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I am...a New Yorker
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Thursday, March 28, 2002
Collapsng, Reboundng, Collapsng Once More
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Photographing...
Nothing lately. I haven't much had the will, and I thought my camera was broken.

Eating...
The requisite Chinese delivery with Robbie -- our Thursday night tradition. My fortunes are oddly fittng, like tonight's:
"Be satisfied with one chapter at a time."

Quoting...
One of my Nerve matches: "a cute boy in nerdy glasses is sexy; a cute boy in nothng but nerdy glasses is sexier."

"I pant self portraits because I am so often alone. "
-Freida Kahlo

Singing...
"Just one look...and I felt so high, ahhhhhh..."

Satisfyng...
Discussing the Steinbeck celebration with Blanepear and having a glimmer of my previous intelligence in the middle of the work day.

Unsettling...
My boss interrupting the above conversation. The nerve of him -- wanting me to do work when I could be talkng with Bp!

Titilating...
Blanepear teasing me about my web site. If only he knew...

Lusting...
Well, duh!

Wondering...
Where I can find a pouka shell necklace for Blanepear, to complete the Sean Cassidy look.

Realizing...
If it's going to work out differently, it naturally must be different throughout.

I am...not myself lately. I cut back my hours at work dramatically, though I haven't been consistent enough n taking lunch breaks, but still my energy is at a very low ebb.

I'm smack n the middle of a bad case of the blahs. That's part of why I haven't been updating. I'm feeling pretty ambivalent about my sites and haven't had much to write about. Life is the same, I continue to putter along and get nowhere. I'm not writing, reading, or doing much of anything.

That's not entirely true. I did go to a 50th anniversary reading from Invisible Man last Monday and to a centennial celebration of John Steinbeck last Tuesday in Lincoln Center. I was so delighted that Dorothy Allison was one of the readers. I also got to see Arthur Miller for the second time this winter -- he connected current events with the McCarthy hearngs.

That remnds me, I saw a reporter on the news the other day asking theatergoers how they thought they theme of The Crucible compared to current events. One woman replied that it wasn't the same, because witchcraft is much more accepted now.

It's not about witchcraft, dummy.

. . .

People have been writing me more since I stopped updating. Ironic, isn't it? I didn't figure anyone would notice, except the 2 or 3 regular readers I knew about, my friend Jennifer and perhaps my co-worker who says it's like a soap opera and he feels like I am this celebrity in their midst at work. That's another reason not to update. Initially, he couldn't look at me, knowing all too much about Blanepear, without grininng like a big goofball. This would send the two of us into hysterics. I thought for sure he was going to blow my cover even before I had a chance to do so.

The real danger is that now my boss has figured it out. He actually kept teasing me about it, saying Blanepear's name. Classic junior high anxiety came rushing back to me. It was so indiscreet, I was astounded. The way his office is set up, he can't tell who is coming near and Blanepear or who knows who could easily have heard from far down the hall. After a couple of times, I shut his door and said, "Blah blah blah," so someone walking by couldn't hear him sayng, "Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaine!" except usng Bp's actual, beautiful name.

It wasn't awkward enough before, now I need my coworker and my boss to spill the beans.

. . .

Last week was the board meeting which takes place every other month. It sure seems like more than that, like every time I turn around there is another meeting I need to prepare materials, a book and a presentation for. Actually, most of them are off my shoulders now, when my boss realized if it wasn't possible for two people to keep up with all the meetngs, it certainly wasn't possible for one person!

What I really like is the week before the meeting, because that's when I put together the board book and mail it to the board members. I like this for several reasons -- it reminds me of the deadline ecstasy from my days on the newspaper in college, it's an entire day filled with mindless work which frees me to think my own thoughts during the work day, and I get to work with Blainepear for most of the day.

I genuinely appreciate Blainepear's help on projects like these because he always does things right the first time. Whenever I feel like I should ask someone else, to spread the work around more, I end up callng him in to clean it all up. Netra said she thinks most people do a shitty job to avoid being asked agan. Highly likely.

He's also very cooperative. He doesn't complain. He hates to make mistakes. He likes to listen to classical music when doing projects.

We took a break while doing the board book, needing to wait for my boss to approve the last couple of sections, and sat on opposite sides of the conference room. We sat in silence for a bit, looking at each other, looking away. He asked if one side of his face was longer than the other. I'll be damned, but it is. One side is more square. So his whole face is a bit lopsided. Then he asked if his cheeks were level or not (not), then his eyes. "Are they like Shannen Doherty's eyes?" I had to giggle at that.

Like I needed excuses to stare at his face! I told him he should just get over it, his face was fine. I went on to say that he could have a short arm, like a woman in my buildng.

"Must make it really hard to type," he said.

He is so wrong!

. . .

I order an especially good dinner for board meetngs, with real plates and silverware (unlike the plastic we have for staff meetngs). Last time the main courses were chicken parmesean and salmon. I offered to make a plate for Bp, a small thanks for all his help. He was so appreciative. When I came back with the plate, he just grinned and grinned. So many of my interactions with the staff are negative, I appreciate the comraderie and cooperation with Blanepear all the more.

. . .

Then there are the emails. His are always amusingly nonsensical. The first one was written as if it was a letter home from a kid who was miserable at camp. I am so literal, it's hard for me to follow.

He continues to be hot and cold. One day I feel so connected, like we're transcending the mundane world around us. The next, I feel completely pushed away -- like I'm bothering him. What is this? I thought I'd never feel so confused agan.

. . .

I wrote this to someone recently:

I am not much for bars, clubs, fads or the like. I'm happiest lost in conversation with a good friend, with my head in a book, writing with abandon or wandering the streets (or the park) aimlessly. I'd much rather be alone than with someone I don't like/trust/understand fully, though I wouldn't call myself a misanthorpe with any sincerity.

Yet, a misanthrope I remain.

[Next entry: "Back n the Big Easy"]
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