i think im going to end up walking to the bookstore in a few minutes and buy a powerbook. its a big decision. im not 100% about it.

but i also see very little reason to wait. there are to be no majr revisions in the next year. and though my circumstances in the next year will no doubt be changing (once i finish school here), there doesnt seem to be a reason not to get it for that. if it turns out i must have a new desktop machine, ill just suck it up and spend the 500 on it. but im not convinced that i will. esp if i get virtual pc on this machine.

im still scared.

im good at spending money on little things – some comics, some cds. but i dont do as well with bigger products. and this is big.

also, i would like to point out that i will own: ikea, birkenstocks, volkswagen and then apple (though i guess since i have an ipod im already there). my metamophesis into consumer whore will be complete. esp on the days i wear gap/old navy.

oi.

i cant believe im stressing this much. no one seems to have any opinion for me, save will and kurt being excited for me making the switch away from the ‘dark side’. which i wont be doing anyway. ill just be bi-.

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I’ve taken up two new hobbies and one new nervous habit. The latter first: I’ve begun keeping floss with me at all times. I’ve got a spool in my glovebox, a spool on my bedside table, and one in my bag. I don’t do it when other people are around or anything, just by myself. In the car, or whatever. It’s satisfying. And it joins my other nervous habit: drinking water. They’re pretty good ones, I think. I mean, better than eating or smoking or popping copious amounts of vitamins, which is what some of my family members do. (I asked my uncle how many he took each morning. He said, “about fifty. And then there are the lunch and dinnertime ones.”)

My new hobbies render me a surprised domestic. That is, I’ve begun knitting and cooking. I feel as though I ought to be browsing McCall’s pattern books and back issues of Woman’s World in my spare time. But really, it’s delightful. The world of knitting is a whole new (strange) universe. Women write in perplexing shorthand, ordering their long-distance pupils to ‘CO 110 sts, k 7 in, p 7 in, k 5 in, BO using medium.’ The old staffers at the craft store eye me suspiciously through their messy makeup as I sift uncomfortably through skeins of yarn, trying to decode the labels–what’s the difference between ‘Homespun’ and ‘Woolly Thick ‘n’ Quick’? I feel as though I’ve been dropped from a plane into some foreign country, and I’m expected to learn the dialect immediately by immersion.

Cooking is less alienating. Words are recognizable and tasks are stated in short, powerful sentences that are easily broken down. ‘Sautee tarragon and butter until melted, but not brown.’ Easy. ‘Melt’ and ‘brown’ are simpler distinctions for me than ‘US 11 circular’ and ‘12 mm aluminum.’ So tonight I’ll be making sirloin steak with olive tapenade and potato croquettes. The only problem is that all the measurements are relayed in metric, and all the temperatures are given in centigrade.

And lastly, I’m working on (yet) another zine. It’s so nice to be writing at a steady pace, and to see the ease in improvement. I suppose that, were I to add composition to this list of hobbies I’ve got going (though I don’t think I’d consider it one), I’d say it’s the most gratifying, and certainly the least dependent on others’ opinions and reactions. Knitting and cooking, since I consider myself such a novice, require constant affirmation from anyone nearby. Writing is comfortable. The standards and the speak are hardly new to me, and I usually have a good sense of the central thrust of a piece and of whether or not I’ve attained the goals I set out for myself. It’s a nice counterpoint to introducing myself to something so new and mechanical as domesticity.

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a woman in my office is in the beginning stages of an office affair. she is married and has two children, and for now, her affair is limited to phone calls, long office visits, lunches out, and after-work cocktail parties. i dont think the enamoration has yet been consumated.

however, the other night i stayed late to work. i had no idea that she would be attending a cocktail party. nor did i know said party would be taking place downstairs in our cafeteria. nor had i yet put together the fact that her recent attendance at other company cocktail events were with her newfound friend. that night, as i worked later than normal, she mustve asked me five times what i was working on and when i would be leaving. it was incredibly inconsiderate, mostly because i do a lot of work for her (although she is not my supervisor) and she really has no business knowing when im leaving. but for the last few months, i have been forced to listen to her hour-long daily phone calls, her social hours when her friend stops by, and her near-bragging mentions of her social dates with her friend. not to mention all of the wardrobe discussions with other co-workers about which shirt looks cuter. and then there is the mound of new clothes she has purchased this spring. plus the incessant cleaning of her office that is undertaken only to present an orderly room for her friend.

and yet i have nothing to do with this. i couldnt tell you if she has slept with this man or not, or if she plans to. but the whole situation just makes me sick. while she is busy putting on make-up for cocktail parties, her sons call work to see when she will be home. it’s so frustrating to hear all of this and have it not be any of my business. it has also been enlightening. i suppose this is the first secretive office romance i have ever witnessed, and even worse, most people who work with her know what is going on. it’s sad, and pathetic in way. and in another way, it is simply trashy, inconsiderate, and dumb. i hope that she will come up for a breath of air and come to her senses sooner rather than later. falling out of love with your husband is one thing. falling in lust with another man while still married is a whole different situation altogether.

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i’m having another lovely accomplished day. i worked out, ran errands, cleaned the gutter, made 2 birthday packages, and packed to go to fairfax for my days off. i am anticipating a lovely reunion with my wonderdog, who has been vacationing in fairfax with his dogfather for the past week and a half. i also have all the roommate stuff straightened out – john’s law school friend katie will be moving in. for once, it feels as if things are coming together nicely and not quite as topsy-turvy as usual.

ps: i love my girls:

49 days til we invade the virgin islands. woot!

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do i spend 1550 on a 15″ powerbook? i cant decide.

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Midnight. It is the kind of evening where you open the windows and fall asleep to the cricket symphony’s moonlight serenade. The air is unseasonably cool and dry, and the calendar lets you know this reprieve won’t last long.

I am reminded of a night like this twenty years ago. I lay in the guest bed at my stepmother’s house in Hampton Roads. The room was tucked just inside the second story roof rafters and the head of the tall bed rested level with the sill of the window.

I was eleven, and it was the first night I ever decided to sleep sans clothes.

From the window, lying on my stomach with the cool sheets around me, I could see down onto the front step of the house next door where a girl a year or two older than me sat listening to the same crickets as I. I tried to whisper to her but she did not hear or did not want to.

A few hours earlier, we stood in the shadows between the two houses a few yards from where she now sat, just beneath the window I was peering out, in fact. She had pressed me against the wall and herself hard against me, an inexperienced kiss mashed onto my inexperienced lips.

There was the excitement of first kissing somebody squared by the alarm of the very first kiss like that. Well, I freaked. I was eleven and hadn’t quite turned the corner from playing with G.I. Joes to trying to catch a peek up a girl’s skirt in math class. I don’t recall how but I know I hastily exited the scene, leaving her sad and quite cross.

I had first spied her when she peeked over the fence between the backyards earlier that day. We talked briefly—-about what I don’t remember—-and I had the understanding—-I’m not quite sure how-—that her home life wasn’t that great. It occurred to me later that a wild pass at me was simply a way of escaping that, of feeling something else. Pressed between her and the house the only other thought that entered my mind besides “Wow!” was that this was the time in every movie where her father would come busting out the front door with a shotgun. Hollywood had taught me that much: kiss a daughter, get chased by a gun-toting father. So, as exciting as this was, and in spite of her urgings, I was more concerned with getting a head start on the fleeing/chasing I was sure would start any second.

Lying in the bed that night, feeling sexual for the very first time, and watching her wait on the stoop below, reflecting upon the evening—-reviewing, if you will—-pointed out my inexperience and highlighted my gaffes and insensitivities.

So, there we were. Her watching my front door, me watching her watch for me. All set to the eternal serenade of the crickets.

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random thought and impulse: i want to find, re-read, and maybe buy the story about ping. i remember it from when i was little, but only vaguely. somehow it jumped into my conscious thought just now and i really want to read it again.

today has already been weird. when i got to the gym and was filling up my bottle at the water fountain, i felt like i was going to barf. and then i did. thankfully, i made it to the locker room in time. after emptying the contents of my poor tum into the toilet, i rinsed my mouth, assessed my wellness, and decided i felt okay. i did my workout and walked home but wonder wtf that was all about. (morning sickness cracks and theories need not apply.)

i wasn’t really impressed with “fahrenheit 9-11″. i didn’t think it offered any real insight and it didn’t really inspire me to think differently about anything. jesse summed it up well by saying that he kind of felt like he had been watching a wrap-up of the news for the past year. i’m not sure i even really find it controversial.

i couldn’t stop squinting at this photo, thinking one of britney’s nipples must be exposed.

check out this article about “fahrenheit 9/11″. harsh, but some good points. it helped me concretely figure out some of the aspects of the film that have bee bugging me.

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