Yikes!

The boss is on the phone with his credit card company trying to
problem solve why a charge is not going through. Suddenly, out of
nowhere at the top of his lungs he screamed out, "GoooooooD DAMMMMIT -
DON'T! GIVE ME! THIS! SHIIIIIT!!!!"
Scared the poop right out of me! I'm shaking!!!

Mind Stream

You know what's weird? When I walk to work, my feet slide around
inside my shoes but sometimes, by the end of the day after working at
my desk, I can't squeeze them back in! What tha? What would cause
that?

Today it's 97% humidty here. I am strongly opposed to this. Please
make it stop. Or turn on the giant A/C in the sky. Something. My
sticky face is sprouting a garden of zits.

I made it to work by the 12:00 goal time after walking leisurely,
stopping to deposit my meager paycheck and then applying for personal
loan for my next stop at Starbucks. My Espresso Frappachino and rice
krispy treat left me a whopping 44 cents from the $8 in my hungry
wallet. And why DO I feel so much more compelled to tip there than
any other place on the planet? Some sort of nefarious subliminal
programming inside the funky feel-good music? I don't know, but
SOMETHIN's going on. That's for sure. I fought the power and kept my
damm 44cent today. Shiat. Screw that. Girl's gotta save, ya know?
That could be a future Rice Krispy Treat down payment!

I beat the boss in. Yes! Alone time for Stevie! (Wonder, that is.)
He's my man and makes everything allright.

oops. phone.

Back. Bossman's brother-in-law from "The Cape." Cape cod? The
boss said Cape Cod (is that how you spell it?) is a very popular
vacation site. And exclusive. Apparently no rift-raft to bother the
rich people? He laughed at me when I told him I wasn't familiar with
the place or where it was.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Just hilarious!

Pft.

Last night I had a dream that my parents and brother were mocking me
and wouldn't stop laughing. I was outraged! Furious! Hurt! I
demanded that they stop which incited even greater bursts of laughter
at my foolishness. When I woke up I was still shaken. What does it
mean? I felt terribly hurt and misunderstood. Ganged up on. Well,
actually - I often did feel ganged up on growing up - my family united
against me. But, why am I dreaming about that now, I wonder?

Actually, the bossman is frequently condescending. But, I've
discovered through old emails sent by past (female) clients similar
complaints which affirms and reminds me what I ought to be focusing on
anyway - not taking it personally. I find it to be a good challenge
and tool to work on grounding myself. Otherwise, he seems to be a
very nice man. Friendly, but prone to outbursts. His regular
reference to his marital problems keeps me alert to future
inappropiate boundary violations - but so far - no sign of such.
Past experiences inform me to remain hyper aware. Beware of
middleaged married men - I've found them to be a highly unstable lot.

He should be in any time and I will quickly click "send" and log-out
without editing most likely. This is a free-for-all post - because
what the heck. Why not.

I could barely stay awake on the hour long subway ride this morning.
I think I took about 20 2-minute naps in between stops. When the
train screeched to each stop I sort of jolted awake and pulled my
heavy lids up for a blurried half-hearted effort to stay awake.
Something about the motion lulls me to sleep like a baby. It's as
mezmerizing as a Starbucks tip jar. I try to keep my bag on my lap
and let my arms fall on top - just in case some fellow passenger is
interested in relieving me of my .44 cent filled wallet I'll wake up
when they strike - but shit - when i think about it - more power to
them! There's more spare change where that came from. Sometimes
people will walk onto your crowded car, clear their throats and begin
in what sounds like a stage voice a well-rehearsed begging
presentation detailing their destitute background and conditions all
leading to a request for money. What I've observed so far is that
they are almost completely ignored. Including by myself. Which feels
funny. Why? I don't wanna be a sucker? I don't want to stick out?
(I'm advised by my brother that its very important to not stick out
in NY or you become a target. I've been perfected me
mean-don't-fuck-with-me-i'll-fuck-you-up-cuz-i-don't-give-a shit
face.) We assume it's a sham, (I assume.) And if its not? What
if we knew it was true and continued to ignore it? I wonder what
it's like to be homeless in NYC.

Should I start work now?

All day I think of things I want to blog about. And then every night
when I'm able to sit and blog I'm blank.

I wouldn't mind getting one of those nifty keypad things like Seakitty
has to post from my phone. What a cooooool invention.

I've been reading Qi Gong and Buddhist literature on the ride lately.
I want to get grounded. I need to refocus. I need to be a better
person. I haven't like myself lately. I've been to self-centered.
Too emotional. Too filled with needs when really what feels good in
my being is giving. That's when I feel most right about being in the
world. That's when I feel the least anxiety and fear - when I am
focused on being fully "there" for other people. Loving. And
virtuous. This might be a slightly more challenging endeavor in New
York City. But conversely, perhaps especially rewarding.

There are these awesome drummers that have twice entered the train
which I was commuting in. In a flurry, they entered, unfolded their
plasic chairs, positioned their large instruments before them and
exploded into a full-scale thundering, racous rythym. Undeterred by
the lack of acknowledgment of straight-faced commuters, their taped
fingers pounded out the syncopated funk without abandon. The beats
rippled through me and made we want to jump up and hoot! Instead, I
too sat - gaze steadily fixed between two fellow sheep at my
reflection in the blackened window.

This time when they passed the hat, performer-prophetHe comforted,
"Don't worry if you're afraid to smile. It's ok." He asked us not
sacrifice our essential selves to world of computers. He advised us
to be human - that it was important.

It was such a good point I was moved to contribute something. As they
walked down the aisle of the masses, I fretted and debated - should I
reach into my African weaved bag and make an offering? But I only
have change? But that doesn't matter? It would be a gesture from the
heart. And isn't that the point? When he passed me still
prophesizing and chatting on, I made not motion, frozen in indecision.
Next time - I told myself. This time I'll have to settle for sending
good energy. That's what I can do for now - and so I won't berate
myself. Little steps. Imperceptible to others, but you know when
something shifts internally. You know. And I think that's what
counts.

I'm want to be as nice to myself as I want to be to others. I think
that will further my compassion.

Uhoh.. Gotta fax something... I don't know what the guy on the phone
was talking about... Duty calls....

True Story

A Florida lady did her shopping and, upon returning to her car, found four males in the act of leaving with her vehicle.

She dropped her shopping bags and drew her handgun, proceeding to scream at the top of her voice, "I have a gun, and I know how to use it! Get out of the car!" The four men didn't wait for a second invitation. They got out and ran like mad. The lady, somewhat shaken, then proceeded to load her shopping bags into the back of the car and got into driver's seat. She was so shaken that when she got her key into the ignition. She tried and tried, and the key wouldn't turn, then it dawned on her why.

A few minutes later, she found her own car parked four of five spaces farther down. She loaded her bags into the car and drove to the police station. The sergeant to whom she told the story couldn't stop laughing.

He pointed to the other end of the counter, where four pale men were reporting a car jacking by a mad, elderly woman described as white, less than five feet tall, glasses, curly white hair, and carrying a large handgun.

No charges were filed...

Dammed Spam

I got 4 bogus spam-comments in the last day. What's up with that? Seems like alot all at once.

I wonder..... If Seakitty had a pet, would it have whiskers and fins?

Do you look like you're pet?

How about these guys?

We must be the change we wish to see in the world
~Mahatma Gandhi

Introducing Chilly!

My new doggie.



She's a weiner.


And she poops alot.

I don't care.

I didn't get here (work) until 4:00pm because I spent 2 1/2 hours
looking for The Cutie's Mom's workplace to drop off the cell phone she
left in our (The Cutie's) car on the way to Virgina. I normally would
try to enjoy myself even if I am lost - discovering new places and
things - exploring New York's chinatown, but I didn't really. I don't
know why. The heat? The sore legs and feet? The hunger? A
pressing need to pee? I doubt it. Worried about getting to work too
late? Please. The bossman here could care less what time I come it.
But just to allay my raising anxiety level, I called to check in.
And guess what, he could care less. So why the escalated anxiety
level? What was my problem? I have a fear of turning into another
highstrung nasty NY stressball. I fear losing me. The original me -
the one that was happy and cheerful and kind.

The bossman has gone home. As soon as he left at 6 I began to surf
blogs and still can't seem to reel myself back in. It's 7pm and I
need to stay to 8 to make the required 4 hours of work a day but I
CAN'T MAKE MYSELF CARE ENOUGH TO WORK.

Confessional: I'm contemplating leaving early. But that's wrong. I
would feel awful.

I guess I could just make up an hour tomorrow or something.

God.

Where is ability to motivate myself?

Quietly Desparate

I got creative and tracked down my friend through a google search of her job this afternoon. I simply dialed and in an instant there she was! She sounded funny. "What's wrong?" I asked. She apologized for not calling but said she's been going through alot. I swallowed hard. With a long history of depression, her life hasn't been easy, and I'm used to that, but this time something was different. There was more. My fear was realized when in the next breath she revealed that
her sister had killed herself. It was a shock to everyone that knew her. There was no note. There were no clues. There was no indication at all with the exception of her plastic smile and
perfectly spotless home. She simply cleaned her home from top to bottom, prepared a week's worth of food for her husband and two small children, brought a photo album to the garage, started her engine and sat for hours while the life slowly drained out of her - leaving her body to be discovered by her horrified family who'd just returned from a fun day at the park. (I wonder if a lifetime of therapy will ever heal the 4 and 6 year old sons?)

My friend believes she'd just had enough of life. I just don't understand it. It makes me mad. How can she do that to everyone! To my friend! She didn't even ask for help! Why didn't she ask for help! Why didn't she tell someone! Something! Anything! She had a large circle of friends - including 5 best friends that she saw every weekend. She had plans to do something with them the next day.

Didn't ANYONE notice something was wrong?

Her husband didn't know she was sad. He didn't know she'd recently seen a pyschologist. He didn't know she'd started anti-depressants. He didn't know that she'd begun a beading hobby or
where she kept her books.

Apparently, he didn't know her at all.

I guess no one did. It seems my friend was the only person in the world whom she'd trusted to share that despite appearance, she didn't in fact have a "perfect life." All of her friends wanted to be just like her. Fancy things, rich husband, big house and children. But apparently it was all a lie. An illusion. She was living in a bubble. What people saw - verses what really was. Inside- the darkness, the sadness, the loneliness and alienation of being trapped inside the illusion of her own making - an inability to reach out and puncture her own self-constructed myth.

My god. What a tragedy. There were hundreds of people at her funeral. Hundreds. All of those people, and not one of them had a clue. My friend blames herself. What can I do to ease that sort of burden?

Unreal.

Crazy.

She can't believe she's gone. How can she really be gone? Like, forever?

It's a reminder to me to read between the lines. Listen to what's not being said as much as what is being said. And just because someone isn't demonstratively "in crisis" or calling great attention to their needs, it doesn't necesarily mean that they don't have them - that they don't need help - care - that they aren't in pain so great that it seems the only relief will come from the termination of life itself.

Be attentive to the people you love. Andeven to the people you might barely know. Maybe especially them. You never know who might need you. I know there have been times in my life where I have been so isolated and sad that a simple word of concern from a stranger would have been a godsend.

Stay or Go

I still haven't done shit.

Should I just go home?

My head is however beginning to clear. I may even be able to think
again soon. Standby. It could happen.

Meanwhile, what am I doing? Sweating, sitting, sweating, trying to
use the internet without the DSL crashing, (unsucessfully), sweating,
and feeling bloated.

Having fun!

Maybe I should just go home.

This is silly.

I'll send these checks (to vendors) I guess, and scatattle. Maybe
I'll leave a note and ask him to for an airconditioner?

Well, instead of working, I've been cutting my nails down to nubs and
catching them as the crumbling agriculture projectiles shoot across the
room. I'm still discombobulated, but better. However, now I'm
miserably hot, and therefore continue to neglect the to begin the
official work-thing. Sure wish this guy would splurge on a
de-sweating contraption, otherwise known as airconditioning.
Honestly, baking in a 90+ degree office on a summer New York day is
like, cruel and unusual punishment. Don't you think? South Virgina
was HORRIFICALLY nasty too actually. How do people survive it?
Guess I'm a wuss. It's not like the cold where you can just layer up.
When it's hot, you sweat, and your clothes stick to you, and then you
stink, and if you're me, your face gets nasty oily and red and blotchy
and then you break out in thousands of grody mini-bump/zit things all
of over your face. One word.

E W.

And I think I'm gonna bleed. That could be draining too. I've been
monitoring for a few months now, and it appears for days afterwards I
can barely drag myself from bed and my mind becomes fuzz. A week
prior I seem to be ravenous. And crave sugar like a beast. Bodies
are fascinating things. I really should pay more attention to it. It
has so much to teach.

What are you up to?

Are you going to watch "6 feet Under" tonight on HBO? I think it's
the final episode(?) The Cutie introduced me to the series this year
and we now watch it faithfully together each week as one of "our
shows." (Our special time snuggled on the couch.) I've found it
thoroughly engaging and wonderfully creative and am so terribly
disappointed to see it end. What a shame!

We've also been watching: (because I know you're dying to know)
Entourage
Rescue Me
Monk
The Comeback
Def Poetry (w/ Mos Def)
The O.C.
One Tree Hill
Smallville
Star Trek in the mornings
Roswell on DVD's
Realty shows: Dawg the Bounty Hunter, Family Bonds, Gotti
and lots of the Comedy channel: Mad TV, King of the Hill, that
cartoon with Stewy the dog...

Does that sound like a lot? It looks like a lot to me now that I've
typed it. Not that I really care. It's fun and I've really enjoyed
it. It's something we can share.

I love to see The Cutie happy.

It makes me happy.

oh my gosh. i am so
freakin
tired.
(or something?)
i think tired?
my mind feels like molasses.
my body like expired taffy.
i grabbed a tasty mango smoothy and curry salad on the way to work in
hopes that i was simply in need of nutrition and would perk right up
after a fast paced jaunt from the subway.
no such luck.
how can i work when my body is still asleep?
WAKE UP!
WAKE UP ALREADY!
i absolutely detest this feeling. this sluggishness is familiar. and
worrisome. lucky no one else is here to witness it.
unproductiveness makes me feel guilty. bad about myself.

We didnt get much sleep (or i didn't) over the weekend. we visited
The Cuties vivacious family in Virgina! It was soo sooo soooo fun...
I absolutely loved spending time with them and getting to be a part of
their crazy fun loving antics. Went to sleep late and Doggie woke
me early. (ie:5am) !
She had a great time chasing her 2 doggie cousins around the big
house. It was a 3 day party!

Catcalls and Phonebooks

I feel a little lonely in the office today. And bored. And highly
resistant to productivity. Or effort. I feel like eating candy
without reason. Why? I'm full! I would to find some sort of eating
disorder aftercare support group or something. I've been having
challenges. I fear I'm forgetting my tools. I could use a little
help. I don't want to slip back into bad habits and ways.

On the long walk from the subway station to and from work, guys be
whistlin at me like everyday. Or exclaiming. Or making googoo
eyes. (On the rare occcasion that I raise my gaze from the
sidewalk.) What is this about? It's delightfully gross.
Disgustingly exciting. Does it make me cute? Or simply female.
Still 60 pounds above my ideal weight and bewildered, I asked The
Cutie. He said probably the latter. Stangely dissapointed, I
secretively cling to fantastical theories of mesmerizing unsuspecting
bystanders with my dazzling, radiant beauty. Maybe I should take on
the roll of Sexy Siren anyway! Be happy with myself NOW and not only
upon physical shrinkage. Not just satisfed, but CELEBRANT! I'm a
fattie hear me roar - check these hips and start to soar! Women need
it - to love themselves despite petty media images. To witness other
women who carry themselves gracefully and with pride, and provide an
alternative glimpse into the possibilites of a divergent reality
where we are unobsessed with size.

Damm right.

Anyway.

I've been purging my cell phonebook of outdated numbers. I started
after having scrolled through sitting on the train, looking for
someone to call. You know, just to say

"Hi."

To see how they are.. To remind them that I cared.

But after whittling away coworkers, ex's and casual acquaintances,
I've found there aren't too many people left - relatives/friends of
The Cuties, my folks, a landlord in Hawaii that I want to give money
to some day when I have it, my brother and my 3 friends. "Best"
friends whom I haven't spoken with in over a year. Best friends whom
I haven't emailed.

And so I called.

Finally.

Life passes you so quickly. You neglect the people you love most and
before you know it, it's too late. Things have changed or they are
gone. What does it mean to have a friendship? Is that state of
being that always exists: irrespective of interaction? Or should it
be a verb, like "love" that is what you do and how you act as opposed
to merely a feeling. How much friendship do you need to sustain you?
How much is required to propel a healthy relationship forward?
Would you recongnize the signs of inattentiveness if they were
surrounded you?

All three numbers were disconnected.

After multiple unanswered desparate emails to find them, I am crushed.
Scenarios run through my mind involving years of internet people
searchs and countless cold calls to state after state where I tensely
dial and strain to hear a familar voice - one which resembles the long
lost friend I don't deserve to find. "Hi, My name is Indigo Blue
and I'm trying to reach Jbean R. Foolaso?"

These are the signs. These are the signs I've been remiss. I've done
something wrong. Or should I say, I've done nothing which IS doing
something wrong.

Don't neglect the people you love. Don't let them fall by the wayside
in deference to your "busy life" or unbusy, or distracted, or
unmotivated, as the case may be. No matter how good your intentions
are, life rolls on, and over you if you're not careful.

Afterall, what do we have without loved ones around us?

Roasting

Sweating like Niagara falls on this godforsaken 300 degree day, I've
been trying to appear as invisible and preoccupied as possible while
The Boss pitches to a potential new client across the unairconditioned
office. The banter makes me nervous. The Boss makes me nervous. The
concept of working (with people) makes me nervous. Why do I feel so
childlike so often? Awkward. Silly in these pretentious black boots
I can barely walk in and so wobble noisely back and forth before them
retrieving documents for their whims. Playing make believe.
Employee. "Adult". I used to be so good at "Faking it Till I Made
it!" I believed it myself! And then there are times seemingly from
no where where I suddenly am imbued with an overwhelming sense of
confidance. "There's nothing wrong with me! I'm fine! I'm as smart
or capable as anyone else walking on this planet!" And I can look
people in the eyes and inadvertanly add a hint of swing in my hips.
"I'm just a little more timid is all. Who cares!?" Ok, alot more
- but surely I can grow out of it! ? Like my little doggie
learning to potty in the grass, I'll acclimate and learn to negotiate
this looming city. I'm taking the subway already! I mean, its not
like I've always been like this - right?..... I was GIFTED, they
used to say. I could do anything, my 6th grade teacher gushed. The
"ideal Evergreen student" my professor lavished upon me. Did that
change? When Who am I now? A fumbling bumbling peon? Hard pressed
to adequatly complete the simplest menial tasks? Or a brilliant bud
dormant with boundless untapped potential. Sleeping or dead.
Fireworks or fizzle. When do I figure these things out?

Coooooool

It WORKED!

It's on!

Prepare for postage!!!!

TEST TEST TEST...

I just remembered this nifty feature where you can post remotely through your email.  Will this post work?  If so it will open up great possibilites for sneaking in posts while at work!!!  This is an exciting prospect!  I have things to say! I do!

Another Cutie in the House

Guess what! The (original) Cutie surprised me with a cute little 5 month old daschund doggie!
We named her "Chilly." I can't get over how good natured she is -
she'll come right up to you and just plop down on your lap. I guess she had a good
breeder? Or came from a good line? I dont know but i really feel like we lucked out. She's such a cutie!

I'll post pictures in a few days when we get The Cutie's computer back from the shop.

Arg, I can't type much more now because of these long cumbersome claws fingernails. (The Cutie bought them for my job interview.) They're pretty, but boy do they make typing a serious chore!

But - I started a new job in the City.... It's partime and not a big deal - but I'm thrilled to be earning some dinero.

More soon... (Just as soon as I find that nail file.)