I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Pluggng away"]

Wednesday, January 23, 2002
One of the 2 Shyest People on Earth

My hat and scarf, even though they weren't necessary. I did it more for the jaunty effect.

Central Park at dusk.

Out of the office for only the second time.

Kids play with what's left of the snow.

With Bp for a snow day.

You know what I'm wonderng!

Through the Park with good company.

About this and that and not much at all.

I am...am such a wimp, it's quite sad. Today I was so behnd, from not stayng late much last week. I had Blanepear and another coworker run errands for me, because I screwed up. I had this big fantasy that we were gong to have the board book prnted by Knko's, thus savng me the time copyng, collatng and bndng the damn thng. But, alas, $1000 for 50 copies is just too steep for Non-Profit to pay, even without the tax.

So Blanepear and the other guy went to pick up legal exhibit ndexes, which we use to divide the sections of the book. I thnk, at this pont, I'm gong to campaign for a better copier. Back n the dark ages, when I worked for Chevron, there was a copier that you could put everythng you needed n at once. It did everythng but bnd (even 3 staples), so you could get a fnished product.

It even prnted to the ndex tabs and had specially coded nserts that you put n before a tab, cover, etc. It automatically nserted the correct page, prnted on the correct knd of paper. I suppose it's far beyond our budget, but thnk of what we could save without usng 10 hours and more of my time, plus a good 5 hours of Blanepear's every other month. A bitch can dream.

I fnally took a break around 4 p.m. today, havng arrived at 8 am and knowng I'd stay until at least 10 (nearly midnight, actually). Blanepear was on his way out at the same time, on his second errand for me. He asked if I wanted to come along. Like I could say no.

The weather was so lovely and mild. There were still patches of snow here and there as we cut through Central Park. It felt more like fall than wnter. Usually January is the worst month. After such a long day and with essentially another full day yet ahead, I really enjoyed the walk thoroughly, not the least of which for the company.

We told stories back and forth and talked of a great many thngs that I cannot now recall. I tried very hard to imagne him with black hair because he wants to dye it that from his natural dark brown (blondish around the edges), and asked what I thought. Another coworker had told him he'd look like a rebellious schoolboy and that wasn't the look he was gong for ("less preppy"). And so another opportunity passes.

I wanted to just reach over and hold his hand, it seemed to go with the park, the bare trees and snow.

One of us is gong to have to grow some courage n a bottle or else I'm gong to have to see the light that he doesn't see me that way. Otherwise, I might burst.

. . .

Earlier n the day, I called him up and said, "I have somethng for you."

"Is it a present?!" he asked, like a kid at Christmas.

He came right up. It was a book. The book that stayed n my head for over a year and and helped nspire my cross-country trip; I found it while lookng, unsuccessfully, for an old copy of Writer's Market this weekend. It's called Travels With Charley: In Search of America, by John Stenbeck. I'd never heard of it before I found it n a used bookstore my first fall or sprng n New York. It made me yearn to see some of the nbetween. I thnk he'd get a lot out of it.

He was appalled that I haven't read much Stenbeck, even less than he had. Not even, Of Mice and Men, just Cannery Row and maybe bits of Tortilla Flat. I flunked out of sophomore English n high school and tested out of Freshman English n college and those were the two years n the curriculum with the most readng. I flunked the high school course on prnciple -- I thought it was absurd that we had to get the defnitions memorized to the last colon and comma, rather than understandng the meanng of the words ourselves.

So, unlike Lnda and Laura, who always wore short skirts with long sweaters to conceal cheatsheets (also n their long hair), I flunked. They couldn't exactly let a gifted student get an F n English, so it was wiped from my record that I'd been enrolled. My counselor and I forgot all about it, until a few months before graduation. Dr. Ryan was knd enough to give me a series of 10th grade English equivalency tests, so I was able to graduate.

I'd forgotten all about that, until today.

[Next entry: "Movng Forward"]
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