daily preciousness

Monday, January 28, 2002

a hottie

Dear diary,

Bedded a hottie with chocolate brown eyes. He and I shared a delightful evening together. I shall not say what we did. Except that we did "it."


I think H is very special!


Tuesday, January 15, 2002

glad to be human

Tapped into the vast reserves of the collection's CDs today. My first snatch was "Maroon" by the Bare Naked Ladies. Not bad. I've decided that I'll keep this CD on my heavy rotation playlist at my desk.

Thank God my boss likes music, too. I can have a little background noise at the office, which will help matters immensely.

I love the fact that I get paid to play with stuffed animals, cut out paper snowflakes and talk with kids about books. It's a great fit for me.

This weekend, more apartment-hunting. I might make a few calls and set up an auto viewing, too. We'll see.

Not much happening with the ol' social life. I'm just keepin' things simple. No entanglements. Just friendly visits with new pals.

This morning on the metro, I was listening to the oft repeated phrase, "Please stand clear of the doors." I thought that I could use that as a mantra, if I only change the words to "Please stand clear of J'adores." It might be a good policy for me to take until I get over a few of my present feelings.

Super-helpful Nate helped me last weekend, carting me around so I could see some places for rent. He was a great traveling companion and very helpful. As you might expect from an aerobics instructor, he was incredibly energetic. And as you might expect from an actuary, his mathematical skills were impeccable. Nate has a luminous set of blue eyes that are somehow very comforting to me. While I normally don't feel this comfortable around strangers, I believe that Nate has achieved "insta-friend" status. We'll see what develops there.

Meanwhile, The Last Baron has offered to help me look for apartments this weekend. Can't wait to meet him. It's so wonderful when people are this helpful. Makes me glad to be human.

Friday, January 11, 2002

first week

Hmmm. Need to clear some things up with Steven. I'm afraid that my previous entry might've miffed him.

Still need Steven in my life. Still have to know that we have a bond. Still need to feel something there with him, so I can't have him pissed off at me. He was visiting with his cousin, not a friend, from out of town. Didn't mean to mislead.

Difficult and grey days. Partly cloudy this weekend.

Studied the art of the Etruscans and the Greeks today, while doing some weeding. I'd have to say that I still prefer ancient Asian to ancient Western art. Except for Egypt. Their two-dimensional totally flattened plane style is still a hit today. Got to love that.

Highlight to my day: Explaining how Greek myths were just that, *myths*. But I told the cheerful, cherub-faced little 12-year-old girl, "But they're such great stories that we read them even today." She just smiled and held her hands out.

Moments like that make me glad to be doing this job.

This is the end of my first week. All indications point to a great job with friendly people.

Thursday, January 10, 2002

new job

Started Monday with the new job.

Everybody there is very friendly. Played finger games and did crafts with the pre-schoolers. Met some wacky stay-at-home Mom. She looked like Audrey Hepburn -- if Audrey Hepburn had been a little underweight and a lot less classy.

Nice enough lady, though.

Finally met the ONLY OTHER GUY that works here. He's straight, thank God. I'm just not in the mood for an office romance right now. And I'd probably have fallen for him, since I really go for the librarian type. Sort of sick, I know.

Talked with Peter "The Last Baron" last night. We chatted briefly as I made supper. Told me about his childhood in Germany and discussed how different the culture is there. "We are born under a blue sky and die in a dark forest," he reminded me. Love that quote. Gotta love those macabre Germans!

Today's lunch: carrots, cashews and peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Tasty. Found a hip hop station on the radio I like: FM 95.5. It's clever stuff, hip hop, as long as it's unique and intelligently done. One of the songs sampled the opening few seconds of George Michael's "Father Figure." Great sample. And very different.

Daily preciousness, dear journal, I've missed you. I need to spend more time with you, now that I'm single again and full of stories to tell.

My heart is so lonely now that I'm no longer in love -- no longer loved, romantically, at least.

Why is it that part of me requires emotional fulfillment like that? I feel like a cricket that chirps alone, solitary, on a hilltop, when I'm single. That's no fun.

Well, I will adjust. And being new in town certainly is a challenge. I just want a few friends to call and hang out with. That's not too much to ask.

Falling out of love. Realizing that the sun doesn't rise and set on a certain special guy. That's challenging. I have to keep that in mind. It's going to be a difficult few weeks/months for me, I am sure of that.

Found myself weeping after reading "My Grandfather's Journey" by Allen Say yesterday morning.

It's an amazingly beautiful book. It talks about being bi-cultural and living in two worlds, two different cultures. My favorite sentence from the story: "The funny thing is, the moment I am in one country, I am homesick for the other." Something about my strange post-breakup mood, the cold weather, and the beautiful text and illustrations of the book conspired against me.

I was just weeping like a baby at the bus stop, my eyeglasses fogging up as the colors of the red and purple sky in front of me bled together in a tear-blurred mess.

I covered my red face and blood-shot eyes with my scarf, while strangers walked quietly past. Couldn't help but make a little noise. Nobody noticed, I don't think. If they did, they probably would've thought I was crazy.

All in all, it was a healthy cry. I obviously needed to do it -- it just exploded so quickly that I didn't see it coming.

Better head off for bed.

Friday, January 04, 2002

suburban sightings

A wedding photo, bride blushing.

It's torn up into tiny pieces no bigger than stamps. The ragged edges are a stark white compared to the bride's swarthy latina complexion.

I keep seeing things and thinking that they're signs. But what kind of signs are they?

Walking to the bus stop this morning, I spot a matchbook perched atop a front porchstep. It's one of those fold-over paper matchbooks from a local bar.

Every match is torn from it except for the very last one, jutting out like a rusty nail. The match is dark brown with a cherry red tip, and is sticking nearly straight up at an awkward angle, jauntily.

What's the story behind this random sidewalk clutter? Is the ground beneath my feet speaking in secret signals? What foreign grammar is invested in the torn bits of photograph? What memories were being purposefully, concretely deleted from somebody's mind? Who was that bride? Is this an urban archeology of loss? Mourning? Triumph? What could it mean?

The matchbook is something I might not have ever noticed by itself. But when mentally junxtaposed with the photo confetti, I have to wonder.

The matchbook is a symbol for independence? Lonesomeness? Stoicism? The last man standing? The Japanese legend of the Ronin? A modern day parable, written in the words of street garbage?

So many questions.

They all pop up from the detritus among us. But who is there to see it, really, besides me?

And how do I work these subtle suburban clues to the human condition into my tapestry of knowledge?

Maybe the refuse is just part of the natural scheme of things. The scraps of photo won't just sit there. Nope.

They will soon toss about in the nettlesome northeastern winds, spread out and come to rest somewhere far away, never to come together again. The pieces will never converge into a whole again... the orderly chaos of nature.

"Nature refuses to rest," John Updike reminds us. When he saw falling snow, Updike noted that "the transient sparkles seemed for a microsecond engraved upon the air."

Just like that snow, the solitary match might sparkle for a mere moment before it burns out. Or, if rain or snow visits it, it won't ever see a spark. It will just degrade and depart from view.

Thursday, January 03, 2002

goodbye, 2001

The new year started off strangely.

On Jan. 31st, I just assumed that Steven and I were going to spend some time together. I was right. He called up and offered to take me to the store.

The massive grocery store in Greenbelt awaited us. And so did the crowds. Steven had some last-minute shopping for his post-New Year's homeland potluck soiree brunch. The lines were 8 and 9 people long. Good thing we went together, or else it would've felt like forever.

We went back to his place and he took care of some cleaning. I helped out, doing some light housework, while I did my laundry.

I mentioned to him that I didn't have any plans for the evening and I didn't really feel like spending New Year's Eve alone in a far-off city with no friends to be with. But he shrugged it off and said that he wanted some time alone with his friend who was in from out of town.

So I was without a date.

After Steven's "let's just be friends" speech, I figured that the friendly thing for him to do was invite me out for the evening. I guess he thought otherwise.

I just spent the evening making pasta romano with cheese. It turned out really well. And there was a little red wine left over from the night before. Thank goodness Emily gave me a call, otherwise, it would've just been me and Dick Clark on TV.