Strongly Worded

Two Pieces of Good News

1) My former evil racists landlords returned my security deposit. The check arrived in today's afternoon mail, on the absolute last day that is legally permissible. Just look out for your mail, suckas. Plenty of fun is in store.

2) The guy who said he'd "track me down" upon his return from his business trip? He actually did. In fact he called me as he was driving into town on Sunday. We had a "power breakfast" this morning. It was kind of rushed, and the conversation was kind of him-centric, but he followed up with an encouraging text message. My first ever text message, people!

Posted by Dori at 9:45 PM 0 comments

Vacation Vs. "Vacation"

Features of a Vacation

• Change of scenery;
• High ratio of fun hours to transit hours;
• Incorporation of natural beauty, culturally significant sights, and/or bonding with loved ones;
• Relaxation and sleep without work-related dreams; and
  
• Lack of contact with co-workers.
  

Features of this "Vacation"

• Four hours of driving to and from my hometown (for two nights, one day of fun time);
• Approximately 24 hours of liquid-free flying/airport time to and from California (for three nights, two days of fun/exciting/emotional time);
• Incorporation of brief bonding with loved ones;
• Errands galore, including tracking down my evil racist landlords who have still not returned my security deposit;
• Two calls from my workplace about two things that could have absolutely been addressed with a little resourcefulness from co-workers (and about which I now feel guilty since I was not uber-friendly during said calls);
• Three additional calls from my workplace about things that could probably not have been addressed without my input;
  
• Arriving in Boston at 5:45 p.m. on Monday and going to work on Tuesday morning; and
  
• Dreams about my crazy stressful job and unceasing worries about the new staff member starting on Wednesday.

This sucks.

Posted by Dori at 2:54 PM 0 comments

To Everything, There is a Season

It is the end of August, and it has been startlingly cool over the last week; I am wearing my fuzzy gray sweater that I decommissioned in the spring. All kinds of changes and transitions are in the works.

My friend R.I.B. (to distinguish her from my friends R.B. and R.), will become my friend R.I.S. on Sunday, when she will marry her love of four years in Los Angeles. I am a bridesmaid, and (maybe even more importantly), a witness signatory of the ketubah. The ketubah is a binding legal document in the Jewish wedding tradition. After discussing the implications of this serious task with the rabbi, I will sign in Hebrew (I've been practicing). When R.I.B. asked me to fulfill this honor, I dissolved into tears. Suddenly, the wedding that has been in the works for ages is happening, and I realized that R.I.B. is not just a bride-to-be, but a wife-to-be. Tomorrow, very very early, I leave for L.A.. I'm bringing my fancy pen.

A different wedding brought my San Francisco-based friend/ex-boyfriend A.P. to Boston. He and I had a Friendship Breakthrough. Neither of us is in a relationship, but we did not hook up as we have in the past under similar circumstances (despite the fact that we openly declared attraction for one another, and he looked really adorable with his Cape Cod tan and his very chic, summery-green button-down shirt). Thus we have transitioned from "friends" to friends.

Probably even more importantly, A.P. is finishing his bachelor's degree. Despite his brilliance (he scored perfectly on his SATs, and started writing computer programs when he was 8 years old), he did not mesh so well with college. Now he is going back to school and buying supplies, and he asked why index cards are such a hot item. I really had to think for a while. In high school, people used them when writing papers (a fact on each card, which then got arranged sequentially, and became reports). But since then? Umm ... Oh. Right. They can function as flash cards, to help memorize formulae and key exam facts.

I have also let go of an important component of my own life. For the last five years, I've convened with an exceptionally cool group of women for bi-weekly writing workshops. We started out as classmates in a rigorous creative writing course, and then struck out on our own, taking turns submitting work and facilitating the critiques. Over time, members moved away, pursued other Tuesday-night activities, got married/pregnant, pursued crazy busy jobs, and so forth. The group (of originally ten) shrunk to three. We became decreasingly organized and the writing/chatting ratio flipped. But recently, three new women joined the group, leaving me secure in the knowledge that it will continue without me, and allowing me to admit to myself and the others that I am workshopped-out. The July meeting was my last. It's sad. But it's time.

The aforementioned R.B. is also getting married, and Melinda's progeny is due soon, too.

Turn, turn, turn.

Posted by Dori at 8:12 AM 4 comments

Excuse Me For One Moment

Gentle readers, it is 9:37 a.m. and I am sitting here looking at the piles of paper on my desk and feeling nauseous. I have to present at a training tomorrow, and I have to do scary financial calculations with a consultant in Lexington, to whom I am faxing 65 pages of documents ONE BY FUCKING ONE. In addition to overwhelming staffing issues; updating the personnel policies (you haven’t lived until you’ve outlined a grievance procedure); overseeing installation of a new phone system, database, and data storage widget; I am trying to placate a dragon lady client, of whom I am so, so afraid. I think I may miss the first 9/1 deadline, because some of the work related to that project was supposed to be done by my new staff member, who isn’t starting until September 6th. And no, she won’t understand.

I have acupuncture at 1:30, and my home phone doesn’t work. Which means I’m trying to return the calls of three friends who are worried about me, because my home phone is theoretically disconnected and I didn’t react to their cell messages, since I never use my cell phone.

There’s more, but I won’t go there, because now it’s 9:44 a.m. and what have I just done? Placated dragon lady? Kicked it with the grievance policy? NO. I have blogged and not even written anything profound.

So you’ll have to excuse me. Not that I’m (necessarily) going to go accomplish anything. It’s just that I have to go cry and/or throw up now.

Posted by Dori at 9:54 AM 3 comments

Summer Reading List

(I'm shamelessly co-opting this from Jassy and a number of other bloggers ... various versions are making the rounds ...)

One (OK, two) book(s) that you wish you had written (and may still write someday):
A book version of this blog, in which the subtitle would include the words "life and love" and "20-something". I also fantasize about writing a Bridget-Jones-meets-Peter-Mayle account of my two years in Spain.

AND I wish I’d authored the fabulous Prep, by Curtis Sittenfeld.

One book you wish had been written:
It Totally Sucks, It’s Not Your Fault, and You Will Survive It: A Junior High Survival Guide.
And, perhaps a sequel: You Need More Than The Bell: Saving Yourself from the High School Years.

I would also put in a vote for Jassy's fantasy book: How to Find Lasting Love ASAP: A Guaranteed Strategy.

One book you wish had never been written:
I acknowledge these are good books, so I'm just going to say I wish I'd never read them: The Prince of Tides, The Kite Runner, and My Sister's Keeper, all of which deeply upset me.

One (OK, two) book(s) that changed your life:
Two books about the reality of urban poverty, which really woke me up:
There are No Children Here
Aint No Makin It: Aspirations and Attainment in a Low-Income Neighborhood.

One book you have read more than once:
I'm pretty ruthless about culling my collection (if I'm feeling meh about a book, I usually give it away/donate it). Thus, most of the books I own, I really love, and re-read constantly. The books I've read millions of times include: River Town (which I've mentioned before--it's the memoir of a Peace Corps volunteer stationed in a remote Chinese province); This is My Daughter, a masterful fictional account of a blended family (I don't understand why this book isn't famous, it's so so good and beautifully written); Random Family (which is famous--a true account of about 5 years in a South Bronx community); Truth and Beauty, a memoir of author Ann Patchett's friendship with her poet friend Lucy Greeley (I identify both with slow-and-steady Ann and madcap-but-afflicted Lucy); and ...

... Let's be real, Maeve Binchy's Scarlet Feather, which is fiction about two friends who start a catering company. I am going to own the fact that I am a Maeve Binchy junkie. She's a very prolific Irish writer, who produces book after book about plucky Irish characters, all of whom, the reader learns by the end of each story, are somehow are connected. It's all so happy and engaging and you know everything's going to turn out just fine in the end.

One book you would want on a desert island:
I'm torn on this one. Either a long important book like War and Peace (that I'd never read otherwise), or something delightful like Anne of Green Gables, which inspired much of my own early “work”.

One book you are currently reading:
Does the Fall 2006 Ikea catalog count? No? Well, I just finished reading American Evita, which traces Hillary Rodham Clinton's rise to power. I was a huge Hillary fan until I read this startling book. Now I'm conflicted. (I would love to hear Melinda's take on it--hint hint.) The next real book on my nightstand is a memoir of a Greek-American woman who moves to a little random Island in Greece.

One book (OK, two) you have been meaning to read:
Freakonomics.
Blink: the Power to Think Without Thinking.

Posted by Dori at 1:13 PM 3 comments

Following Up

Thanks for all your kind vibes and concern. The guy called this afternoon to make tentative plans for the evening. At 9:30 p.m. he called again after it was clear that tentative plans were not happening. We had a 40-minute conversation during which he talked 90% of the time. He is leaving for a week-long work trip and will be back next Sunday, at which point he will "track me down".

So. I'm done with the torture. It was fun hanging out with him, I definitely enjoyed the fancy food, and I remain perplexed by the kissing. He is lovely and perhaps we'll trade cute emails this week and fall in love when he gets back, but this seems unlikely, and I'm pretty much done stressing about it.

Posted by Dori at 10:32 PM 3 comments

Dating is Torture

So. As I mentioned obliquely, I've gone out with this great, non-JDate guy with whom R. set me up. We met for coffee the day before I moved apartments, and I thought he was very nice, while wondering if we had anything in common. Then he emailed me after I moved, to ask how I was settling in, which was sweet and considerate.

We traded emails and made plans for a second classy dinner date, at a classy restaurant. It was lovely. The next day he sent me a cute follow-up "I-had-a-great-time-hope-you-did-too" message, before leaving for a week-long vacation on the Cape. When he returned, we traded daily cute emails before going out to another classy third-date dinner and an IMAX flick on Thursday night. During said Thursday night date, kissing occurred. We made vague plans to see each other Sunday or Monday, before he leaves for a week-long work trip. I woke up the next morning with that happy/silly/stupefied/did-this-actually-happen feeling.

Then, I had a crazy obnoxious day at work, during which I checked email obsessively, desperate for a follow-up message that indicated desire to proceed romantically. I was flooded with panic. Things had seemed to be going well (why else would he have made such careful plans for such a classy evening, or initiated the kissing?) -- but -- maybe he was beseiged by the dating equivalent of buyer's remorse? What if the kissing--and the date itself--was a final attempt to assess chemistry before ruling me out?

Friends, I bit the bullet. I emailed him, thanking him for the classy dinner and sending him a link to some thing I had mentioned. He responded hours later, with no post-kissing loveliness, indicating that his day had been similarly stressful, and that he'd check out the link and get back to me on Saturday.

I recoiled with shame at the thought of my prematurely happy and secure feelings. I went for a long walk, trying to calm myself. And who did I run into? Mr. Canine, with whom I went on four or five dates, kissed, and then dismissed. Is it a sign? A wicked cackle from the universe? Please, please say it isn't so.

Friends, it is 5:18 p.m. on Saturday. I am tortured. Please, please send out collective vibes willing this cool new guy to call me, say something reassuring, and make plans to see me again.

Posted by Dori at 4:51 PM 6 comments

Blue Walls, Blond Wood, and Low Lighting

Thank your lucky stars, because I'm giving you the latest installment in Dori's Scintillating Medical History. After my bad interaction with the MGH neurologist, my new friend and blog reader Deb W. (whose husband posts as "L.") suggested I call the brand new Women's Headache Center.

Because it just opened, I was able to score an appointment. Today I met with the founder, who is a neurologist, a fellow headache sufferer, and a WOMAN. Women are disproportionately affected by headaches, and, shocklingly, the medical establishment tends to dismiss their complaints.

This new headache clinic features calming blue walls and dim lighting (since migraines can cause sensitivity to light). Gentle, tinkling new-age music plays softly in the waiting room, and the nurse asks if you have a headache before turning on the lights in the exam room. Dr. Bernstein is gentle and sweet and wears chunky shoes and no lab coat. She came up with three suggestions for me (two new meds and biofeedback), which fancy bigwig Dr. MGH didn't even know about.

The BEST PART? After listening sympathetically in a non-rushed way, conducting the neuro exam and discussing my options, the doctor said: "Call us if you need anything. If you get a bad headache, and it doesn't respond to treatment, we'll get you in right away. There are all kinds of things we can do to help if you need it; we can give you "rescue medication"."

Seriously, I almost cried. Of all the zillions of providers I've seen, not ONE has offered rescue of any kind, and I've never experienced such a soothing and compassionate medical interaction.

Posted by Dori at 6:14 PM 4 comments

What I Was Doing ...

I was tagged by the lovely Jen, so I'm obliging!

What were you doing 1 second ago?
Avoiding work by writing an email about non-blog-related business to my dear friend Melinda.

What were you doing an hour ago?
Being all important and directorial, ordering people around and making strategic decisions. Oh, OK. You got me. Perusing Staples’ furniture collection, trying to find a cabinet that will house our office microwave/fridge and have drawers for snacks, paper products, and other meeting supplies.

What were you doing yesterday?
Accomplishing some massive, long-overdue organizing of receipts, bank statements, mail, and other miscellaneous paper that has accumulated and been hanging over my head, albatross-like, for a long time. Also I put together a picture frame; I took it apart and then it took me almost an hour to put it back again, and I cut myself twice. AND I made a goat cheese and mushroom tart; curried chicken salad with grapes, apricots, and walnuts; and guacamole. Plus, I cleaned the bathroom, suspended my gym membership (because really, who are we kidding), and crossed every single item off my to-do list.

What were you doing a month ago?
Interviewing job candidates. Beginning to pack for the impending move. Loathing my evil racist landlords. Beginning my acupuncture journey. Going out with Mr. Ivy.

What were you doing a year ago?
Healing from the heartbreak. Feeling bereft about everything.

What were you doing five years ago?
Transitioning to life back in the U.S. after my second year in Spain. I spent two years there—one in college, one after graduation. The second year, I worked with a professor of educational psychology on a research project. We didn’t get along very well, but it was a great experience and I am really proud of the fact that I showed up in a strange city, committed to a project I knew nothing about, knowing no one, and then after a year I felt quite at home in beautiful Seville, I had a crew of cool Spanish friends, and I’d written a long research report in Spanish (which the professor never published, but whatever). That year, I met my dear friend R. (who is American, and one of my closest friends nowadays), hosted my first dinner party, and conquered many insecurities.

What were you doing ten years ago?
Interning in Chicago, at a school policy organization. I thought I was so great and smart because I was an education major and had studied all this theory, whereas the actual staff members just had years of experience. I complained that my project wasn’t sufficiently challenging. I shudder with shame about how baselessly arrogant I was. Chicago was cool, though. It was the first time I lived in an apartment on my own, and it was dazzling. I also read There are No Children Here, a book about public housing in Chicago, and that book woke me up from my sheltered-small- town-slumber and changed my life.

Posted by Dori at 12:50 PM 0 comments

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

So. I've been busy and preoccupied with work, moving aftermath (painting, futile, crooked attempts on hanging pictures ...), and ... well, not much else, now that I think about it.

At night, I lie in bed and look around at the naked walls and wish I could summon the energy to cut/sew the curtains so they don't drag on the floor. Then I start wishing I had the skills to hang artwork in a straight and centered fashion. I can't do it, even when I have a laser level and tape measure. When I stop obsessing about the curtains, the pictures, and mice; I start obsessing about work.

This brilliant guy accepted the open position in my office, and I am going to be an Effective Supervisor for the first time in my life. I have a decent amount of supervision experience. With interns, I've done a good job providing feedback, giving orientations, and establishing learning goals. But with full time staff? I'm a total pushover. My "subordinates" have been significantly older than me, and I've established these collegial relationships which bite me in the ass when I performance issues come up.

In preparation for the new staff member, I'm revising and updating personnel policies, which I guess I now have to enforce, and abide by. There's a whole section about using office equipment exclusively for work, which I have never done. I am agonizing over this. Will my blogging have to happen after hours? What about all the other unsanctioned things I do in the office? Can I legitimately ask a new staff member to follow rules that I flout? And how do I introduce all these policies to the other long-term staff who have never even seen them? Tricky stuff.

After sufficient preseveration about personnel, I shift to thoughts about my career in general and long term prospects. I endure some anxiety. Then I think about how I still haven't transferred the warranty on my car to my name. (Seriously. I've thought about this probably several times a week since I bought the car--in JANUARY--and have I done anything about it? NO.)

As I'm wrapping up my nightly worry-session, I turn my thoughts to my love life, and I do some over-analysis of my latest dating prospect, comparing how I feel about him to how I've felt about other guys at the same point in the "relationship". Then I allow myself a fleeting moment of exhiliration. After squelching it, I toss and turn for a while and eventually drift off.

Sweet dreams!

Posted by Dori at 1:20 PM 2 comments

Weekend Wrap Up: Low Brow, High Brow

Low Brow:
I painted my bedroom. I wore pants that have seen me through several painting projects over the years, and which have been stored in basements and are mildewed; this was their last hurrah. The process sucked. I alternately crouched along the chipped, scratched baseboards and craned my neck trying to paint the upper parts of the walls. I caulked the chipped trim and wiped drips off the wood floors with old socks. I still need to paint the window/door frames, but my bedroom is now a stunning golden beige color known as "Woven Basket."

I attended the "Open Air Circus", a community event in which local kids demonstrate newly acquired circus skills, including unicycling, devil sticks, juggling, stage combat, stilts, and hip hop. The performers were adorable, with extraordinarily nascent talent. Only a handful of unicylists made it all the way across the stage, and the stage combat was thinly veiled chaos. One little girl in the audience, in a cry of defensive outrage, yelled: THAT'S MY SISTER! when she saw her sibling being mauled by ninjas. At the end of the event, all the performers and their parents stormed the stage and danced the Twist. During intermission, I ate a 50 cent cupcake. When I asked if it was homemade from scratch, I was told by the young vendor (who later appeared in the ribbon dancing act) that it was "made from a mix, but at home."

High Brow
I attended an afternoon tea at Upstairs on the Square, in honor of my friend Anne's marriage. Guests sipped kir royales and snacked on petit fours and almond-stuffed-dates wrapped in bacon. I sat with a group of women I've met many times at different Anne-sponsored events. She is moving to Chicago and I will miss her wonderful parties and her intriguing group of friends.

I had dinner at Rendezvouz with a cool new guy. I wore my sexy-but-not-trashy dress with a cool new necklace my mom brought me from her recent trip to Berlin. It was the best date I've had in a long time; I will not jinx it by writing about it. A highlight: cucumber and radish soup with mint.

Posted by Dori at 9:04 PM 2 comments

Just Call Me Ishmael

So there was a black fly buzzing and swooping in my apartment for three nights. A big black bastard making enraging noises and flying crazily across my path. I chased and swatted that fucker for ages. At each failed attempt, I'd console myself with the thought that it would die soon anyway; bugs only live a few days. I snuck into my bedroom each night and slammed the door, trying to ban the whining whizzing fly from the boudoir. And then --moments after turning in--I'd hear it zooming around overhead.

This insect raised my hackles and activated every territorial, primordial atom in my being. Each time the bug escaped my lethal grasp, Arnold Swarznegger lines came, unbidden, into my mind, followed by a frustrated chuckle and the phrase "I'll get you next time", as uttered by Inspector Gadget's nemesis, Dr. Claw.

I looked up home bug-killing remedies. Apparently, bugs like alcohol, and if you leave a glass of wine out for them, they'll drink it, become intoxicated, fall into the glass, and die drunken drowning deaths. I didn't have any wine, so I mixed orange juice and rubbing alcohol, and left it on the counter, expecting death and destruction. Nothing happened.

I sprayed Raid all over the place. I sprayed Raid directly at the bug, and consequently all over my own body and my possessions. Come evening, as I was stepping into the shower, prepared to remove the dangerous chemicals from my skin, I heard the familiar whine, and I got in the right place at the right time with the toilet plunger.

I raised the plunger and summoned the gracious words of Melville: "from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee."

My friends, I took out Moby Bug. It took a bunch of swipes; he didn't go down without a fight. But I prevailed, and I took a scary amount of satisfaction from my triumph.

Posted by Dori at 1:38 PM 0 comments

Pros and Cons

We’re undergoing substantial infrastructural upgrades in the office.
Pros: We’ll be able to file-share (meaning I won’t have to do all the data entry), we’ll have wireless Internet (fewer cables), and the computer consultant (as opposed to ME) is dealing with all the glitches.

Cons: The computer consultant is dealing with all the glitches, so I've heard a whole lot about LAN and WAN today, been kicked out of my workspace, and done very little work.

A blistering heat wave has slammed the East Coast.
Pros: the City has established a State of Emergency and opened air-conditioned “cooling centers” for elders and other at-risk populations.

Cons: I’m not an elder or a member of an at-risk population; thus, I'm not planning to hang out in a cooling center, and the A/C in my office is sluggish and at home I have it only in the bedroom.

My new home has many windows.
Pros: relative breeziness and outdoor (OK, driveway) views.

Cons: Crazy bug access. I chased around two huge black flies for the better part of yesterday evening. Those suckers were buzzing like lawnmowers and zipping around the apartment, taunting me. I tried and tried to take them down. I got enraged. It was like Moby Dick, the insect version.

My mouse phobia has prompted me to spend $41 on the “Pest-a-cator 1000”, a device that purportedly keeps rodents away by emitting annoying pulsing sounds. I’m hoping there are no mice that need to be annoyed, but I need to set boundaries right off the bat.
Pros: No toxins or traps; hopefully no dead mice to contend with.

Cons: Apparently the “pest-a-cator” creates an “initial increase in activity”, meaning: the mice that might be living in the walls could get annoyed and decide to relocate; creating potential for scurrying and mouse sightings. Which would totally unhinge me.

Posted by Dori at 8:32 PM 2 comments

The Week of Magical Thinking

So. Moving drama has subsided. Renovations have (mostly) subsided. I conducted Xtreme decorating over the weekend, and eight friends and my parents have visited. Last night I used the oven for the first time. This morning I recycled all the moving boxes. I now reside in Dori's home. Since the former occupant was my dear friend DM, and since I'd been thinking of it as "DM's apartment" for the last two years, this is significant.

You know how when some big Life Event is in the works, you tell yourself that you'll deal with X,Y and Z after Life Event is over? Well, this is the case with me. For the last three weeks, obsessing about packing and moving has displaced obsessions about other things. Once the move was complete, I experienced euphoria about all the lovely space, and the freedom from the tyranny of the evil racist landlords. I created an "Unpacking Mix" on iTunes, which includes K.T. Tunstall's delightful ditty "Suddenly I See". This joy got intertwined with my wish for Xtreme Life Changes, and I made the twisted leap of logic that this move is the turning point for next (best) part of my life. I do a ton of magical thinking--not really believing--but sort of contemplating--the role of random factors in my future.

This means I agonized when replacing my work bag (thinking, insanely: what if, by getting rid of the old one, I will never get another job? After all, I had that bag when I got hired for my current position ...). Similarly: I have a perfectly cute pink shirt that I wore the day a relationship unraveled, and it just sits in my drawer, unworn, and haunts me.

This is coming up now because: DM moved out of this apartment to move in with the love of her life. So perhaps the apartment is blessed with love karma, and therefore romance is imminent for me. OR, conversely, since the other two women in the building are single (and might have been referred to as spinsters in another age), could I be dooming myself? All of my former roommates (who lived with me in a shared apartment before I got my own place.) are married now. So will that apartment/love karma carry over (and if so, why hasn't it yet?)? Or did it apply only to the occupants of the first floor?

I am fully aware of how crazy this is. And the reason I bring it up is because I had a very disappointing day yesterday. I was sad and discouraged and I came home to my huge new place and still felt sad and discouraged. I realized that, on some level, I've harbored a hope that by virtue of moving here, my life would suddenly burst into bloom, romantically and professionally.

As DM said when I confessed this, it's only been a week, and yet I'm still feeling the brunt of disappointment.

Posted by Dori at 10:05 PM 3 comments