Well, it's Tuesday of my solo week and thus far I've accomplished very little. But I'm refusing to be hard on myself and tonight is a brand new night of accomplishment potential. Plus, Craig was very sweet yesterday and texted me multiple times to remind me that I'm not entirely alone! I wound up running into my neighbor friend and she and I had a glass of wine in my apartment, watching Jon and Kate (oh, the horror) and being giddy girls. So that was a nice distraction and occupied some of my time. Today was particularly exaggeratedly long and annoying, and as we move ahead with packing the office, I fear that a Saturday mandatory pack-the-office-day may arise. It looks like we're about a quarter of the way there (not good, considering we are out of there 09/30). And while we do this, pack boxes, copy documents, archive paperwork and so forth, I'm feeling my edgy fear of change coming on. In patterns since I've moved around, I initially do not fare well for, well, let's say the first handful of months of transition. I becoming increasingly scared, panicked, annoyed, unsure and oftentimes those feelings damage parts of me that I'm not sure are temporary or permanent damages (many permanent, I suspect.) I'm not going to
not take blame for this, because I am a human same as anyone else and am presumably reasonably capable of taking matters into my own hands. However, inevitably, change lies ahead, and soon. I am insisting to co-workers how fantastic it will be for me (us) to get out of that office, rid ourselves of all of the poison it contains: the haunting tensions, the inconsistencies and so forth - but somewhere inside I'm actually a little nervous. It's been since February 2007 that we've been commuting to the same office, with the (mostly) same staff of people with our softnesses toward one another, our agreed upon hostilities, our comfortable levels of a blend of compromise and refusals to change our ways. It's grown to
work, somehow. And this marks the longest that I've worked on any job, in near ten years with the same company. Strange to actually reflect on that fact. So, here we go, about to embark on what I'd call a smaller change, since we're merely transitioning our project into Manhattan from Queens. And yes, my commute will be nothing short of brilliant! Two subway stops, and I'm at the Met Life Building. This will be similar to traveling to work in 2006 prior to moving out to the job site. But back then, I was undergoing that initial transition fear, and compound that with the fact that it was not just any change, but New York City change! We're talking about a community that takes itself tremendously seriously, and if you're going to penetrate that from the outside, be prepared for them to fully accept you, but fully accept you with the mutual understood agreement that you, coming into their community, will adapt, and adapt quickly! Not conform, just adapt. I would have to read back on old posts to weigh in on whether or not I adapted quickly. Nevertheless, I eventually did, and I feel adapted enough now that maybe working in a corporate environment - a New York corporate environment, at that - will just seem regular to me and this smaller change won't disrupt any blood flow to my brain. Or, derail it, what have you.*So, now that that's out of the way, Patrick Swayze has passed from his battle with cancer. On my way to work this morning I read the NY Times article about him and felt taken aback at how much that man accomplished in his lifetime. I
knew of things he'd done, aside from being my "boyfriend," my ideal pin-up male, in
Dirty Dancing (which kind of creeps me out today thinking of how much older he is than me and that at the time
Dirty Dancing was a craze, I should not have had pin-up boyfriend fantasies! I blame Prince) but I suppose seeing it in list form, highlighting the diversity of his career, the depth from which he performed, impressed me. So then my co-worker sent me an article today about Neil Patrick Harris. Man! What a life that guy has led, and he's only 36. And likable as all get out. It's of course incorrect in my mind to hypothesize that he is a "break out," rather the "first" break out gay actor, or whatever since my paraphrasing and/or memory may or may not be spot on, because that could be debated on many counts. But there is certainly no denying that his masculinity and presence on screen (and I guess, on stage; I've yet to witness that myself) and demeanor are attractive to both men and women. And that's a versatility that I think is rare (well, except that I think Adam Lambert is hot)(okay, and Portia di Rossi)(okay, so not so rare). With him, it seems natural, like a real life personality trait. But aside from all of the sexuality mentions, the things he's done! The people he's touched! Rising above and beyond what Doogie, M.D. did for people of my generation (well, who watched, anyway.) Craig and I saw
Proof a long, long time ago, here in New York City (as tourists) with Anne Heche, and Neil Patrick Harris was supposed to be her opposite but was out with a traveling tour or something. Drats!*Moving on, I had contemplated a night out with myself for sushi and wine. But Europe and other expenses nagged at me that that would not be a wise move. So I postpone my sushi date with myself to Thursday, tentatively (because by Thursday we'd be out to dinner, anyway, traditionally, and I can even convince myself further by reminding myself that it will be 1, not 2 orders of scrumptious tender sushi, therefore like getting half off??) and tonight I make a most terrific, easy and more healthful version of Macaroni and Cheese that I discovered on
Cooking Light's website last week. It's simple but perfectly satisfies that craving for the comfort food many of us know and love. Craig is out to dinner with our ancient friend Timmy tonight, and this will mark night #2 of me steering clear of the phone so that I don't bug/call/text/whine/boo hoo him. It worked well last night, and while the distraction of a neighbor friend did help, I was happy to wake up this morning knowing that I let Craig have his time to be Craig. I'm terrible at that. I'm working on bettering it. He's not from Indianapolis, but he did live there for a while and his friends are all there and his sister Kara and her family, so in ways, it's "home" for him. He often reflects that he wonders if things would be better if we just moved there. I debate the topic with myself, as well, despite my furious feverish passion for New York City.*It is quiet here, in my apartment (I am refraining from music while I type, just to keep focus on one thing at a time) but it's reflective time, it's KB time, it's nice time. If I were trying to post while CB were here, fragments of television conversation might leak into my post. Quiet time: nice time.
Not doctored in PS or Lightroom, this is an anonymous building I snapped back when based solely on that the color of the tagging matched the color of the sky, hence, the raw image. And, I am practically obsessed with fire escapes (and fire doors, but that is only because of Ani DiFranco, which, to this day, I'm not sure why she "opened a fire door to four lips, none of which were mine kissing"...who opens fire doors? Did she mean a hallway door? Do I even know what a fire door is? I think I imagine it as a door to a rooftop, although I think in reality it is a door that is indestructible by fire.) (But my imagined fire door would lead to that I envision her finding her cheating lover with someone else on a rooftop. Enough on that.) (Although, Kristin Hersh also does sing about a "fire pile" so maybe I am secretly obsessed with anything preceded by 'fire'??) Slow life, these days. I have had A TREMENDOUS amount of free time on my hands, enough to almost make my hands shake at the weight of it. And what with it have I done? How have I spent it? Have I written restaurant reviews? (er, yes, but only 2). Have I penned a poem? Have I managed my photography organization? I shudder to think of the hours I've wasted on mindless information when there are so many skills that I'd like to pour out. I'd like to be able to look back on a week and say, There you go, girl, you accomplished that. Or, Hey, KB, look where being motivated landed you. But something is spinning me to boredom, and I'm just flat bored. I'm bored with the news, bored with chores, bored with pretty much just about anything I set my mind to get done. I am actively making attempts mentally to physically challenge myself to move, to do the things I know will make me feel happier once I get them done. Stepping back from paintings I created when I was in high school or college, reflecting on the effort that went into them, noticing others glance admirably at my work, it all felt so good once, like I wanted to tear down the interior walls of myself and let the sun shine on it all. As if I've never hid from anything. As if I've never been confusing for someone, too inconsolable to be understood. But in these past weeks, aside from the pathetic baby restaurant reviews, I can't say I've accomplished or completed a whole lot. Today, I was at jury duty, which means I was alone with myself a lot. We had a talk. We're approaching things differently. We're going to set a goal a day, and until I complete that goal, I won't sleep. I won't finish a day without extending myself the opportunity to be proud of myself, my achievements, my life as it rolls forward. I have a lot to give. And I should be doing so. Let's do it together, girl, you and me, we're soul mates - the ugly side and the beautiful side. We have to coexist, and once we do, we can make mountains move. Or so I'd like to believe. Today's achievement? This post. Because writing it reminded me again how disappointed in myself I've been, and how I can somehow resolve that confused girl and turn her into clarity and voice. Be someone.
