I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "The Cheese"]

Monday, June 17, 2002
What I Yam

A co-worker on Blainepear:
"I saw what was going on. You brought color to his world. I saw how he came to life when you were there."

Well, duh!

My pants over my ass with them still zipped and buttoned up, it's really amazing. I've managed to maintain the weight loss for a few months. I figure I'll plateau for a while, then work on the next 70 pounds. That would get me back to my "fighting weight," from my Tenderloin period.

We'll see from there if I'll want to lose any more, an additional 70 after that would take me nearly down to what I weighed when I started high school, to that border between average and plus-size.

Amanueses ("secretarial slaves")
Amanuensis (that one's for Ana)
Alone (small lettering)
Corazon (Spanish for "heart")
Alma (Spanish for "soul")
Verite (French, for "truth")
Beautiful Weirdo

This last is the expression uber-ex-unboyfriend Eric used, referring to the type of guy I need to stop falling for. How can I help it, being a Beautiful Weirdo myself?

Bodily Harm by Margaret Atwood, which I started reading in late August and stopped reading on September 10th. I hadn't been able to read much since then.

Me, A Memoir, by Brenda Ueland. She's sort of fascinating, more so in what she doesn't reveal.

I am...one-faced. The greatest heartbreaks I've had in friendships and love have been because the other person/people involved was duplicitous, playing a role, pretending to be something besides who they really are.

I can't have a secret or dual life, I am who I am. There is no room in this world, it sometimes seems, for honest and imperfect -- better to look good than to feel good, dah-ling.

The real pisser now is that I'll probably end up some terribly flawed character in Blainepear's fiction. Even I must appreciate the absurd irony in that.

My former job is still hell, from what I hear. Indeed, it sounds as if there were even more meetings and events than I struggled through the past few months. Spring appears to be the big fund-raising season for Non-Profit.

My successor has been heard to say, "How did Erica do it?!" and she's begun cursing aloud now, too. She's a temp and they can't afford for her to work overtime, so she's falling even further behind than I did, with no chance of catching up. Moreover, I understand that they're keeping Blainepear so busy, he can no longer help out.

They can't fill the position, because everyone sees what a madhouse it is and they run, screaming the other direction. The new offices are finished and the new work area for my former position is not an office, but is open to the public yet again.

If I needed any confirmation that the path I'm on is the right one, I could not have heard anything better.

Looks like I escaped just in time.

[Next entry: "Considering Ludditism"]
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