Essentials

Happy April One, people. And I really mean it - it's happy. The last two weeks have been quite filled with satisfaction for me and I can only hope the numbers continue to rise in that respect. I could attempt a recapture yet I feel as though I won't do particular moments justice, moments as they relate to a specific person I happened upon in the cloud of life's mystery (it stays in my brain) or as they relate to other specific people who have essentially poured more life meaning over me in the past handful of days than for which I could have ever asked. Thank you, thank you.

Today I celebrate the first of the last sixteen days of my thirty-fourth year of life. I wish I could say these are just numbers, but they're not, not to me, not today. Maybe approaching forty-four I will re-read this post and giggle, joke was on you, KB, numbers kinda mean not much...but for today, for the sake of the essence of who I am, numbers swell with meaning. Friends my age have children, many of them (many friends have children, not friends have many children) (uh, except, my near dear long-time coworker did inform me last Monday that his wife is carrying their number four in her belly! Super congrats to them of course but super wow, that will never be me, ha) and I suspect, from reading Facebook posts and from speaking with these friends and meeting their completely precious offspring and so on and so forth, that their own respective milestone birthdays tend to gray out in the distance because the milestones they've become concerned with relate to their children. Trust me, that is amazing, as life should be, and as the children so deserve. However, I currently am in the process of planning no bearing of children (despite my very deeply planted adoration for them - life maps itself out according to some master plan, I believe that much to be true) therefore my milestones mean the world to me and I take them seriously. Bring on the next chapter, thirty-five. Show me what you're made of, dammit.

This past week consisted of a lot of minutia memories for me to carry around in my pocket. Oh, and, by the way also...Happy National Poetry Month (speaking of pockets and poems in and what not and what have you.) (Yet another reason for me to love the fourth calendar month that is April!) (Just found out via text because I'm committed to multi-tasking that my friend Ashley's sister's birthday is also my birthday, aw, cute!)

Monday night one of my book clubs met at Vapiano, a large Italian chain eatery (I know, I know, but they're only in major metro areas, cut me some slack for caving in on the chain selection!) to discuss The Perks of Being a Wallflower. We had a nice time...talked about the book, ate decent food and drank wine...then Wednesday I traveled out to Long Island to view fabricated signage for my project and to discuss Interior Signage as it stands (not awarded yet, oh to the oh no) today. Sitting there in a dark wood conference room with Tom and Susan (the three of us make up quite the brain trust, I must say) we accomplished a ton and it felt good, getting somewhere. But around 3:30 in the afternoon they started talking about MTA and Plaza area signage which is NIC for Hunt, so I asked for a ride to the LIRR to catch the 3:51 and arrived back at Penn Station around 5 then. I love...there is something about metro urban movement via public transportation that rests like a soft petal right inside my soul. I just love it. And soft petal? Wow, watch out, Hallmark, here I come...

Anyway.

I wove through the commuters that literally create human braids in Penn Station and emerged only to realize I know where the heck I'm going all the time now. It's an extremely empowering adventure to develop and maintain an internal compass. Men must just be high on that adrenaline on a minute to minute basis. Ha.

And the plan was to meet Alicia and Jess (my two new completely favorite people on God's Green Earth, in addition to the earlier mentioned person I so happily have tucked into my mind) at Lillie's, over on 17th in Union Square. Jess is a baker and sings in a band. Alicia and I are basically cut from the exact same cloth having to do with just about mostly everything. I really adore these women.

Lillie's is fairly popular so was rather crowded but I secured us a table and Jess arrived first followed by Alicia. The thing is this: if you cannot find beautiful people, you're not looking hard enough. Because they exist. And they sometimes travel in pairs, as in this instance, although we were missing Suzanne and Cristalle, the other pivotal persons in this precious circle.

Jess and I had been texting about a personality quiz that she had been meaning to administer to Alicia for some time, and would it be okay if she brought the book to drinks? Of course, I'm never one to turn down really anything, so of course, I texted her, bring the quiz.

We shared stories for a while and drank wine and ordered prawns and mac and cheese and then at some point Alicia and I were like, Jess, where is this test?? Jess produced a book from her bag titled The Essential Enneagram and she explained that she would read us nine paragraphs, A through I, and that we should take notes, listen carefully, and basically select three (Third Avenue photo above) that we felt best depicted us as individuals....we were then to rank the three in order of one being the very most relatable. Without going into too much complexity of how this all shook out, I wound up falling under Personality Type Four, The Romantic. Yes, there is my number four, following me around, watching over me closely.

Aside from listing what the book assigns me as the adjectives that describe my type, I won't speak to it more just at this point because I've bought the book and am slowly absorbing what it entails. But here are the adjectives to describe The Romantic:

Idealistic, deeply feeling, sensitive, empathetic, caring, intense, specialness oriented, creative disposition, authentic to self, introspective, and expressive, but also sometimes dramatic, moody, changeable, self-conscious, unsatisfied, and self-absorbed.

I cannot think to one of those adjectives that does not directly or even overly much so apply to me. So yeah.

It's getting close to noon and I must go to the grocery for Spinach Black Bean Lasagna ingredients because today I am celebrating April One by throwing a potluck with friends followed by seeing Wild Flag (former Sleater-Kinney band members' new band) with Alicia at Webster Hall.

Last night, I forged my way back into Williamsburg after spending a great day bragging about Hunt to engineering students up at Columbia University. Alicia and I met for bites and wine on Third Ave before heading to the L train to Bedford Ave, and there, right off the train, Spike Hill, bands, vodka, karaoke, George, Steve, and everyone AND I MEAN EVERYONE in Williamsburg who spotted my cat shoes (shoes with cat detail on them, so freaking cute) could not stop talking about them, stopped me, begged me Can I take a photo? Ha. Oh, Williamsburg. You are so tender.

Maybe I will try to write here once a day leading up to thirty-five. Maybe I will fail at that which is completely fine and acceptable because I do have a lot happening this coming week. But the thing is this. I'm finding footing somehow. It's taking great grinding of the heels into the ground but it's happening and it's ongoing and it feels like the me I'm becoming is just as regular and flawed and scathed and jaded and smiling and sobbing as the one seated next to me on the train.

We're in it. It's in us.