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Friday, July 30, 2004

I got the job. I get to escape from the hellhole. Ok, part of me still worries that maybe my judgement has been impaired and maybe I'm walking into another hellhole, but I doubt it. I don't have that bad vibe that I had before taking this job. I don't feel like I should keep looking during the next two weeks.

I do, however, feel nervous and excited and worried that maybe I don't know anything and I'm going to be busted and found out to be a fraud. Nothing like a pervasive fear of failure to keep you on your toes.

Friday, July 23, 2004

Why do they keep having to show the pictures of the plane hitting the tower? Don't they have any respect for the fact that there were people in the plane, people in the buildings? That's Michael's plane. Do I really want to think of those final seconds before they all died in a burst of heat and light?
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story2&u=/040722/480/lr20607221921&e=7
As the mind drifts to fiction....

She cradled the receiver between her head and shoulder, listening to the sounds of quick fingers and artificial nails on a computer keyboard. Pause, resume. Pause, resume. Another pause.

“Ok, Mrs. Patterson, can you hold for just a moment while we take care of a few things on our end?”

“Please, call me Kate. And yes, I can wait.”

The hold music began, some vaguely familiar 80s tune that reminded her of middle school dances. With her careful script, she began to write on her favorite stationery, black words etched on white linen:

Dear Mark,

I know you never asked for my opinion, but after some consideration I think I should mention that your decision to find a girlfriend… well, it doesn’t really work for me. I decided to write you this note instead of speaking to you in person because I really don’t want to hear your protests, your declarations of love, your insistence that I’m just imagining things. I know, Mark. I know it all. I know that she’s number 4 on your cell phone speed dial. I know that she’s the young accountant that you invited to our Christmas party last month; the uncomfortable look on her face and your quiet discussions in the corner were all the confirmation I needed. I know that you buy her flowers twice a week from the shop around the corner from your office, and that her favorite flowers are pink lilies. And I most certainly know that your “sales meeting” in Cancun is really a long weekend with your mistress.

The 80s music stopped abruptly. “Mrs. Patterson? Kate?

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“Ok, I’ve canceled that card for you. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Kate smiled. “No, thank you, you’ve done plenty.”

“Thank you for calling Megabank. We hope to do business with you again in the future.”

She replaced the receiver and continued her letter:

As you will obviously notice before returning home, I have canceled all of our credit cards. You will no longer pay for your not-so-secret rendezvous with my cards. Let’s hope your accountant’s credit is in good enough standing to pay for your elaborate weekend accommodations.

I have changed my cell phone number, so you can feel free to program her other numbers into your speed dial if you haven’t already; I can assure you that you won’t be needing mine anymore.

I’ve taken everything that’s mine from the apartment, which basically amounts to everything with any amount of taste, since I purchased all of our furniture after realizing that your idea of interior decorating involved nothing more than that ratty old recliner and your college futon.

I’m not bitter. No, I am bitter, but I’m not vengeful. I just want what’s fair. I don’t want my money to go towards her gifts or vacations. This isn’t an unreasonable request. I’ve closed the joint bank account and I’ve left a cashier’s check for half the money on the kitchen counter. Since I’m the one who saves and you spend every penny, you shouldn’t really be entitled to any of it, but I’ll leave you with enough to rebuild, and maybe buy a half-decent sofa.

And just to put your mind at ease, because I know you worry so deeply about my feelings… I’m not the least bit sad about this. Somehow your infidelity has completely purged my memory of all of the good times, and leaves me with this clear vision of the kind of weasel you really are. I feel no guilt at walking out. You made this decision for me.

I am grateful for the fact that we have little to lose, and that you chose to do this before we had dogs, kids and a mortgage. All that we walk away from now is three years and a starter marriage. The casualties could have been much worse.
So here’s to your new life with her, and my new life without you. I’m sure it will work out beautifully for both of us.

Cheers,
Katharine

She carefully folded the letter, licked the envelope closed, and tied the letter to a bottle of champagne. With footsteps echoing on the tile floor, she walked to the entryway and carefully placed the champagne and a single glass beneath the spotlight in the hall. It would be the first thing he saw when he arrived home that night. Grabbing her coat and purse from the blue Formica countertop, she walked out the door and locked the deadbolt behind her. She made a quick stop at the manager’s office to return her apartment key, the last link to this part of her life. Outside in the crisp winter night, her breath visible in tiny clouds, she pulled on her gloves, adjusted her scarf, and headed into the night, ready to begin again.
Poll: Americans Against Using Torture
For god's sake, who would admit to being pro-torture? What the hell kind of poll is this?
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=514&e=5&u=/ap/20040723/ap_on_go_ot/torture_poll

Thursday, July 22, 2004

This breaks my heart. There's so much lying in the world. Here's this woman, happily married and pregnant, with a husband who has lied to her so boldly that they're actually planning to move to the state where he never applied to med school. This is just depressing.
http://www.cnn.com/2004/US/West/07/22/missing.jogger/index.html

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Woo-hoo! After 24 hours of panic, I am clearly not pregnant! Let's all do a little victory dance!

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

People have babies. This is nothing new. But for many years, the whole baby thing was accompanied by oohs and ahhs and marveling at how tiny they were. Now, with the birth of D&T's baby, everything has changed. Now all of a sudden it seems like the world is openly discussing things like circumcision and perineal massage. It's a brave new world.

So my neighbor opted not to circumcise her kid. I asked her exactly what was the reasoning for it vs against it. She says that the only real pro is, and I quote, "so father's can say that their kid's dick looks like theirs". Uh-huh. She claims (and I have no direct experience with this to know whether or not this is true) that uncircumcised sex is astounding. She dated at least one guy who fell into that category. Interesting. I had no idea. So she says that some day, her son will thank her for the choice. Her husband was ok with it, too. It wasn't just her call to make.

So D&T had the little guy cut. They do it without anesthesia. Ouch. No wonder he's crying so much.

Where the heck did this tradition come from, anyway?

Monday, July 19, 2004

It was one of those mornings where I couldn't get out of bed. The alarm went off and I was sound asleep for 40 more minutes until C basically booted me out of the bed. I could have slept all day. Depression sucks. I don't know how to make myself snap out of it, though. I could up my dosage, but I had hoped to go off of it eventually and I don't want to increase my dosage before that. I wish there was an easier way.

Sunday, July 18, 2004

Tonight was movie night. C wanted to see Fahrenheit 9/11. For god's sake, do I really need to see a movie that will make me angry, especially on a Sunday night where I'm filled with dread about work anyway? I think not. So I ended up talking him into seeing Anchorman. I wanted dumb comedy. I got dumb, all right, but it wasn't really worth the effort. You know how there are bad movies that are classically bad? They're so bad they're good? Well, this was just... bad. Not bad enough to be a classic.

Overall, I just wanted to go meet Connor. T didn't want us to come over. I can't say I blame her. I wouldn't want to see us, either. But somehow I was dramatically disappointed that I couldn't go see him. I need to get a life. What the hell am I so interested in seeing him for? The whole situation makes me sad, because I don't see her being very motherly and putting the real attention into him that he needs. Like I have room to talk, right?
The weekend in review:

The Sheriffs and their baby-to-be moved to San Diego.

D&T have added Connor to their family, a happy and healthy little boy, now two days old.

After Connor was born, I had a dream that I got pregnant and my belly exploded. This isn't actually just a freakish creation of my mind. I was born with an umbilical hernia, and if the surgery wasn't done properly, my abdominal muscle wall will give way under the pressure of pregnancy. And the best part is that there's no way to know if it was done right except to see what goes wrong later. Lovely.

C bought a beater Jeep.

To make me feel better about the Jeep thing, he also got around to booking my trip to the spa in Austin for the last weekend of September, my birthday gift.

I've decided that I can't live next to the crack dealers anymore and want to move. This is complicated by the fact that we can't really afford much more than what we have here, and the business is a huge black mark on my credit report, so getting a mortgage will be tough. Plus, we're really lacking the significant cash needed for a down-payment, also as a result of the business.

I think I need to increase my meds.

Friday, July 16, 2004

This story will make no sense to anyone but me, but as this is my journal and I may want to refer back to it one day, I'll write it down anyway.

Today was the Nordstrom anniversary sale. I went over to check out their selection of sale-priced workout tops. They have an awesome athletics department, but I won't pay full price. Anyway, I got a few things there (since I started working out, I've gone from small tops to large... definite gain in muscle mass), and then moved on to lingerie to see if there were any bras on sale.

Now, to share the storied history of me and bras....

I've always been... well, small would be an accurate word, although very small would probably be more accurate. I was scrawny skinny with no body fat, so what did I expect? The A cup was an elusive goal. Anyway, bra shopping was a nightmare. I would go into the fitting room with my mother and 100 bras -- padded, lined, underwire, no wire -- and try on the smallest possible size. Nothing would fit. Some of them would have so much extra space in the cups that you could pack a lunch in there. It was like the lingerie equivalent of clown shoes, comically too large. So every time there was bra shopping going on, my mother would just howl with laughter because it was just so completely ridiculous.

Well, now because of muscle tone and an increase in body fat, my situation has improved. No longer do I qualify for training bras. No, as of today's shopping excursion, I am officially the size of an ordinary small-breasted woman. Every bra I tried on fit fine. And as I stood there in the fitting room with great pride, I really missed my mother's laughter. It just wasn't the same. Oh sure, I'd look good in my clothes because I had underwear that fit properly, but there was a part of my life that was gone forever, and in the last place I'd thought I'd lost it.
And I can't get Liz Phair's "Why Can't I?" out of my head.
 
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you....
 
If I had a nickel for every time I got a song stuck in my head, I'd be able to quit my job.  The sad part is that they say it's a sign of having obsessive-compulsive tendencies.  I don't demonstrate any other signs of OCD, but the song thing is unbelievable.


2nd interview with J today.  They're moving fast, seemingly quite interested, and look like they have good potential to come in with an offer before SW gets off its ass and does anything at all.  I have a better feeling about J overall, better than SW.  Not that there's anything wrong with SW, it's just that my gut tells me that there's something not quite right there.  Could it be the five month delay in hiring?  Maybe.  But maybe it was something that was there right from the start.
 
I just don't want to be in a position where, like S, my new boss, I jump into something that looks ok on paper but works out to be a hellish nightmare of freaks....  Not that there's anything wrong with that, right?
 
The current micromanager that I'm dealing with has this knack for making me physically ill.  I swear, she opens her mouth and my body goes into fight-or-flight mode, just desperate for escape.  I have such terrible anxiety about being in her presence.  I can't trust her, and I swear that my awareness of her backstabbing and lying makes me feel like I have to constantly be on guard.  Is self-defense a good reason for quitting?

Let me get this straight: Will Smith.  Naked.  Oh.  Well, then.  Sign me up.
http://www.cnn.com/2004/SHOWBIZ/Movies/07/16/review.irobot.ap/index.html

Thursday, July 15, 2004

May I look as good as Sharon Stone when I am her age.
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story2&u=/040715/482/nyr11007151615&e=5

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

I went to the mall today in hopes of finding some new workout tops that actually fit me -- I've been trying to wear some that I've had since I started, back when I was scrawny, and that's not terribly practical. But I only found one... only one on sale, that is.

I was in the fitting room and I heard a mother and daughter cracking up over something that she'd tried on that looked ridiculous. I realized that I'd never be shopping with my mother again. She would never again make fun of me for how badly bras fit, or how short those pants are on my long legs, or just how ridiculous I look in certain things. There were times where I hated that, but suddenly, it made me sad. Shopping was such a part of the lifestyle of my mother and grandmother, and therefore me. Every Saturday the women in the family would go out shopping, usually bickering the whole way. There's nobody left to do that now but me and Aunt Grace, and I don't envision myself shopping with her alone and by choice at any time during my lifetime.

It's probably a sad statement that it's shopping that leaves me feeling isolated and alone and empty.

Friday, July 09, 2004

I know you'll read this. Last night you said that you shouldn't and wouldn't because I'm married, and you didn't want to put that in jeopardy. I hope you understand that he's not any sort of obstacle to anything. In fact, he's the one that tells me that if I ever plan to have kids, I need to have some sort of sexual fling beforehand, because I would never do it after because I would feel even more guilty if there were kids in the equation. So the decision is strictly my own to make. I'd have to decide if I'd feel too guilty or whether I could just go with the moment. That night was more about me not wanting to do anything I might regret or feel guilty about later. One of the damned hardest decisions I've ever had to make in the heat of the moment. But he would never make me feel guilty. It wouldn't be unforgivable. It would all be internal guilt. I have a good marriage and great friendship with him; I have no worries about that. I do have worries about my own brain and emotions. My own brain has always been my most formidable opponent.

Of course, all of this is not to say that I'm walking around as an open invitation to the world, I just thought you should know that the whole thing was about me and not about him or you or us. And none of it probably makes any sense.
Do you feel bad for the pelicans? Do you laugh? I can't decide.

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

The group VP supposedly resigned today. This means that the axis of evil might be breaking down. Or, god help me, it might mean that MM is going to get his job. Oh shit.

Monday, July 05, 2004

I have to face work again tomorrow, knowing that the crusade to force G out of the company is well underway. So all I have left to do is be subversive and fight MM's malice with malice. If nothing else, it will keep me busy.
Monday morning, July 5. The holiday is over, and we had a good time, entertaining partygoers with fried plantain chips and Cuban garlic sauce, walking down to the fireworks. Very nice. We met some new people, potentially got a new customer for the studio and all around had a good time.

C took his camera to the fireworks and got some very cool pictures. It's so hard to take shots of light, but these are amazing, streaks of light and color.

C has been really great with me this weekend, more so than usual. He's helped me to work through a bunch of stuff about mom. He thinks that a large part of my grieving happened when my grandmother died. Because my mother and my grandmother were so inextricably intertwined, I knew that with grandmom's death nothing would ever be the same. My connection to so many of those Philly memories was gone, as traditions died with her. And because my mother never had time to become her own person in my mind, it was just an extension of the grief I already felt. He might be right. Mom and grandmom were so tied up and twisted together that there really could never be one without the other. So now it's up to me to chart my own path and be independent in ways that I never felt that I could be before, and that's more of a case of opening doors than closing them, which makes it less difficult to face these changes than I would ordinarily expect. Interesting.

Sunday, July 04, 2004

Amazing. I've written four or five times in the last few days and nothing has posted since June 30.

Saturday, July 03, 2004

This is a war, is it not? So why, then, are we surprised to find that the people we are at war with are choosing to kill our people? Should this come as a surprise? War is nothing more than sanctioned mass murder, so why is there any shock and horror on the part of the competing nations?

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