Not like when RP was played by Ben Affleck.

We Interrupt This Program...

Just when I was convinced that no one really read this blog, today I received a comment to one of my posts. Frustratingly, the commentator did not give me enough clues to identify him/her. The single clue about the Bible narrows the potential list to approximately forty people -- and that's only if I'm interpreting the clue properly.

My senior year in high school, I fell during P.E. class basketball game, shattering my right arm. The break required a week's hospital stay and two corrective surgeries. Because I had been so deeply crushed when I didn't get the lead in the fall musical earlier that year, my high school drama coach chose a play specifically for me in the spring, Inherit the Wind. She called me while I was in the hospital and told me that I didn't even have to audition, but to let her know if I was going to do the show or not because she'd choose something else if I didn't. Even though it was an old-man part, it was a lead and in my vanity I snapped at it.

(As a side note, that was my last old-man role. In college I was cast in more age-appropriate roles, and then when I began acting professionally I was cast as children well into my thirties. I even played my fair share of romantic, leading roles. Still vain after all these years.)

Anyway, here's the part of the comment that really took the wind out of my sails:

"...That's why I'd like to make amends with you. I was a horrible person to you through high school. Part ignorance, part jealousy, and part competetiveness...and all centered on my low self-esteem. I dragged others down because I felt down.I certainly would not expect you to accept my apology, but I am offering it nonetheless. Without putting my name out there for all to see, let me just tell you that the names John Sether and Gibby mean as much to me as they do to you. And that I sometimes still find myself standing on stage balancing a book in each hand under a banner that says 'Read Your Bible.'"

If I remember correctly, there was a banner on stage of that production that read, "Read Your Bible." If I was really interested, I would dig up the year book to see.

The truth is I'm not. The comment takes me aback simply because for a split second I'm that awkward kid again, desperately wanting to be the romantic lead and having to settle for playing old men. I was an odd kid in high school, with an odd family situation, trying to grapple with all of that, while working out the gay demons. I had a circle of friends, but they weren't what you might call trust worthy. They were the people that I felt the least uncomfortable with. I did what I could to fit in and prayed that graduation would come so that I could move on with my life and put all of that behind me. Now, looking back at that time I recognize that it played a big part in who I became, both positively and negatively. My years in high school defined the world for me. It was tough, but I'm probably the better person for it.

But that description of high school could fit anyone. Hell, it probably fits everyone.

Because of the quirky little details, I'm choosing to accept the comment as legitimate. Recently I read another blog where the blogger received a similar comment. It's just possible that we were both the random recipients of someone's attempt to make himself feel better about how he treated someone else in his high school. Or maybe we're the victims of yet another high school-related joke.

So, as a little side comment to my personal commentator...Without really knowing who you are, consider your apology accepted. I'm no longer defined by my high school experience and don't look to those people anymore to validate me. I appreciate your well wishes and return them.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming...

When Bad People Happen to Good Companies

I think I can officially say it. I think I hate my boss, the COO. The final straw has been his million-dollar miscalculation in preparing next year's budget. His figures are being audited now, but if they turn out to be correct approximately ten percent of our employees stand to lose their jobs. There is an emergency meeting scheduled for January 3, and he had the NERVE to ask that it be rescheduled for the eighth so that his vacation would not be interrupted. Of course, he does not stand to be one of the people who will lose his job -- in fact, I might lose mine in his place. I'm not too worried about that. The CEO, for all the abuse he's heaped on me, just gave me a promotion and a raise. If I lose my job, he will help me find another.

What is just frosting my glass is the fact that my boss has all these unreasonable perks. He comes in at 9:30. Four days out of five, he's out of the office by 4:30. He produces absolutely nothing, and when a project is assigned to him, he passes it off to me. But, if I initiate something, he tells me to stop and let him do his job. Only to pass what I started off to someone else.

Today I took a look at the budget and suggested to the CFO that such executive perks as car allowances (no one drives for their job) and country club fees be cut from the budget before we fire someone. I got a note back saying such things were likely to stay in the budget, but she did agree to crunch some numbers to determine how much money we are actually talking about. Just from what I know, we're easily talking about well over $100,000.

If I was smart, I'd update my resume and start sending it out. But I'm going to see this one out to the bitter end. I will either walk away from this job financially comfortable, or I will lose it because other people are lazy, stupid, self-involved, selfish slobs.

Another Political Rant

The time has come for another political rant. I've been uncharacteristically quiet on the subject, especially in light of the November elections. Truth be told, I've been too busy with work, school, and chorus to breathe. I've simply had to trust that the universe would carry on without me.

But now, the proverbial straw has snapped the camel's back, and I feel it is absolutely my duty as a good citizen of the universe to speak out.

What's up with little LiLo?

On the surface, that might appear to be a frivolous question, but I really mean it. Miss Lohan and her cadre of "friends" are disturbing to a level that defies understanding. Generations past, when the nation was in crisis, did their part. Even entertainers took up the American cause and at the very least appeared to care about the other inhabitants in the world.

Lest anyone forget, we are at war. It is a war in which tens of thousands of people have been injured, maimed and killed. In World War II movie stars sold war bonds, did USO tours, and even rolled bandages. During the Vietnam conflict celebrities (there were no more movie stars) became vocal and active. No matter your opinion of Jane Fonda and her sexy splits on a contemporary weapon of mass destruction, at least she was participating as a conscientious citizen.

What is wrong with us that we tolerate, let alone salivate over Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, Britney Spears, and their assorted boy toys. How can we as a society allow, let alone advertise the chemically enhanced shenanigans of these soulless publicity whores? Why hasn't a rabble of villagers chased them from the hills Beverly and drowned them in the sea? I believe that any good mother would have cheerfully done this at birth. Yet I cannot turn on my computer or pick up a newspaper without seeing the dilated pupils of these social monsters glaring back at me from the pages, pleading to be just left alone.

We are at a time when they cannot and should not be left alone. Though perhaps more extreme, LiLo is just a more vivid shade of her generation. As I get older, it seems people struggle to gain maturity by thirty. Wasn't there a time when children begged to be allowed to grow up? Wasn't thirteen at one time considered the age of adulthood? Legally, aren't we adults at eighteen? Why, now, are people infantile well into adulthood? And why, why, why do we celebrate it?

If there was ever a generation that cried, screamed, howled to be saved, this is it. Bring back the draft! Not in an effort to win an immoral war, but in an effort to save our national soul. And put Lindsay, Paris, Nicole, Britney, Kevin, Ashton, Jeremy and all of their kind on the front lines.

"Be Adequite." Could there be a more appropriate motto for a generation?

...and Then We Can Go to the Mall!

I'm a giddy, silly little girl. I've just come back from the gym, where I saw RP for the first time in months. I was beginning to worry that he'd found some other gym. Of course I only waved at him after he waved at me from his treadmill. He has this nervous little habit of adjusting his baseball cap. Oh. My. God! Next thing you know I'm going to start writing his name on my notebook and drawing little hearts around it.

I suppose the longer I put off talking to him, the bigger an event it becomes, and if I make it a big enough event one of two things will happen. Either I'll wait long enough and he'll start dating someone else, if he hasn't already, or I'll whip this up into such a monumental task that I'll simply walk away -- like trying to master brain surgery in a weekend. What would be the point?

It's not like I have all my self worth wrapped up in this. If I'm rejected and held up to public ridicule, exposed on the Internet as a delusional pervert, I think I could graciously survive that. But the question becomes do I have to? If I'm virtually assured of being shot down -- as I'm certain I would be -- then why do I entertain this fantasy? Probably because "virtually assured" isn't "absolutely certain."

And, he's really, really totally cute!

Pooped!

I need a vacation after my vacation. Great holiday! Now, on to the concert!

www.cgmc.org

Peaking Over the Edge of the Abyss

My final paper is a personal essay. This is a draft of part of it...

***

Twenty-three years ago, more or less, I had my heart broken for the very first time. Rather, I had my heart ripped from my chest and fed to a flock of flesh-eating aviary beasts and the man who did it sold tickets to the event. The details really are irrelevant at this point, but if I let myself think about it I can very easily get back to that black pit I spent nearly a year in.

From time to time, when I'm really trying to kill time, I run random names through Google to see what comes up. Tonight I ran his name through the search engine and didn't really discover anything particularly new, except that his life is thriving while mine seems to be stuck in perpetual development.

We'll call him J. J. went on to become an Episcopal priest and has developed quite a reputation within the church for his artistic outreach programs. He's now the director of what appears to be a quite successful program on the east coast. Of course, what I really was looking for was a picture of him fat and bald, preferably wheelchair bound, but alas there was none.

I have, however, run across one of his sermons which was posted somewhere, and I think after all this time I found a vague reference to me. He talks about his debiliating alcoholism and how it ruined many relationships in his life, especially one with a roommate. Chances are that's me, but who knows? He could have really messed up somebody else's life.
It was a brilliantly painful time that culminated in the two of us sharing a dorm room for four months not speaking. Not a word. He transferred the next year, and that should have been the end of it. For me, it wasn't.

I spent years trying to figure out why it didn't work between us. Finding his sermon helped a little, but there were two of us in that room, and from 1982 to 1996 I tried very hard to discover what my part in the failure was. I think from 1982 until about 1990, there wasn't a night I didn't go to sleep thinking about J. I was angry. A.N.G.R.Y.

And I'm sure he's never given me a second thought.

One of the websites had his phone number.

Of COURSE I called it! And of course, I knew I'd get his voicemail. But hearing his voice again brought it all back. I can't imagine what we would say to each other now, except maybe, "Weren't we a couple of immature little brats?" I think I might tell him that I really am glad he's done so well and maybe spend a minute or two getting caught up on details that I can't find on the Internet. But the truth is he was very important to me for about six months, and then the person I knew died; if in fact he wasn't always some sort of figment that I created and projected onto the poor kid who shared my dorm room.

But that person was funny. He made me laugh like few people had before, or since. He made me go to parties and I felt comfortable at them. He listened when I talked and remembered what I said. I thought that was love. He came from a very well-to-do family, and I came from poverty. In his pink button-down Ralph Lauren, he had more sophistication than I could have ever dreamed of having in my three-year old Sears sweatshirts. I let myself dream of a life that would never be and I convinced myself that he felt the same for me. He didn't.

The last time I saw him was the day his family came to take him home. He cleaned his side of the room and when he cleared everything out, without speaking, I took a rag and wiped his desk down. He came back into the room, took one last look around and then closed the door behind him. It wasn't even a soft close, or a slam. He closed it as if the room was empty.

It echoed in the virtually empty room. I had very little -- a few books and enough clothes to pack in one suit case. The sound of the door wasn't a click or a thud. Whatever it was bounced off the linoleum floor and plaster walls and I felt like I absorbed the sound. I felt it in my chest and I sat on my bed for several hours afterwards while that sound became part of me. It was a beautiful late Sunday afternoon and the sun was gold. I don't even have to close my eyes to be back in that room. I was wearing a baseball t-shirt with green sleeves. He wore a navy polo shirt and boat shoes. I couldn't cry, and didn't even want to. I really just wanted to get through the next part, whatever it was and however long it lasted.

I've spent a lot of time mourning something that never existed and protecting myself from the sound of closing doors, but I think it's time to move on.

Holiday Blur

A new view of the blog. Time to update and refresh!

I'm on vacation this week and much will be spent at my desk at home working on final papers and short stories. Time to put this degree-in-progress to use!

With the end of school, focus now shifts to the concert. It's going to be great! www.cgmc.org for tickets!

And the holidays. Out to A&J's for Thanksgiving. Arizona for Christmas! The opera tonight. Movies tomorrow. I have to clean my house and decorate. Gifts to ship. Cards to send. NO BAKING! It's all good, and I'm exhausted before I even get started.

Now, I'm off to the gym and back to write my paper. More when I have a minute.

I Need a Vacation...

I've tried to write several entries, but the fact of the matter is I'm in such a lousy misanthropic mood I honestly believe I have nothing of any entertainment or informational value to share. I hate humanity for its stupidity and self-absorbtion and I want nothing more than to sit in a quiet room and read.

But, experience tells me that when I think everyone in the room is a raging asshole, chances are pretty good that there is really only one asshole in the room and I can't see him without a mirror. I have no real idea why I'm in such a foul mood.

****

So, I spent an hour rehearsing my music for the Christmas concert and I feel much better. The music is glorious. I get to sing a very pretty duet. I feel like there is more to my life than just my job and school.

So much better. I'll let them enjoy their party downstairs in thumpa-thumpa peace.

Life is Good

I'm nearly recovered from the flu -- or something like it. I'm not a brave sick person. When I'm running a fever I want my mommy, Campbell's Chicken Soup and a cocoon of blankets on the couch where I can watch One Life to Live. I become ten years old again, and that's what I did when I was sick and stayed home from school.

My CEO at work seems to be on medication, so things are calm. The CFO is going to be fired on Monday, and my direct boss -- the COO -- is in danger of losing his job -- again. On the plus side, I was moved into an actual office with a window and a door. I got grief from some people who thought there were others who should have it, but I always answered with, "The HR Manager should have a door." So all has calmed down. Now I have to find stuff to put on the walls. I work in the sports industry, and I've told them that I'm not putting any memorabilia up. I'll resist the urge to put up opera posters. I'm going shopping.

And I've been working on a new short story. I'm afraid that when I write, I don't have a very good attention span at the early stages. I almost need distractions until the piece clicks. Once that happens, I can spend hours on it. The new piece hasn't clicked yet. But I think it's going to be good. Anyway, one of the distractions I use is to log into a chat room on AOL.

There was a time when chat rooms were used to meet and converse with interesting people from around the globe. Now, for the most part they're used by prostitutes and the people who love them. I'm not one of those people. However, every now and then someone sends a message and for ten or fifteen minutes we send messages back and forth. Then, inevitably, they will ask me to send a picture and I decline. That invariably ends the conversation. I'm not interested in meeting anyone on line -- and certainly not interested in a sex romp. If you're reading this from a link on my AOL profile, take note...I'm not looking for sex!

But these conversations can be entertaining. They usually begin with someone reading my profile and sending me a line complimenting me on it. I say thanks, and it goes from there. Now, I don't list my age on my profile, and so most of the conversations are short because most of the men in chat rooms aren't interested in anyone who has completed puberty. I'm endlessly entertained by men who are too old to date themselves and who have such refined tastes that a thirty-five-inch waist offends their aesthetic sensibilities. That is, excluding their own gellatinous midsection, which is described as "beefy."

What always kills the conversation is when they ask for a picture and I decline. Exactly how stupid do you have to be to send your picture to a total stranger who is trolling the Internet for a random, anonymous sex hook-up? Well, however stupid that is -- I'm not. And some of them will offer to send pictures of themselves first, or just do it without asking, hoping I'll be shamed into reciprocating. Almost without exception the picture is a nude with the head cut off, positioned in what must be imagined as some sort of provocative pose.

Now, I have no pretensions to class or breeding. Yet, I'm quite sure owning a nude picture of oneself that is used to advertise for anonymous sex is not considered a demonstration of either class or breeding. And some of them appear to be professionally taken! So either the sender is so vain that he's hired a professional photographer to photo his manhood in all its glory, or he's so arrogant to believe that the recipient doesn't think he's stolen the picture from some porno site. Yes, the cream of the crop can be found on the Internet. For the record, I do not have any of those pictures either.

But on a rare occasion I will meet someone who is able to carry on a conversation. I do enjoy those, however brief they may be. I've discussed politics to shopping, and they're fun little disposable conversations that provide the perfect distraction from my serious writing. Just like my blog!

Refocus

too personally. Always have and probably always will. But, to take work things at all personally is just, plain stupid. I have to let go of those dramas because the fact of the matter is that I've lived them all before. Here is my focus:

1) Finish my masters degree. This is a project that I started in March of 2004 and will be completed in June of 2007. I've allowed, and am going to continue to allow my job to delay my going on to my Ph.D. for a year. During that year I will create at least one significant piece of work: collection of poems or short stories, or a novel, or a research paper. Instead of completing my applications for the four programs I've chosen in the fall of 2006, I will complete them in the fall of 2007.

2) Expand my social life. Work and school keep me very isolated. There simply is no time for a social life, and yet I must make the time to meet with non-work/non-school-related people at least once a week. Chorus rehearsals help, but they're too big and frenetic for my purposes.

3) Reconnect with my family. For the first time in more than fifteen years we will all be under the same roof at Christmas. Much drama, and none of it mine, has kept us from getting together and has required me to pick and choose where I'd spend my holidays. Finally, this year, everyone has matured enough so that we can all get together at my sister's house. My oldest nephew won't be there -- or at least he's not expected -- but my sister and my mother will be and I'm looking forward to it.

4) Fix my house. I had committed to redoing the kitchen floor and replacing the appliances over Thanksgiving. If that's going to happen I need to start making plans now. My friend K. has agreed to help -- and by help I mean probably do most of it. I've lived here almost four years and I've painted and changed a light fixture.

5) Write. I'm getting a degree in writing, and the only things I write are this blog and papers for class. I'm giving myself some slack on personal writing for now because I have to give time priority to the job and school. That doesn't mean I have to give it less emotional priority. This week we are reading Thoreau in class. I've stumbled across a phrase that I've found inspiring and I'm working it tinto a poem. The poem is frustrating and humbling, but I think when I'm finished it will be competent. I also have a short story rattling around in my head and I need to make some progress on that before it shrivels and dies.

6) The Chorus. I love singing with the chorus. Musically it's not as challenging as I might be able to handle, but given the other demands on my time and attention, it is the right level of distraction. Every concert I'm part of I think is the best one yet. I have some memorization to do.

7) Work. It pays the bills and provides enough challenge so that my eight hours a day are not completely boring. But when I leave work it has to stay at work.

Seeing the Light

At this stage of my life I really should know better. It's not cute or quaint that a full-grown man is repeatedly disappointed in people. It's not endearing to always try to believe the best in people and to continually be disappointed. It's pathetic and stupid.

For years and years I was a jaded, bitter person. I trusted no one and was always ready to point out someone's flaws and mistakes. I found that only made me more bitter and alone. So, I made a vow to try to change and I've worked very, very hard over the last ten years or so to try to focus on the postives in people.

Every now and then I've been disappointed. A few years ago I realized that a noted theater director here in Chicago, whom I had been working with, wasn't really interested in building a theatre ensemble, he was really interested in networking with people he thought had money. (For some reason some people assume I come from money.) I didn't get angry. I simply and calmly told him why I would not work with him again.

Today I discovered that my boss has been lying to me. Whether he knows he's been lying isn't clear, but what is clear is that he's been saying one thing and doing something else. The details of the situation are too tedious to type, but the bottom line is I was slapped in the face by reality and the reality is that several of us were told we were hired to be part of a team to rebuild the company. In fact, we've been brought in to take the blame for the failure, while all the old employees and directors basically steal from the company. I've had moments of suspicion, but always let them go. Now, I'm not sure I can.

I'm lucky in one regard. Although my boss has spent the last three months crying poor mouth, he's found the funds to go to Las Vegas and gamble. That gives me a couple days to get my game face together. But I also work with his wife and I've been swallowing minor irritations for months. I think I may have had my fill.

But, now I have to find a way to keep myself open. Thank God for the chorus. While I don't have a lot of close friends in this group, I also don't have a lot of investment in it. I can go and get as much enjoyment as possible out of it and then leave it alone.

And this Sunday is the Halloween parade in the neighborhood of my old cafe. I'm going to make an appearance and watch all the little kids. I'm feeling nostalgic for my little part-time job running that cafe, but the time to move on has passed. I've made my decision to be a grown up and there is no turning back. I've just got to toughen up and get smarter about people.

The Other Shoe

I went into work yesterday feeling good. I had accomplished some pretty good things and I was part of the forward motion of a company that had been stagnate for nearly a decade. And then I said good morning to the CEO.

Something happened, literally over night and he became a fire-eating dragon. Now, to be fair, whenever he starts off on one of these rants he always begins with, "This isn't about you." He then will proceed on his tirade, grilling me about other people in the office, calling them morons, demanding to know why they don't talk to him about their concerns -- completely not connecting that last comment to his habit of referring to them as morons. Today he sulked in his office all day long and his tantrum permeated the office like the smell of dirty socks. I finally told my boss that I didn't know how much longer I could deal with these tirades.

Then I had the meeting with the administrative assistants. The fact of the matter is that our administrative assistants are little princesses, all of whom believe they are overworked when the reality is that half of them should be thankful they have jobs. For years they've gotten away with the this-is-my-job and this-is-all-I-do and I'm-overworked atttitude. Well, I've been asked to find a way to create a back up network so that administrative work flows more smoothly through the office. You'd have thought that I asked them to serve coffee. The question that irked me the most was, "Well does this mean that anyone can come up to me and tell me to type something?" Does anyone do that to anyone else now? Then why would they start? I just want to rip their overly processed hair right out of their heads. This is the memo I'm sending two of them...

E & L

After work late last night, A gave me a ride home and shared some of your concerns and questions about our meeting yesterday. I am looking forward to meeting with each of you to address your concerns directly, but because Mondays are difficult days to catch me I wanted to jot a few things down in an e-mail to clarify some of my thoughts.

1) This model is still in development. If you have some ideas on how to improve it, I'm looking forward to hearing them.

2) The idea behind this model is not to dump more and more work on you. In fact, it's just the opposite. This should give you some tools to reach out to other members the staff when you might be swamped.

3) I made my rather arbitrary divisions of work based on the feedback I've gotten on your performance, and tried to align you with projects that a) will give you opportunities to shine within the office and b) possibly create opportunities for advancement -- based upon your expressed interests and performance strengths.

So, in addition to making a list of your questions and concerns, I'd also like to ask each of you to pick some time -- maybe a four-hour block of time in the coming week -- in which I can sit with you at your desk and get a better sense of the type of work you are doing and a better handle on the volume. L, in your case I may need to spend an entire day with you because I'd like you to actually train me on your equipment processes. I think this will help me have a better understanding of how this new model will affect your work day.

Let me know when will work for you. For now, after Monday my schedule is wide open.

S.

That ought to shut them up.

Good Day/Bad Feelings

I had a good day at work. I negotiated a contract and brought it in 13% under the industry standard. I played a key role in finishing a major project -- although to be perfectly fare my key role was merely getting people to the table and making them do all the actual ugly work. And I received mild support for a project that really should have been ripped to shreds. And I explained in painful detail why a company policy that has been in place for centuries violated federal law. My explanation included the argument that by following the law instead of the illegal policy I was not unilaterally setting my own policy. Because the policy has been so long standing, my boss is doing his own research into the issue. But I'm right and I know I'm right. It was a good-natured discussion, and it's a point I know I'll win, so I'm not worried.

But I still left work feeling like a ragged, mismatched shoe.

What a great way to feel when you're going to audition for a solo.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have no illusions about my voice. I can carry a tune, and if called upon will not embarrass myself if I have to sing something. I've held my own in duets with trained opera singers and won several competitions. But there are better voices than mine, and certainly better musicians.

So, I went to the audition not particularly nervous. There were a couple pieces I thought my voice was right for and I expressed interest in them -- one in particular. I sang something that I'm sure 47 other people sang, but it was something that was a little unexpected from me, and it went well, so I felt good.

When I arrived, another baritone was auditioning. He's got a good voice, but he's not really a very dynamic performer. A little drab. The director was working pretty intensely with him on a piece, coaxing notes from him and he sounded great. But it was a piece that didn't really require any personality, and I'm not interested in it, so have at it my friend.

Then my turn came. I sang my little ditty. Then, "because I asked about it," the director walked me through part of one of the numbers, and then part of a second one and then said, "That one's too high. Thank you." I don't think I'm a serious consideration for any of the things I sang. But the one song I specifically asked to sing, we didn't cover. And I'm fine with it. Until...

There is another baritone who is clearly the director's darling. He has a marvelous voice -- different from mine -- but he also gets all of the good solos. My voice is at least good enough to carry the song I want. If this other baritone gets the solo without my having gotten a shot at it I'm going to pissed.

Pissed.

The Power of Innocence

Work continues to be dramatic, but I'm in favor again so all is good. I'm able to achieve favor because when someone merely mentions something, I get it done immediately. Like finding an administrative assistant in the heart of Chicago who speaks Chinese and English. And is expert in all of the Microsoft Office products. And will work for less than $40,000. I found two. And he didn't like either one of them so I have to keep looking.

And there are those who would fall off their chairs if they knew that in my office I'm actually considered too nice. I'm not. I just have them believing that I am. I've found a source of almost infinite power in my "aw-shucks" persona. In my last job I was firing someone almost every day. Some of them deserved it, and many did not. To say that it's an emotional drain to continually fire people who know three words of English and have almost no hope of replacing their $8 an hour job is an understatement. The only way I could get through it was to become more upset than the employee. If you frowned, I'd let a tear come to my eye. I you sniffled, I cried. If you cried, I wailed. If you wailed, I keaned. You get the idea. As selfish as it sounds, I turned the entire situation into being about me so the employee was either concerned about me, or thought I was a raging ass. Either way, the exit interviews didn't last very long and I was able to get on with my day.

I've found that the strategy of shifting the focus of an awkward situation on to me can make things easier. Yesterday we had to confront an employee who is obviously stealing. The CFO wants him fired, the employee's boss doesn't want to do that. The meeting started to get tense, so I changed the subject from the employee to me and asked the employee to educate me on his spending habits. He tried to shovel me a load, but because I could ask questions under the guise of not understanding how the business works, we were easily and painlessly able to trap him in his web of lies.

"Golly. You mean the company doesn't mind if you spend four thousand dollars taking the distributors for your side business to Las Vegas? Can that possibly be right?" And by the way, the innocent rube routine only works with blue eyes. If you have green or brown eyes, you can't possibly pretend to be as stupid as I have to pretend to get my job done. Still, I'm doing something right because the CFO -- the man who hates everyone -- said I'm the only person in the company who deserves a bonus this year. Given the bonus pool is nearly a million dollars, I should make out pretty well.

Sybil

I'm beginning to wonder if the CEO isn't mentally ill. He seems to think that the only way he can get things done is if he has an adversarial relationship with his management team. To his defense, the management team has been less than helpful, and at times less than enthusiastic. There has even been one or two instances of outright rebellion. Not from me, of course. I have been the biggest and loudest company cheerleader imaginable. I have absolutely no reason not to.

Yet, the CEO's personality has done an almost one hundred and eighty degree turnaround. For the past two weeks, each one of my days has started with a meeting that lasts anywhere for half an hour to three hours, basically with the CEO ranting -- only to me, mind you -- about how everyone else in the company is out to sabotage him. He says some of the most viscious things about people in the office, and then has the nerve to turn around and complain about the negative attitude.

Last week I finally had to ask him if he saw anything of value in the people he was working with. He then did another one-eighty and talked about the proficiency and good nature of most of the people who work with us. They're nice and friendly, but complete idiots with vendettas against him. I guess.

For months I've been meeting with people, telling them that the CEO has a master plan and to stick with him. But it's hard to defend a master plan that includes a million dollars in bonus money to managers who've lost three million dollars this year. The best I can come up with is to say that it's a reward for not losing six million. And then I came up with the concept of mental illness. At the end of one of our meetings, after he spent an hour having a meltdown, I began to watch him closely. It was almost like he was struggling, trying to control a compulsion. And then after his outburst, he apologized. But that's when he also changed. I'm thinking the early stages of Alzheimers.

Or maybe I'm tired and cranky, and tomorrow I'll feel better. I'm leaving work early and then I have a midterm tomorrow night. Pass or fail, I'll feel better once I'm past the midterm.

Questions

Are you in a relationship?

Other than the completely thrilling and satisfying one in my head with RP, no.

Do you hate more than 3 people?

It's taken me a long time to distinguish between hate and anger. Do I hate more than three people? No. I'm not even sure I hate one person -- but I haven't really decided on George W. Bush yet. If I had to choose, I'd pick Mr. Bush and his mother as being the closest.

How many houses have you lived in?

4.

What is your favorite candy bar?

Do M&M's count? I am truly addicted to plain M&M's. I can't not leave a bag of any size unfinished.

What are your favorite shoes?

I don't get attached to shoes.

Have you ever tripped someone?

Not that I can remember.

Do you own a Britney Spears CD?

Sweet God, no.

Have you ever thrown up in public?

Actually on several occasions. Only once when I was drunk, and then I did it spectacularly on a dance floor when they turned on the strobe lights. I threw up on three different people and a wall. I've thrown up twice at the gym while working out, and twice when I forced myself to go to work and heaved in the street. On those occasions it was well before the sun had come up, so no one saw.

Name something that's always on your mind?

Whether or not I'm making a good impression.

What is your favorite music genre?

This changes with my moods and the seasons. It's autumn now, so I tend more toward jazz and single-instrument classical. I love the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet. Right now I'm also getting into Patti LuPone, Il Divo. I'm just coming out of a Tim McGraw phase.

What is your sign?

Sagitarius

What time were you born?

10:30 a.m.

Do you like beer?

Christmas, 2003, I had a party where I purchased two cases of beer. This past August I threw two thirds of that beer away.

Have you ever made a prank call?

Yes. Lori, from across the street and I spent an afternoon making crank calls and recording them. She pretended to be a four-year-old whose cat was having kittens. And there used to be a way that you could dial a number and when the other end answered all they heard were a series of clicks. I lived in a small town and I'm still not sure they have touch-tone phones yet.

What is the most embarrassing CD you own?

I have two Backstreet Boys CD's. They're packed away now, but there was one summer that they were my own personal sound track.

Are you sarcastic?

Not so much anymore. But having said that, I do have sarcasm down to a fine art. I don't even have to raise an eyebrow. It's something that I can beckon at will and wither everything within a thirty-foot radius. My own special super power.

What are your favorite colors?

Lately I find myself attracted to different shades of yellow. Again, this changes with my mood and the seasons.

How many watches do you own?

That work? Two. I just threw out a very expensive one that had been given to me as a gift by someone who is not longer a friend. The crystal had been accidentally smashed and the battery was dead. Too much trouble to repair.

Summer or winter?

Either, assuming I'm looking at either of them through glass inside a climate-controlled environment.

Spring or fall?

Either. It depends on how brutal the preceding season had been. But as a general rule, I'm always very happy to spring, and sometimes a little sad to see fall.

What is your favorite color to wear?

The vast majority of my clothes are solid, neutrals. If I do wear a color it's cobalt blue. On rare occasions I'll wear a red tone.

Pepsi or Sprite?

Diet Coke, the elixir of life

What color is your cell phone?

I just got my first cell phone. It's silver.

Where is your second home?

I don't know that I have one. I've always imagined that when I retire I'll go back to the town where I grew up. Like for maybe a week before I intended to die, just so whomever is planning my burial won't have to ship the body.

However, my spiritual second home is Paris.

Have you ever slapped someone?

Only on stage.

Have you ever had a cavity?

Yes, and I'm in the process of having all of my fillings replaced for the second time.

How many lamps are in your bedroom?

2, not including the overhead fixture, which I'm changing.

How many video games do you own?

1,

What was your first pet?

Cocoa. He was a little brown puppy my father accidentally ran over with his car. I was three at the time and I remember both my parents being very upset when they told me he ran away.

Have you ever had braces?

Yes. For all four years of high school. They were removed the week I went away to college.

Do looks matter?

Yes, in many subtle and mysterious ways.

Do you use chapstick?

No.

Name 3 teachers from your high school:

John Sether, Julie Gibson, Betty Fedje.

American Eagle or Abercrombie?

Ick!

Are you too forgiving?

No. But I'm pretty slow to be offended. Once offended, however, I never forget.

Do you own something from Hot Topic?

I don't own any sex toys.

What is your favorite breakfast?

The roasted pear french toast at Nookies.

Do you own a gun?

No. I did have a BB gun for a while as a kid, but like my first puppy, it seemed to have run away from home.

Have you ever thought you were in love?

Yes.

When was the last time you cried?

I can't remember the last time I wept uncontrollably. But I was watching Notting Hill, and the ending always makes me a little misty.

What did you do 3 nights ago?

I fell asleep very early.

When was the last time you went to Olive Garden?

I think I've been once, in the late '80's.

Have you ever called your teacher mom?

No, but I've called a few a mother.

Have you ever been in a castle?

Yes. Versaille. I don't really know if that counts as a castle, but it is a palace, so it's almost the same thing.

What are your nicknames?

Scooter. And there are a few people I'll allow to call me Scotty. My sister will call me Ping.

Do you know anyone named Bertha?

I used to. When feeling festive, she'd wear acrylic wigs to work.

Have you ever been to Hawaii?

The closest I've come is the Brady Bunch episode.

Do you own something from Banana Republic?

Many things, and all purchased on e-Bay.

Are you thinking about somebody right now?

No.

Have you ever called someone Boo?

I'm not cute enough.

Do you own a diamond ring?

I'm not cute enough.

Are you happy with your life right now?

For the most part, yes. I'm going to miss when school ends, and I'll be happy when things at work settle down, but those are minor complaints.

Does anyone like you?

This is practically a job requirement. Yes, people like me.

What were you doing May of 1994?

Talk about being unhappy. I was waiting tables and coming to the realization that fame and fortune were not just around the corner. I had quit my job and was determined to become a professional.

McDonald's or Wendy's?

If I'm starving, and there are absolutely no other options, Wendy's.

Do you like yourself?

Most of the time.

Favorite feature of the opposite sex?

I'm gay. In women, I like wit. In men I like beauty.

Are you afraid of the dark?

No.

Have you ever eaten paste?

Not that I recall.

Do you have a webcam?

Actually, yes. It's installed on my computer at work.

Have you ever stripped?

No.

Diamonds or pearls?

Pearls are always unexpected.

What was the last film you saw at the cinema?

Queens.

What are your favorite TV shows?

I am a Law & Order junkie. I miss Judging Amy. I'm addicted to Project Runway, and I never miss Dancing with the Stars.

What did you have for breakfast?

Croissants and Diet Coke.

What is your middle name?

Carter.

What is your favorite cuisine?

Pizza. I know it's not "cuisine," but I'm simple.

What foods do you dislike?

I tend to avoid any cuisine from India to Eastern Europe.

What is your favorite CD at the moment?

I'm in transition.

What kind of car do you drive?

I do not now, nor have I ever, nor do I ever expect to own a car. Consider that my sacrifice to the environment.

Favorite sandwich?

Leona's Meatball Sandwich.

What characteristics do you despise?

Having an air of superiority.

What are your favorite clothes?

I have a pair of cargo shorts I love.

If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation where would you go?

Lake Como.

What color is your bathroom?

Pink and gray.

Favorite brand of clothing?

Banana Republic.

Where would you want to retire to?

I'd like to retire to a small resort community on a lake in Minnesota.

Favorite time of day?

Between 3 and 7 a.m. When I'm in a productive groove, waking up at 3 a.m. and working for those first four hours are almost heaven.

Where were you born?

Sioux City, IA.

Favorite sport to watch?

I always figure there is no real point to watching sports. If you're interested, you should be doing them. I feel that way about singing. I don't really need to hear anyone sing. I'd rather just do it myself.

Are you a morning person or night owl?

I'm definitely a morning person. For me, it's almost all down hill after noon.

What did you want to be when you were little?

I wanted to be an oceanographer. My father bought me a snorkel one summer and when I realized that all water wasn't a sparkly clear as it was on Flipper, I lost interest.

What is your best childhood memory?

My father tended to be a little crusty. He took in free-lance work at home, and painted signs in the basement. When he was working, my sister and I had to be very quiet. One night, we'd been put to bed on the pull-out sofa, and my grandmother was watching Lawrence Welk. She said she saw something outside the window. When Carol and I looked, we caught just a very quick glimpse of Santa Claus. We started screaming because when he'd seen us we were being good. My father came up from the basement and gave us hell. It was several years after his death, when I was in my 20's before I ever knew that it was him in a Santa mask peeking in the window.

Eye Color?

It depends on what I'm wearing. Anywhere from gray to cornflower blue.

Ever been toilet papering?

No.

Favorite day of the week?

Sundays when I don't have to get up and serve people breakfast. I feel almost human on those occasions.

Stress and Good News

Tomorrow is the big presentation in which the CEO basically outlines his vision for the company. It's going to be a tough message and he's going to announce staff cuts -- with the actual cuts happening early next week. I'm not looking forward to the coming week. The CEO and CFO continue to be at war, and I met with the CFO to see if I could get him to come up with some sort of positive outlook. Nada.

The CFO has a minion that I've been working with. The Minion comes from a very prestigious school and is very smart. But not as smart as he thinks he is. He thinks he's playing everyone off each other and that none of them have a clue. I do, and I'm doing everything I can to keep my distance. He's toxic. The project we were working on together is ending and I couldn't be more glad. I can barely look at him, I dislike him so much.

On the plus side, I got my statement from my mortgage company, and starting next month my mortgage payment is going down nearly $100 a month!

Now off to read French philosophy...

Pieces II

I took the day off work yesterday to run errands and write an essay. I'm entering it into a contest, and the deadline is midnight tonight. I also have to: read a hundred pages of French philosophy, go to the gym, write a response to an ancient Japanese essay, go to the dry cleaners, create a two-page employee review form, do my laundry and go to the grocery store. So, of course I'm updating my blog.

***

Work continues to grow more tense around me. I am daily having meetings with my boss's boss, who daily keeps telling me that he wants to fire my boss. The CEO and CFO are still conducting an indirect war, but through it all I'm am repeatedly told that I am loved. It's a pay check.

***

School is good, however I'm afraid that my professor is beginning to live up to his reputation. As I'm sure is true of most English classes, most of the students are female, so I thought it was a tad inappropriate to assign an essay where the writer describes in detail his relationship with his own penis. Still, from a technical standpoint, it was a well-constructed essay, and written by the editor of our text, so it made sense. Still, although mercifully brief, the discussion of the essay made me uncomfortable. I'm not a prude, per se, but I just prefer not to hear my professors make sexual insinuations. I continue to sit in the back and pray he doesn't call on me.

***

And yesterday I began looking into redoing my kitchen. The estimate comes in at around $15,000, which is exactly three times what I want to spend. I guess I'm going to have to take this in pieces, and I'm starting with the floor. I've asked a friend to help me lay tile, and I think I'm going to order a new refrigerator and stove. Then a new light fixture. I think I do all of that for under $2000. The rest will have to wait.

OK. The gym calls.

Romantic Melancholia II

RP has missed two rehearsals. I beginning to fear he might have dropped out.

When Good Things Happen to Bad People

Recently, someone with whom I attended college received national recognition for a job well done. Those ingnorant of his history might interpret his work as "fresh;" however it is the same tired work he turned in more than twenty years ago. His work literally put me to sleep. When news of his award reached me, I involuntarily screamed, but quickly regained my composure and went on with my life.

This morning, while avoiding writing a paper on George Orwell, I entered a nearly forgotten name into a random search engine, only to discover that another soulless creation has risen to the top of his chosen vocation. Granted, he is now a vice president of marketing at Disney, and such success no doubt carries its own special black rewards. Still, I'd have been happier had I been told that he was toothless and living under a bridge.

That, I realize, makes me a shallow, vindictive prick. But the realization that my petty jealousy over the success of some of God's damaged children makes me also realize that I, at least, still have soul. Bruised and withering, but my soul is still mine. True, I freely admit I am not earning in the mid-six figures, nor am I in any danger of standing behind a podium thanking the little people; and I'd like to be able to point to some monumental success, but can't. Instead, at any given moment I can rattle off a long, long list of my social deficiencies. One need only look at my bank account to understand that professional success has eluded me.

Still, as I reflect upon my connection to these two individuals I am ambivalent. I can say that I envy their success, but I do not covet their exact success. I can only speculate what it cost them to get where they are. The first person never possessed a soul. Never. The second had a soul once, but I watched him sell it. While my "friend" was still in college, he took an older, financially generous gentleman as a lover. They lived together in an Old Town townhouse, one that allowed him to ride a gifted bicycle around the hallways, while he got his career off the ground -- and repaid his student loans. In less than a year this individual was debt free, and dumped his benefactor/lover. The gentleman was crushed. The Christmas following the break up, the gentleman presented the individual with a mountain of gifts with the simple request that my "friend" just not return them for cash. Of course, that is exactly what happened. Shortly after that I lost touch with my "friend." It became very clear that we two had very different values.

The last time I saw him we went to a party together. My friend and I waited tables together and it was a work Christmas party. After about an hour, my friend gave me a quick kiss good-bye. I called a couple of days, but knew he wouldn't return my call. A couple of years later we ran into each other on the train. We spoke briefly as I got off. And that was that.

The knowledge that I've kept my soul and my Mary-Haynes dignity is cold comfort as I sit down to write a pointless response paper to an essay that was written nearly sixty years ago, while these two receive wealth and accolades. I'm not even sure that the hope that future fortune awaits makes me feel better.

On to George...

Pieces

I started my new class this week. It's being taught by a professor who has the reputation of being something of a pig. I've personally watched him sexually harass another professor. I really wanted to avoid one of his classes, but it's not been possible. After the first session I've decided that he may be a pig, but he can teach. I hate to say it, but this might be my favorite class of the program.

***
Work continues to be dramatic. There is a power struggle a-brewing, and it's really requiring people to take sides. I see only one option. If, in the very unlikely event, my side loses power I'm still likely to have a job. And even if I don't, I am making some pretty powerful contacts who will feel obliged to find me another job.

***
The chorus started rehearsal last week. This is the twenty-fifth season. I hate the first rehearsals because nothing really gets done and there is just a bunch of flitting around and peacocking. There is nothing more boring. I actually am starting to give some serious thought to giving the chorus up. But I'll probably stick with it. For now.

***
The house is almost completely excavated. Housekeeping has never been my strong suit, but this summer it got pretty bad. The kitchen floor needs scrubbing, and the bathroom is still a swamp, but the rest is presentable and I only have three loads of laundry pending. Now, I think I need to take a serious look at renovation. Kitchen or bathroom, one has got to be done within the next year. Bathroom is cheaper, but kitchen is in more need.

***
I really just need to win the lottery.

Romantic Melancholia

There are just certain times of year that evoke strong memories, and the first weeks in September take me back to my undergraduate life. I have vivid memories of those four autumns and the sweet, adolescent angst.

At the start of my freshman year I knew only one person on campus, Sarah. She'd graduated from my high school a year ahead of me and gone to Drake. We weren't exactly friends, but she was probably one of the first people to see and accept me as me. I often wonder what happened to her. By the time I got to campus her life was in high drama. I wasn't aware of the details, but she dropped out of school after the first semester of that year. I believe she went into the air force, and years later I heard rumors that she found Jesus in the cornfields back home.

My sophomore year found me determined to make a best friend out of my roommate. It was disasterous and very painful for both of us. He devolved into alcoholism very quickly and left campus after that year. I had a nervous break down. Over the years I heard stories about him and occasionally I Google his name. If I've located the right guy, he's actually an Episcopal priest in New York. I would never get in touch with him, but I read a sermon of his that I think mentions me. If it's not me, he relived the drama with someone else. At least he doesn't put all of the blame on me.

My junior year was probably my best year. I lived on campus, alone, but comfortable with the fact. If I had to pinpoint a moment in time when I began to become a grown up, that fall would be it.

However, my senior year saw some backsliding in the maturity department. The only comfort I have to offer myself is that I'm pretty certain everyone else was living their own dramas to such a level that mine barely registered.

Yet, on rainy Sunday mornings such as this, I just want to put on some Elvis Costello and Elton John and think about what life was like then and exactly how far I've come. There are recurring themes, but they're not as flourescent as they were when I was twenty-one. And now I don't see those themes as disfiguring indicators, imperfections that no one else possesses. They are simply elements that make up me. No real shame or pride, just facts.

I just put "Riot Act" on. If I close my eyes, I can see shadows of my old dorm room. Ten years ago I would have been back there and the pinches and twinges I felt then would come become immediate. Now, I just see shadows. I'm not in the room, on the campus, in the classes, saying things I wish I'd said then. I see myself there, frozen like a film. The pinches are now just itching, faded scars. "Oh, remember when you got that one?" Like the six-inch scar down the top of my right forearm: there, visible for all to see, but part of me."

I can look back on all the silly drama and smile a little. Now.

"Just a Memory."

Comes Autumn

I hardly feel like I've had a summer and now it's gone. But with fall always comes refocus, and I need that right now.

I just calculated my projections for my GPA when I graduate in June. If all goes well, I should end up with better than 3.9. Not perfection, which was my initial hope, but certainly beyond respectable. This realization has kicked my butt a little. I've gone too far, and way too far into debt, to not begin filling out applications for Ph.D. programs. Since this all started, I've had my eye on four programs here in Chicago. There is only one that I think will be a bit of a stretch to be accepted. Of course, that's the one I want. There are two that I think I've virtually a shoe-in. One of those, if accepted, I'd really have to consider, the other I'd really have to consider passing. I'm too old -- and not old enough -- to go to school simply to go to school. I have to keep a financial pay off in sight and the questionable program would really leave me in serious doubt of landing a teaching position when I was finished.

And then there are the financial considerations. I took my current job thinking there would be a big pay day at the end of three years. I'm beginning to doubt that. And with no serious pay off, I see no reason to stay around if I can get into a good Ph.D. program. But, how will I support myself while I'm working on the degree? These are all questions I can't answer today, and were questions I couldn't answer when I started my master's. You just plow ahead and trust that the answer will present itself.

Do not believe in dead ends.

Kid in a Candy Store

I re-auditioned for the chorus yesterday. A mere formality as even the weakest, most tone deaf are not turned away. The director told me that he was instituting a new policy and instituting a seating chart, grouping all of the strong voices together.

That means I'll probably be sitting next to RP.

Those Whom the Gods Would Destroy...

It was another tense week at work. Yesterday I was at my desk at 5:30 in the morning and did not leave the office until after 7:00. The centerpiece of the day was a six hour strategy meeting in which tempers flared and jobs were threatened. It was ugly.

The first half actually went pretty well. I was a little disappointed because a company model was being presented that had virtually been shot down two weeks earlier. But the CEO kept his cool and all was fine. Then lunch. After lunch it was my turn. I had been charged with determining staff reductions in the administrative areas. I basically proposed that none were needed at this time, that the staff was under utilized, and that if they were properly managed we simply would not need to add staff. It was tense, and the CFO, who is scrounging for pennies, was not happy, but I only got a few bruises. My pride was a little hurt, but no real fireworks.

Those came when the CFO proposed shutting down our biggest division. It generates the most revenue, but costs are out of control, it's grossly inefficient, and most of the staff of that division have a flagrant disregard for company policies. But it holds our single most valuable asset and the bottom line is we simply cannot flush it down the toilet.

The CEO stopped just short of calling the CFO an idiot (that came later, with me, behind closed doors). Then he went after my boss, the COO. When all was said and done everyone in the room stalked out in a huff, (leaving me to clean up - by the way).

The CEO got even more annoyed with me when I followed him into the office to make sure he was OK. "For the thousandth time," he said, "when I get angry it's with an objective in mind." I get that. What I can't seem to make him understand is that he only thinks he understands how his little outbursts effect people -- believing they motivate his staff in some way -- but he doesn't see the real damage they do to his team, both personally and professionally. And he's really not seeing the damage it's doing to his relationship with his team. We are at the point where he is creating a "me vs. them" scenario, and he's definitely squelching any creative thought or participation. Very shortly the team members are going to get the message that it's not safe to venture any ideas and that we are simply a rubber stamp for the CEO's brilliance.

Tick, Tock

So, I check in on a couple of blogs regularly. Two of them are written by people I know very casually. One of them just cracks me up. If what he's posting is intentionally funny, then the guy is a genius. But somehow I think not.

I first met "Jack" in chorus. He was my "orientation buddy." In the first nanosecond of acquaintance I was aware that I disappointed Jack in some way. His face fell. He was polite, but there was a slight possibility that I could have been reassigned to someone else and he tried to take it. But me, being me, wouldn't hear of it. I was assigned to Jack, and he was stuck with me.

As it turns out, Jack and I have a few things in common. We're both from Iowa, both grew up doing musicals... well that's really about it. He works in advertising -- I kid you not -- proudly writing the ad copy used in all that paper that clogs your mailbox. Oh, and he writes a blog. And truth to tell, it's a bit cloying, but he has an entertaining style.

The thing that just cracks me up about Jack is how vain he is. With very, very little justification for that vanity. His initial disappointment at our meeting had absolutely everything to do with my appearance. What else could he possibly have known about me? I don't know exactly what is wrong with my appearance in Jack's eyes, but I do not measure up. I suspect it's because I've committed the unpardonable sin of living past the age of 35 without being appropriately embarrassed by the fact.

During my first weeks with the chorus, I did everything I could think of let Jack know I wasn't interested in him other than to be my orientation buddy. I giggled at his bitchy comments about other people in the chorus -- and he had a lot of them. I oo-ed and ah-ed over his reports of progress in preparing for his first marathon. I complimented him on the pictures he brought of himself dressed in drag. All I wanted was to get to know him well enough that he would introduce me to other "ugly" people in the chorus, and then I could be rid of him.

When he completed his first marathon, I brought him a split of champagne. His response? "I don't drink." To which I took his hand, wrapped it around the bottle and said, "Wash your hair with it."

Then I turned and walked away, unproperly styled head held high.

Over the past two years, I've had rare occasions to smile and nod in his general direction. This summer I had to sing with him, and neither of us spoke to the other. I wouldn't say we share an active animosity, but I've gotten the message that I'm inferior, and I'm content with it. I see no need to try to prove myself worthy.

But I am enthralled by his blog. Now, I completely understand one's reluctance to post anything too personal on a random blog. And Jack's restraint really is commendable. There really isn't anything on the blog too embarrassing. He dithers on about his new condo and his ever-evolving love life. He hints at his slutty behavior that no one is supposed to really know about. Really, it all comes out of the "Being a Chicago A-Gay Wannabe Handbook." Why someone would actively cultivate an image that is being sported by every third queen on Halsted baffles me -- but since every second queen on Halsted is striving for this image, I'll concede there's something to it I don't understand. Except Jack's fascination with posting pictures of himself without his shirt. I'll also concede that Jack clearly spends a great deal of time exercising his body. I'd suggest that he modify his routine slightly -- he has an obsession with his arms. For a man of his age, he looks good. Not startling gorgeous, but good. But, at what age does posting semi-nude photos of yourself go from being silly and vain to creepy and desperate? I'm going to say 30. Up to 30, a man-boy can pull off being silly and vain and it can work. After that, it's time to be a grown up and lose the boy. Jack is 39 and demonstrates all the maturity of a cheerleader mom who hasn't gotten the message that the homecoming game is over.

Am I bitter? Perhaps. Mostly at being dismissed by someone so shallow. I consoled myself in high school with the mantra that when I grew up, people would be different. Turns out, their not. But as my social group ages -- and Jack is aging just like the rest of us -- that lack of evolution is very entertaining.

This Too Shall Pass...

I am emotionally exhausted. Without sharing all of the boring details, I had a minor meltdown at work this past week. No blood was let and shockingly all relationships seem to be stronger than ever. Still, I need to find a way to ask for what I need before there is a crisis.

I guess the big news is that tomorrow my boss is going to be asked to take a six-month sabbatical. He'll have twenty-four hours to accept the invitation. There really isn't an alternative. Much change needs to take place within the organization, which means as much as a third of the staff needs to be removed or changed, and my boss is not emotionally equipped to make the changes needed. Many of the people who need to be let go are almost like family to him, having worked together for more than twenty years, and the dread of having to be involved in those separations has him paralyzed. The list hasn't been finalized yet, but since he cannot be objective, and has demonstated his inertia repeatedly, he will be asked to step aside.

This, of course, means that I will be more intimately involved in these changes than I would like. But, it isn't anything I haven't been through before. And as in the other situations, there will be one or two cases that I will actually enjoy. Several of the people have lived very comfortably without really contributing accordingly to the general good of the organization; and they've gotten quite smug with the idea that they are untouchable. Now, understand, I have very little input in the final decisions, but I have been asked my opinion and of the twenty-three names on the list, I've only objected to three. I anticipate the final toll to be about twelve. October 15 is the projected date.

As almost an afterthought, school is going well. Summer sessions are brutal as they are full classes crammed into half the time. The workload is brutal and I have two major projects due this week. The first is nearly completed, but the second is barely begun and I have almost no interest in beginning it. The past four weeks have been simply work, school and sleep. If I wasn't able to pay my bills online, I'd be homeless. I'm stealing these few minutes to update my devoted readers and prevent them from sending out bloodhounds in search of me.

My next post, God willing, should be a celebration from academia!

I Love...

...online banking. I tingle with organization.

The Sims/Real Life

Over the last ten years I have been almost singularly focused on goal achievement. The first seven of those years were spent on career growth, where I essentially tripled my income. That focus however exacted a price in a very severe depression that I spent nearly five years battling.

Now that I'm back in a professional setting, I am once again having to remind myself what is really important. At the moment things are beginning to become tense at work, and it really is going to take some effort to remind myself that this job is merely a source of income, not my identity. I've always had a tendency to take things too personally and in the past that has gotten me into deep trouble. I can see where the tendency is beginning to surface, but I also think I'm self aware enough to avoid the pitfalls.

After my mother, my sister, and her family, nothing is more important to me than school. Then my home and my friends. Then my job. If the job goes away, I'll get another. I'll never have another mother, sister, or education. Those things are irreplaceable.

On a lighter note, last weekend I indulged myself and bought my first computer game, The Sims. Essentially it's an elaborate soap opera game in which you can create the characters and live out their lives. I was going to be really pissed if all of the characters had to be straight, so the first thing I did was starved off the ugly fat woman and her husband. Then I created a gay couple. It took a while for the game to recognized the couple I had created as a couple. It wouldn't let me put them in the same bed. But finally, through a course of interaction, the game offered my an option to kiss. I seized it, and before long my two boys were in the same bed. Soon the game even let them adopt a baby girl. And just like in real life, they can't get married.

It's a stupid game, but I flipped it on this morning, intending to play for half an hour. SIX and a half hours later I quit because I needed food. The game is scored on a number of different categories in which your characters have to perform tasks to keep their energy up in those categories. Much like real life, the key to the game is maintaining a balance. When one thing gets out of balance, the character's whole life suffers.

Everything seems to offer life lessons these days.

I'm exhausted and off to bed. Tomorrow will be a big day at work.

Emotional Vampire Royale

Without going into too much embarrassing detail, a major portion of my life has been spent battling vampires. Not the Ann Rice, Bram Stoker variety. I'm talking about the emotional vampire.

The emotional vampire is someone who feeds off the emotions of others. They usually crave a particular emotion, such as anger, sorrow, pity; and they will go out of their way to generate that emotion in others. The more insidious are able to effortlessly manipulate complex situations to their advantage, creating oceans of the needed emotion. Frequently these incubi and succuba are very charming, and can appear carefree until they are ready to strike.

For a time I was something of a emotional vampire-in-training. I didn't realize it, in part because I was struggling with depression. My emotions of choice were pity and anxiety, and the brilliance of my personal strategy was that if I was unable to generate sufficient amounts of pity, I could internally generate an almost inexhaustible amount of anxiety. Then I stopped, and that's another story.

Today I find myself smack dab in the middle of an emotional vampire feeding frenzy at work. It's bloody, verging on operatic in scope and try as I might I can't seem to avoid it. Not for lack of trying. But, being a former incubus myself and a prime provider of emotional sustenance to such creatures in the past, I'm not only attractive to these vampires, I seem to attract them. In this particular case, like Van Helsing himself, I am unafraid and have met one of the old-time vampires at work. My job sort of requires that I deal with these messes, but usually they are on a much lower level with neophyte vampires. The current work situation however can be described as nothing less than a skirmish between good and evil. While I'm not the focal point of this grand tragedy-in-the-making, I have reached the point where I have to declare my allegiance. Choosing incorrectly promises much gnashing of teeth and howling in lakes of emotional fire. Aligning myself with the ultimate winner should be the entre into paradise.

I, quite simply, do not overstate. Let the games begin.

Nanner, Nanner, Boo-Boo!

This afternoon I sang with the chorus for the Sondheim festival in Millennium Park. As we were leaving the stage some Christian hecklers with a bullhorn started shouting that we were all going to burn in hell. So, we returned to the stage and sang our own prideful version of "We're Still Here." It was one of the best moments of my summer.

I, Helen of Troy

This week I had two grown men fighting over me. I can tell you, first hand, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

I’ll try not to bore you with all of the irrelevant details, but the bottom line is that there is a power struggle going on between the management, led by the new CEO, and the three original founders of the company, led by the Chairman of the Board.

In broad strokes, the Chairman came to me and asked me to do something that is just a tiny bit illegal. I told him I’d look into it, and found a way to accomplish the end result legally. I took my solution to the CEO, who was the one to approve such action, and he asked for my advise. I told him I didn’t want to do anything, and that it really was in our best interest, both long term and short term, to do nothing. He agreed and refused to approve any action.

Well, the Chairman didn’t like that. As is his way, he began back-room manipulations, trying everything he could think of to get his way. This infuriated the CEO. The Chairman claiming I promised that the project would be done and the CEO telling him that he wouldn’t approve it. The Chairman then went on to blacklist me and insist that I be fired. Luckily both my boss the COO, the CFO and the CEO all came down on my side. In a closed, glass-door meeting apparently things got so hot between the CEO and the Chairman that they were gearing up to throw punches and were prevented only by the CFO.

A formal showdown comes on Tuesday, at the official board of directors meeting. At that time I should either be unemployed or have a promotion and a big, fat raise.

Stay tuned…

You Know You're an Ungrateful SOB...

...when you get up in the morning and discover that your wallet is missing, so you start making the dreaded phone calls canceling credit cards; then, when you've just hung up from canceling the last card, the cabbie from last night rings your door and delivers your wallet. If' he'd just been a half hour earlier...

At least I don't have to replace my driver's license, student ID, gym card, Jewel or Dominick's cards, library card...etc.

But still, whatever happened to good, old-fashioned American customer service? Just another example of how our society has deteriorated.

Vacation Ramblings

* I love online banking. I paid all of my bills in less than five minutes.

* Crime sucks. While at the movies with my friend J. the front wheel to my bike was stolen. Depending on my schedule, I may not be able to replace it until next Saturday.

* Paid vacations rock! I still have three glorious work-free days before I have to head back to the office. I'm pretending I don't notice the little pit of dread gnawning away at my stomach.

* Gaining focus in hard. As I think I've written before, focus requires making choices, and I have difficulty doing that because I want it all!

* Choices I've made this past week include: committing to my return to the gym, walking away from the seductive television set, and cleaning my kitchen. All of these are mature, responsible choices that were made in favor of eating pound bags of M&M's, watching the entire last season of Six Feet Under for the third time, and hosting crawling bugs and emerging diseases.

* Things I've not yet accomplished on my vacation: I haven't written a single short story. I haven't finished Anna Karenina. I haven't gotten to the beach.

* Things I have accomplished on my vacation: I sang two concerts and a memorial service. I marched in the Pride Parade. I reconnected with my friends J. and C. I'm going to visit A&J tomorrow. I reestablished my gym routine. I did all my laundry. I hosted a small dinner party. And I chilled.

The chilling part is really what is most important during vacations, and I've perfected it. But I can feel the siren call of responsibility, so I'm easing back into the routine, and trying not to count the weeks until Labor Day Weekend. I still have nine days that I can take this year, but that just seems so paltry. I'm trying to save up time for next summer and a modest trip to Europe. More on that later.

Disappointment

I've discovered that RP is, indeed, human -- and not a particularly decent one.

From what I can gather: Six months he unceremoniously dumped his boyfriend of six months. Said boyfriend, PL, from all accounts was devastated. Now, understand, I'm not especially a fan of PL's. He's vain and needy and condescending. I have to admit that I got a tiny bit of pleasure from the knowledge that his relationship with RP ended dramatically. To get over the pain, PL threw himself into his work and workouts and managed to find another boyfriend. And now RP is all over PL. Tonight at rehearsal they were virtually inseparable. But because PL is vain and needy and condescending, RP will eventually dump him again; and this time I'm not taking any pleasure in what is sure to be nasty.

On top of that, for the first time, ever, I am standing next to RP for one of the songs, and he took some rather thinly veiled digs at me. And with the same amount of lilt in my voice I dished it right back.

Of course I knew the character I'd created in my head didn't really exist, and have been prepared from the beginning for the sad moment when RP would actually become human. I guess the disappointment is that the fantasy that I've enjoyed for over a year is dissolving and there's nothing on the horizon to replace it. Ah, back to Ben Affleck.

The Ticking Clock

It's oppressively humid this morning, the sky like wet cotton balls pressing down. The kind of days I hate. You tell yourself that things would be better if it rained, but you know its a lie. It literally is not the heat, it's the humidity.

I slept late this morning, getting up at about 8:30, and then wandered out in search of breakfast. My love affair with my waffle iron is on the wane. I've been through four boxes of mix and I've had enough for now. I'm sure it will rekindle again in four or five years. But at the moment, the only thing in my kitchen is dirty dishes and canned peaches. I'd order more groceries, but I will barely be home this week. Next weekend is the final concert with the chorus for the season, and it's the week before my vacation so things will be hectic at work. But then I will have nine consecutive, glorious, paid days off.

Those nine days are taking on increased significance for me. In particular, this morning I became acutely aware of the ticking clock and all of the things I want to accomplish that simply are not getting done. This post for one thing is a product of that awareness. I must take my writing more seriously. To that end, I've been doing a great deal of reading and have mapped out both my reading and writing summer. I've just finished Jane Smiley's book on writing novels. In it she lists one hundred books to reference in creating fiction. I obviously cannot read all one hundred this summer -- it took Smiley three years -- but I have identified three that Smiley refers to lavishly in her book: Anna Karenina, Don Quixote, and Beloved. I've started Anna and I'm almost to the point where I stopped reading the first time I picked it up, which is not very far. Smiley did Anna in a month. I've given myself two weeks. Also, by the end of my vacation, I want to have five short stories roughed out as well as a preliminary outline for a novel. My next class starts on July 18, and by then I want to have two more stories roughed. If I can get one more done by Labor Day, I'll be cranking, but then I'll have to put aside all writing as I'm anticipating the fall term to be almost unbearable in work load. The holiday break should complete the collection in preparation for the beginning of shopping it around after the first of the year.

There. I've posted the schedule on the web for all the world to see. If history repeats itself, that virtually insures that New Year's Eve will roll around and I'll have nothing to show for my time. But my relationship to time seems to be changing. I feel it tightening. A day isn't as long as it used to be and the list of things I want to accomplish just seems to extend into infinity. If I try to see the end of the list, I get dizzy; so the best course of action is to take the first step and not look up for the rest of the year.

Also, I'm trying to make the committment to at least one blog post a week. I must keep my loyal readers entertained!

Cosmetic Procedures

So, yesterday I went to the dentist for a second time in a month. The first time was for my first check up and cleaning in three years. No insurance, no check ups. At that exam he told me I had my first cavity in thirty-five years and that my fillings needed to be replaced. Yesterday I went in to have the new cavity filled and one of the old fillings taken care of.

The bill for those two simple visits was nearly $600. My portion was a little over $90, but my dentist doesn't use silver fillings anymore -- the only kind covered by my insurance. Instead he uses a porecline concoction that gives the teeth of seventeen year old. The receptionist told me they'd submit the claim to the insurance and if they didn't cover everything they'd send me a bill for the balance. Somehow I'm not comforted by that.

A New Attitude

I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. I'm in the midst of spring hibernation. Saturday comes and it's all I can do to drag myself out of bed. I'm better on Sunday and then Monday rolls around again and I'm good to go. But Saturday is my day and I don't feel like sharing right now.

The chorus has gotten smaller for this Pride concert, but the music is great. Fewer distractions, although RP is still here -- unaware of my existence. I've said it before... he'd flirt with a cucumber. It means nothing. Still I get all floopy when he even looks in my general direction. The concert is in two weeks and then we have the entire summer off and apart.

School starts again in mid July, and I plan to have at least five short stories ready for a publishable collection. My fall class promises to be exhausting hell, so I'm not even going to pretend to write anything again until the holiday break. My goal is to have a collection ready for submissions by June of next year. Very doable. Once that's done, I'm going back and fixing my first novel and then finishing my second. I really need to get back into the discipline of the gym and writing.

Three years ago I was in a brilliant groove, getting up at 4:00 or earlier and getting some writing done before I hit the gym and then to work. Now the alarm goes off at 4:00 and I don't even remember turning it off. OK. Tomorrow is the first day of my productive routine. And for that to happen, I must to bed.