She couldn't shake the image of seeing her Death. She went and wrote things down and stared at the page. A part of her couldn't read and another part understood what could be seen as the ramblings of a mad woman. She took a deep breath, and allowed the words to settle in front of her. She wanted to tell him about what she experienced. Instead, she just went to sleep and had a dreamless sleep, the last vestiges of worry faded with each second.
When she awoke, the pages were next to her. She dared not look at it and immediately went to get showered and dressed to run some weekend errands. She would be gone for a few hours and she figured she might as well make a start of the day. She went out and picked up some food for the dog and some breakfast. When she came back into her apartment, she was faced by her cousin, who asked her about what had happened.
It was a lot to soak in and it was going to take a lot more to explain without sounding crazy. She was very quiet, and her cousin hugged her, pulled her close, and it was a comfort. It felt good. She suddenly felt tears in her eyes and started to cry. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, I didn't mean to hurt you," her cousin said gently.
"I thought you didn't love me anymore. That you had no room for me." was all that she could get out before going into a full bawl.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
another several days
Had passed since she last wrote anything. She was annoyed. She felt blocked. Another thing she started and hadn't finished. A quitter again. Again. Shit. She felt upset, disappointed. Work was getting busy, and she felt tension-filled. Unsure, that just made things even more weird and stressed her out. She tried to play it off and be cool, but she still felt unsure, taking direction from others was almost like understanding shorthand for the first time, and she was trying not to scream or sound stupid. It was a lot to take in.
Then there was home. More madness. Her hair and skin were feeling it. She decided to pull out a journal and write the following:
"I am a fucking guest that helps pay the rent. That is what I am. What I've allowed myself to become. Because I have obviously nothing to offer. Am lazy and superficial. Walked down the street and found I have no home. No one to come home to. Don't even have a pet. Must pack my shit and move on. There's nothing for me here. I have been as supportive as I could be and have stood to the side and kept on a brave face as time passes me.
I cannot relate to people. People bore and puzzle me. They don't hold any excitement. There are no promises made or kept. No one expects to follow through. I am cursed with loneliness and without the social ease that others have. I am lost. A ship without a rudder."
She turned a page, suddenly inspired to write a list:
"Tomorrow," she continued, "plastic bins. Hold what's in drawers. Start saving to start storing. Remove books and store."
She didn't think for a second why she had a diverted thought. There was a tougher thing to write, and that was probably why.
She turned the page, sighed, and the rest came flowing out:
"I thought if I died would it matter. To most, no. To whomever I'm a floating memory or image. I beg for punishment or resolution and all I find is indifference, scorn or boredom. Tediousness magnified. They say I can't see a project to the end and they're right. I'm simply not as good and disciplined as the others.
I am a failure.
An utter complete failure.
And it doesn't matter if I try or have faith.
It's unimportant.
I'm unimportant.
The world will go on.
With or without me. It will still spin to oblivion."
She thought of her walk in the middle of the night, feeling sorry for herself, letting the anger dispel from her. Each block brought her closer to quiet. To isolation. Less people on the street. For once she did not care.
As she walked, the air got cooler and cooler. She had been hoping it wouldn't, as she had wanted to stay out as late as she could. She wondered if she heard a footstep but would not turn around. She would continue forward, face her fears, she thought. As she approached a block, it looked like it was a step back in time. The block was a private block, and it looked like another time. She took a gasp, and realized she was alone. Or was she. She felt someone watching. She looked around, nothing. A feeling of something. Unfamiliar. Strange. Suddenly, a cab appeared, coming down the block. She flagged it down, with a sigh. She got in and the cab made a U turn and took off with her in it. She settled back in her seat when the cab passed the street she had crossed before coming to this part of the quiet neighborhood. It was a man, in a greyish hood, undescript, as if looking, peering down the block where she was, as if he could see that far, and just realizing that she was gone, no longer there. He seemed to pause as he crossed the street, almost as if, there's no point going down that block. She got a feeling that he was looking for her. She wondered, was he Death? Her death? Her oblivion?
She wrote in her notepad:
"Death followed me. I did not embrace it. As with all things, I jumped in a cab and went home. There is an emptiness. Silence. Beauty. Decay. Nothing lasts. Nothing stays the same. People move on, grow old and die. That is it. Most don't lead an extraordinary life."
She thought about her dream of acting. She paused, and wrote: "But oh, to live an extraordinary life. To be inspired by beauty, youth, anything would be exciting and lovely. I know that there is nothing but wasting away. To kiss what is essentially dying flesh and not be revolted is simply...maybe that's the point of vampire films. To be dead yet live forever. To not fear death because it already came and yet still the body is animated, still dreams, still desires. Endless death. What is the point of that? Never having rotting flesh or the feeling of decay? The stench of death? How do vampires smell? Like old flowers? I don't know. I rage yet there's nothing to rage at. An empty shell struggling to find some filling.
The holidays approach and I'm nowhere closer to finding inner peace and personal satisfaction. I still feel at war. Creativeness dulled. All I get is the faint smell of vinegar. Did some spill? Time, perhaps, to let go of some furniture."
She shivered slightly. Before she knew it, she was home, paid the cab driver, thanked him, and walked briskly to her front door. She was home. Or at least, what felt safe and familiar. She sighed, and once in the apartment, locked the door behind her, got out of her clothes and climbed into bed, falling asleep within minutes.
Then there was home. More madness. Her hair and skin were feeling it. She decided to pull out a journal and write the following:
"I am a fucking guest that helps pay the rent. That is what I am. What I've allowed myself to become. Because I have obviously nothing to offer. Am lazy and superficial. Walked down the street and found I have no home. No one to come home to. Don't even have a pet. Must pack my shit and move on. There's nothing for me here. I have been as supportive as I could be and have stood to the side and kept on a brave face as time passes me.
I cannot relate to people. People bore and puzzle me. They don't hold any excitement. There are no promises made or kept. No one expects to follow through. I am cursed with loneliness and without the social ease that others have. I am lost. A ship without a rudder."
She turned a page, suddenly inspired to write a list:
"Tomorrow," she continued, "plastic bins. Hold what's in drawers. Start saving to start storing. Remove books and store."
She didn't think for a second why she had a diverted thought. There was a tougher thing to write, and that was probably why.
She turned the page, sighed, and the rest came flowing out:
"I thought if I died would it matter. To most, no. To whomever I'm a floating memory or image. I beg for punishment or resolution and all I find is indifference, scorn or boredom. Tediousness magnified. They say I can't see a project to the end and they're right. I'm simply not as good and disciplined as the others.
I am a failure.
An utter complete failure.
And it doesn't matter if I try or have faith.
It's unimportant.
I'm unimportant.
The world will go on.
With or without me. It will still spin to oblivion."
She thought of her walk in the middle of the night, feeling sorry for herself, letting the anger dispel from her. Each block brought her closer to quiet. To isolation. Less people on the street. For once she did not care.
As she walked, the air got cooler and cooler. She had been hoping it wouldn't, as she had wanted to stay out as late as she could. She wondered if she heard a footstep but would not turn around. She would continue forward, face her fears, she thought. As she approached a block, it looked like it was a step back in time. The block was a private block, and it looked like another time. She took a gasp, and realized she was alone. Or was she. She felt someone watching. She looked around, nothing. A feeling of something. Unfamiliar. Strange. Suddenly, a cab appeared, coming down the block. She flagged it down, with a sigh. She got in and the cab made a U turn and took off with her in it. She settled back in her seat when the cab passed the street she had crossed before coming to this part of the quiet neighborhood. It was a man, in a greyish hood, undescript, as if looking, peering down the block where she was, as if he could see that far, and just realizing that she was gone, no longer there. He seemed to pause as he crossed the street, almost as if, there's no point going down that block. She got a feeling that he was looking for her. She wondered, was he Death? Her death? Her oblivion?
She wrote in her notepad:
"Death followed me. I did not embrace it. As with all things, I jumped in a cab and went home. There is an emptiness. Silence. Beauty. Decay. Nothing lasts. Nothing stays the same. People move on, grow old and die. That is it. Most don't lead an extraordinary life."
She thought about her dream of acting. She paused, and wrote: "But oh, to live an extraordinary life. To be inspired by beauty, youth, anything would be exciting and lovely. I know that there is nothing but wasting away. To kiss what is essentially dying flesh and not be revolted is simply...maybe that's the point of vampire films. To be dead yet live forever. To not fear death because it already came and yet still the body is animated, still dreams, still desires. Endless death. What is the point of that? Never having rotting flesh or the feeling of decay? The stench of death? How do vampires smell? Like old flowers? I don't know. I rage yet there's nothing to rage at. An empty shell struggling to find some filling.
The holidays approach and I'm nowhere closer to finding inner peace and personal satisfaction. I still feel at war. Creativeness dulled. All I get is the faint smell of vinegar. Did some spill? Time, perhaps, to let go of some furniture."
She shivered slightly. Before she knew it, she was home, paid the cab driver, thanked him, and walked briskly to her front door. She was home. Or at least, what felt safe and familiar. She sighed, and once in the apartment, locked the door behind her, got out of her clothes and climbed into bed, falling asleep within minutes.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Day 11
Work was the usual chaos. As she tried to regain her sense of what was going on around her and get a sense of the goings-on, people zoomed by her and knew what they needed to do and did what they needed to do to get things done. She was in new territory, didn't know half of what she needed to know and tried to just keep her head above water.
"Here is some of what you may find useful," she was told, with different pieces tossed at her. She knew better than to panic. She would figure her way, ask questions, and ask for sit-down time with each person, to get an idea to each piece of the puzzle and how it fit. She wondered how she would retain it all, but if she could handle her old job, that nobody wanted or could handle apparently as well she could, she could handle a promotion and just keep moving up. She was tired of going in circles and do-overs at places, it was time to move forward and not be afraid of success.
"Here is some of what you may find useful," she was told, with different pieces tossed at her. She knew better than to panic. She would figure her way, ask questions, and ask for sit-down time with each person, to get an idea to each piece of the puzzle and how it fit. She wondered how she would retain it all, but if she could handle her old job, that nobody wanted or could handle apparently as well she could, she could handle a promotion and just keep moving up. She was tired of going in circles and do-overs at places, it was time to move forward and not be afraid of success.
Day 10
A performance appraisal reminder sent department wide with a deadline date highlighted, arrived in her email inbox. This was the prime opportunity to inquire about getting more detailed information about her promotion once and for all. Would she have to fill out this appraisal since she just got promoted? Perfect scenario to ask, she thought. She wrote a quick inquiry to her seemingly former supervisor and added that they needed to talk.
The reply came stating agreement on talking. Within ten minutes she was in her former boss' office, behind closed doors, and the talk began. "I believe I already said everything about this last time," former boss said, with a smile playing on their lips. She merely nodded, looking her in the eye. "What is it you want to know? asked the former boss.
"Specifics. I have no enddate, no numbers, no figures, just a generalized statement. A lot of words but really no firm details....about anything. I need more than that if I'm being asked to make a decision and give a specific answer about whether I want this promotion. I have no details to work with."
The boss answered, "Everything will take some time to process. Your position up to this point, the new one, didn't exist before, so that has to be created, which has to go and be approved by others. It IS a promotion, and the determination on the salary and what level is something that is assessed." "How long will it be? Two weeks, a month? January?" she asked, trying to keep the pushiness out of her voice.
All she got was a headshake, and the ex-boss peering at their computer screen, to check some site to see if any indicator had shown up. "I've been checking every day, once a day, except today," the ex-boss said, and then they turned to face her. "Until I get the information, there's not much else to say." The ex-boss went on, "I know you worked hard, without complaint."
"Do I still have to fill out that performance appraisal? I mean, as what? I'm no longer in the old position, according to what we've talked about." "Yes, you do have to fill it out, and fill it as if you were in the old position, you have to detail what you did there, which I know was a lot, you helping me and all." the ex-boss admitted.
"And...does this mean I lose out on the potential increase or bonus I would've gotten?" she asked. "I could see what I could do...having the bonus, you would be considered because you have worked very hard and done a lot. You of several people here would deserve a bonus."
She explained, "I'm working on the same salary I made in the prior position. I do all the work asked of me, the work is not the issue. Even if this is a trial run, will I get retroactive pay?" The ex-boss nodded slightly, "We would have to figure that out, it may not be all that is due you,there is a cut-off date."
Fighting incredulousness, she said, "I'm just trying to get information, and it's just all very general, there's nothing for me to hold on to, and it's a lot of maybes I hear." Her ex-boss looked her in the eye and said that they would be fair, and that she would be taken care of.
This only worried her further. Nothing in writing, a verbal conversation with a lot of non-specifics like dates, numbers, a timeline that actuallly had an end date, these things were not forthcoming and she wondered what the hell she had to trust on. The department was notorious for cutting people and leading them on. One had been working there two years with very little to show for it except being just one of the work mules for her ex-boss and she had just extricated herself from becoming yet another mule. Or did she? What if it was all just simply bullshit to buy time and fuck her over? Who was to say they would drag this until the next quarter or try to blackball her or try to underpay her a decent salary?
The ex-boss seemed to read her thoughts, "Listen, I will be fair and I take care of you. It will all work out." For who? The department or her? "I have concerns, and this is all very...nebulous, I have to say it's not concrete, so I worry." she answered. She left the office with very little information. It was nice to have a conversation but essentially there was nothing relevant detail wise for her to hold on to. No guarantees, nothing in writing left her one nervous nelly.
She told herself to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach that she was being delayed and played. The only other option was to quit and move on or find another job elsewhere and move on altogether. The frustrating thought that her time and talent and hard work ethic was being wasted on these fuckers crept into her mind. She brushed it away. Maybe she was being too negative. Maybe...just maybe, her ex-boss would surprise her in a positive way. Or maybe not. For now she had a job, lowpaying, but hers for now.
She would continue this time to learn her new job, and look to getting the proactive pay (they had to find a way to creatively rename it if they couldn't give her all her proactive pay due her but still pay her) and the increase she would have gotten at her prior position somehow reflected in addition to her promotion increase in pay. Somehow, she thought, it would all turn out alright. Somehow. She had to believe. So far, her employer was asking to have some faith.
OK. Let's see.
The reply came stating agreement on talking. Within ten minutes she was in her former boss' office, behind closed doors, and the talk began. "I believe I already said everything about this last time," former boss said, with a smile playing on their lips. She merely nodded, looking her in the eye. "What is it you want to know? asked the former boss.
"Specifics. I have no enddate, no numbers, no figures, just a generalized statement. A lot of words but really no firm details....about anything. I need more than that if I'm being asked to make a decision and give a specific answer about whether I want this promotion. I have no details to work with."
The boss answered, "Everything will take some time to process. Your position up to this point, the new one, didn't exist before, so that has to be created, which has to go and be approved by others. It IS a promotion, and the determination on the salary and what level is something that is assessed." "How long will it be? Two weeks, a month? January?" she asked, trying to keep the pushiness out of her voice.
All she got was a headshake, and the ex-boss peering at their computer screen, to check some site to see if any indicator had shown up. "I've been checking every day, once a day, except today," the ex-boss said, and then they turned to face her. "Until I get the information, there's not much else to say." The ex-boss went on, "I know you worked hard, without complaint."
"Do I still have to fill out that performance appraisal? I mean, as what? I'm no longer in the old position, according to what we've talked about." "Yes, you do have to fill it out, and fill it as if you were in the old position, you have to detail what you did there, which I know was a lot, you helping me and all." the ex-boss admitted.
"And...does this mean I lose out on the potential increase or bonus I would've gotten?" she asked. "I could see what I could do...having the bonus, you would be considered because you have worked very hard and done a lot. You of several people here would deserve a bonus."
She explained, "I'm working on the same salary I made in the prior position. I do all the work asked of me, the work is not the issue. Even if this is a trial run, will I get retroactive pay?" The ex-boss nodded slightly, "We would have to figure that out, it may not be all that is due you,there is a cut-off date."
Fighting incredulousness, she said, "I'm just trying to get information, and it's just all very general, there's nothing for me to hold on to, and it's a lot of maybes I hear." Her ex-boss looked her in the eye and said that they would be fair, and that she would be taken care of.
This only worried her further. Nothing in writing, a verbal conversation with a lot of non-specifics like dates, numbers, a timeline that actuallly had an end date, these things were not forthcoming and she wondered what the hell she had to trust on. The department was notorious for cutting people and leading them on. One had been working there two years with very little to show for it except being just one of the work mules for her ex-boss and she had just extricated herself from becoming yet another mule. Or did she? What if it was all just simply bullshit to buy time and fuck her over? Who was to say they would drag this until the next quarter or try to blackball her or try to underpay her a decent salary?
The ex-boss seemed to read her thoughts, "Listen, I will be fair and I take care of you. It will all work out." For who? The department or her? "I have concerns, and this is all very...nebulous, I have to say it's not concrete, so I worry." she answered. She left the office with very little information. It was nice to have a conversation but essentially there was nothing relevant detail wise for her to hold on to. No guarantees, nothing in writing left her one nervous nelly.
She told herself to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach that she was being delayed and played. The only other option was to quit and move on or find another job elsewhere and move on altogether. The frustrating thought that her time and talent and hard work ethic was being wasted on these fuckers crept into her mind. She brushed it away. Maybe she was being too negative. Maybe...just maybe, her ex-boss would surprise her in a positive way. Or maybe not. For now she had a job, lowpaying, but hers for now.
She would continue this time to learn her new job, and look to getting the proactive pay (they had to find a way to creatively rename it if they couldn't give her all her proactive pay due her but still pay her) and the increase she would have gotten at her prior position somehow reflected in addition to her promotion increase in pay. Somehow, she thought, it would all turn out alright. Somehow. She had to believe. So far, her employer was asking to have some faith.
OK. Let's see.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Day 9
When she walked into work, she knew she wouldn't see a reply email to her inquiry. But she had made her stance clear, and if there were any questions, the invitation to meet to talk should have sealed the deal. But a part of her knew that her boss would not be warm to the invitation or inquiry. As she sat at her new desk, her boss happened to come in to the office, avoided her eyes and walked to the cubicle right next to her and went to fiddle with a phone installation she didn't have equipment to fix it with.
She had to call her name three times and indicate she was asking about a question on how to address another employee's time out, in order for her boss to say, "oh," turn around and face her to answer her question. Once the question was answered, her boss turned, literally, her back to her and kept fiddling with the phone.
As soon as her boss saw she was busy with a client and distracted, the boss made a dash out the door, never to return. The next day, her boss came to talk shop with her new boss' associate, then took off again. She made a point of saying hello, and went about her business. She would see her at her offices tomorrow, as she would be covering for her old post, as her boss was supposedly looking for a new replacement. She would bide her time, let her boss stew and wonder.
After she got her things together and took care of some work, she went about planning on how to approach her soon to be former boss on what her new salary would be. She approached someone as a mentor to see what feedback she could get on what to say, what to expect when she approached her boss.
The mentor gave her some very good advice, to simply touch on whether her soon to be ex boss had seen her email, and inquire about the salary issue. The mentor stated to observe the response, and then based on the answer, or lack of one, simply send a follow-up email stating "per our conversation today, in order to make a fully informed decision, I would need the following information to complete the picture," or something to that effect.
She nodded, relieved, as she relayed her reservations on how her boss would treat her, and noted how others didn't fare as well despite being well thought of in the department. The mentor simply focused her thoughts on what was important, what she was concerned about, the lack of information such as the salary and what her job description, title and level would be. After discussing a few minutes more, she got a better picture from her mentor what she should look at, what should be addressed, and what could be negotiated or be brought up as negotiation points when the time comes.
It was a revealing and informative conversation. Relieved and armed with a plan, she thanked her mentor and moved on, her mind clear and focused. The only thing that could put a slight pause on her getting her agenda done would be if her boss didn't show up the next day when she would be covering her old desk for the day. She decided, enough of that, and she would think about it tomorrow. Tonight it was to go to the gym, get a good workout, eat dinner, and have a good rest to prepare for tomorrow's day.
She had to call her name three times and indicate she was asking about a question on how to address another employee's time out, in order for her boss to say, "oh," turn around and face her to answer her question. Once the question was answered, her boss turned, literally, her back to her and kept fiddling with the phone.
As soon as her boss saw she was busy with a client and distracted, the boss made a dash out the door, never to return. The next day, her boss came to talk shop with her new boss' associate, then took off again. She made a point of saying hello, and went about her business. She would see her at her offices tomorrow, as she would be covering for her old post, as her boss was supposedly looking for a new replacement. She would bide her time, let her boss stew and wonder.
After she got her things together and took care of some work, she went about planning on how to approach her soon to be former boss on what her new salary would be. She approached someone as a mentor to see what feedback she could get on what to say, what to expect when she approached her boss.
The mentor gave her some very good advice, to simply touch on whether her soon to be ex boss had seen her email, and inquire about the salary issue. The mentor stated to observe the response, and then based on the answer, or lack of one, simply send a follow-up email stating "per our conversation today, in order to make a fully informed decision, I would need the following information to complete the picture," or something to that effect.
She nodded, relieved, as she relayed her reservations on how her boss would treat her, and noted how others didn't fare as well despite being well thought of in the department. The mentor simply focused her thoughts on what was important, what she was concerned about, the lack of information such as the salary and what her job description, title and level would be. After discussing a few minutes more, she got a better picture from her mentor what she should look at, what should be addressed, and what could be negotiated or be brought up as negotiation points when the time comes.
It was a revealing and informative conversation. Relieved and armed with a plan, she thanked her mentor and moved on, her mind clear and focused. The only thing that could put a slight pause on her getting her agenda done would be if her boss didn't show up the next day when she would be covering her old desk for the day. She decided, enough of that, and she would think about it tomorrow. Tonight it was to go to the gym, get a good workout, eat dinner, and have a good rest to prepare for tomorrow's day.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Day 8
She thought of when she went in to work and got her promotion. It wasn't without chasing her former boss over it, who had been approached by her soon to be new boss a month before -- in an email. Then a follow-up email took place and she found herself being asked by the secretary whether she 'had heard anything' or had "been approached" by her boss. She admitted she had not, and was then advised emails had gone unanswered by her boss. This surprised her and at the same time, brought a frown to her face and some concern. Would her boss really smile in her face, say she was a good worker, and wouldn't stand in the way if some new promotion came along, only to show otherwise with passive aggressive action?
Would her boss truly veto a pass for her to move up and onward? If so, what was her boss willing to counter with? She waited a week to hear anything, and the secretary came to her again and said her boss had not heard anything, and that she may have to confront her boss about her interest in the new gig.
She went to speak to her boss, and asked for some time to talk about a potential opportunity with the department, only to be blown off for yet another week with no response. The supervisor would answer any other question but nothing relating to her email inquiry. She then decided it was time to take things into her own hands, and asked for five minutes to speak with her boss. She told her boss about being approached with a new opportunity, and what did the boss think or want to do? She was basically opening the door, giving her boss first dibs to come up with an offer, or at least something to make her think twice about considering taking on this new position.
Her boss shrugged her shoulders and stated she had nothing to give her, and was not expected to hire anybody. She was again a bit surprised and a little sad, because she had figured she would get a story but she was still hoping that her boss would tell the truth or at least come with a counter. Her boss stated if this was something she wanted to do, then that's it.
She stood expectantly, waiting for her boss to come with something, but it was clear her boss wasn't going to blink today. She nodded, and stated it was something she would like to consider going to, but just wanted to run it by her to get her thoughts as she had worked closely with her for the past year and a half.
Her boss stated she would make some inquiries and 'start the process'. They left it at that, and she went back to her desk, with her "thank you" to her boss still hanging in the air as she went back to her desk. It seemed too simple, too adult, too clean, too matter of fact. But she had to think for herself and look out for herself. She had left the door open to her boss and gave her boss the opportunity to come up with even a "let's touch base on Monday, I have to think about this," ...just...SOMETHING, to show that she didn't want to lose her on her team, and that she really was going to think about it.
Instead, her boss seemed resigned. Or simply didn't believe it and thought it would blow over.
Her boss came to her on a Friday and advised that she was heading on vacation, but just wanted to break the news that the other department did indeed want to offer her a position working with a new boss -- she gave the name -- and if she was still interested? Yes, she stated simply. Her boss just looked her in the face as if seeing her for the first time. "Ok, we'll start the process and put up the notice for your old spot when I get back. On Monday, you report to your new department," she stated, and that was the end of the conversation.
Again, it seemed cut and dry, simple, simply done. She felt she could breathe a sigh of relief. It was really happening, she thought, with little to no drama. She went home that day excited and a bit scared. But it was a good feeling. She was moving forward. She felt also a little sad, because she wondered why her old boss didn't come with anything to offer.
Would her boss truly veto a pass for her to move up and onward? If so, what was her boss willing to counter with? She waited a week to hear anything, and the secretary came to her again and said her boss had not heard anything, and that she may have to confront her boss about her interest in the new gig.
She went to speak to her boss, and asked for some time to talk about a potential opportunity with the department, only to be blown off for yet another week with no response. The supervisor would answer any other question but nothing relating to her email inquiry. She then decided it was time to take things into her own hands, and asked for five minutes to speak with her boss. She told her boss about being approached with a new opportunity, and what did the boss think or want to do? She was basically opening the door, giving her boss first dibs to come up with an offer, or at least something to make her think twice about considering taking on this new position.
Her boss shrugged her shoulders and stated she had nothing to give her, and was not expected to hire anybody. She was again a bit surprised and a little sad, because she had figured she would get a story but she was still hoping that her boss would tell the truth or at least come with a counter. Her boss stated if this was something she wanted to do, then that's it.
She stood expectantly, waiting for her boss to come with something, but it was clear her boss wasn't going to blink today. She nodded, and stated it was something she would like to consider going to, but just wanted to run it by her to get her thoughts as she had worked closely with her for the past year and a half.
Her boss stated she would make some inquiries and 'start the process'. They left it at that, and she went back to her desk, with her "thank you" to her boss still hanging in the air as she went back to her desk. It seemed too simple, too adult, too clean, too matter of fact. But she had to think for herself and look out for herself. She had left the door open to her boss and gave her boss the opportunity to come up with even a "let's touch base on Monday, I have to think about this," ...just...SOMETHING, to show that she didn't want to lose her on her team, and that she really was going to think about it.
Instead, her boss seemed resigned. Or simply didn't believe it and thought it would blow over.
Her boss came to her on a Friday and advised that she was heading on vacation, but just wanted to break the news that the other department did indeed want to offer her a position working with a new boss -- she gave the name -- and if she was still interested? Yes, she stated simply. Her boss just looked her in the face as if seeing her for the first time. "Ok, we'll start the process and put up the notice for your old spot when I get back. On Monday, you report to your new department," she stated, and that was the end of the conversation.
Again, it seemed cut and dry, simple, simply done. She felt she could breathe a sigh of relief. It was really happening, she thought, with little to no drama. She went home that day excited and a bit scared. But it was a good feeling. She was moving forward. She felt also a little sad, because she wondered why her old boss didn't come with anything to offer.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Day 7
Thoughts lead back to her home situation. She was currently paying rent for a room in an apartment she was in with her aunt and she was helping her cousin rent a new place in turn downtown. Without her help financially with the place with her aunt, her cousin would not have been able to leave with peace of mind to rent the new place. While her cousin insisted the new place was theirs to share, she didn't really push to put any of her personality or things there beyond some clothing and toiletries, because she believed her cousin really needed to have a place of her and truly experience that so she could understand what it meant to be on her own.
She had been on her own for so long, she appreciated having use of the toilet and having a space to call one's own, and only felt it was a fitting gift to not intrude too much into her cousin's new place. Her cousin would be nearby, but if there were any issues, she could easily get in a cab or on the train and be there in minutes to check in on her or even stay overnight if her cousin was having a bad night. Her cousin had multiple health issues, but was fairly independent, just needed that extra insurance in case her cousin needed anything.
She was proud of her cousin, who had also just started going back to school after a decades long absence. She could see the independence growing in her cousin, and she was very proud and happy for her. She knew her cousin needed this and deserved it. Her hope was the co-dependence issues would lighten considerably once her cousin got a good taste of going back to school and having her own place, that it would snap her back to her true reality of where she should have been all along and get out there in the world, socialize, build relationships, and live her life without being at the mercy of family members who used guilt and obligation to control her cousin.
When she would come home, her dog would be in her aunt's room, so she would have no choice but to call the dog, who by now was old and couldn't jump up or down from furniture easily. The dog had to be lifted or carried. One time she came home and called out to the dog and didn't hear anything. Her aunt was in the kitchen, bustling about. She saw the dog staring at her from her aunt's open bedroom door. The dog was on the bed but could not climb down. She had the dog's coat in her hand, and put it on the dog and picked the dog up and put her down on the floor, and walked out.
Her aunt was surprised to see her in the room and waited for her to leave with the dog. Once her cousin came home, her aunt complained about being surprised about seeing anyone in her room.
When she got home from walking the dog and picking up dog supplies like wee wee pads and snacks, she was immediately greeted by her cousin, who informed her that going into the aunt's room was a no-no, and that she had essentially 'frightened' the poor aunt, who had emphasized to the cousin about almost having a heart attack.
She was unsure why her cousin would even bother stating anything about this, considering that her cousin knew how dramatic her aunt could be. The aunt made it sound like she had simply sashayed in there and made it her home and hung out with the dog, when everything was done under a minute - she hadn't even secured the dog's coat with the velcro, simply put it on and picked the dog up and put down in one fell swoop.
She just stood still, as she was still in the process of taking her coat off when her cousin relayed the story. And she could only sigh and reply, "Well, I had made noise coming in to the house, had even made a noise for the dog to come to me and she hadn't, so I followed to see where she was, heard your mom in the kitchen, and went into the room because the dog was staring at me from the bed which is JUST inside the bedroom door."
"Did you have to put her coat on? You could have just grabbed her and gotten out of the room," her cousin said. So it was her fault. Again. How stupid of her to look for her dog and go take her for a fucking walk. Everything was a drama as far as the aunt was concerned, who had no job, no man and no life, so would basically make it her business to stir up everybody else who actually had lives and things to do. How easily she could make her cousin, an otherwise sane and smart grown woman, a fucking puppet who would become transformed into an anxious furtive unrecognizable creature who cowered in the darkness and would allow her mother to bully her until she finally would snap and let unleash her anger which would give her a break a couple of days from the annoying aunt but never did solve the problem, it would just repeat, endlessly, as it had been this way for years.
This is why she found it so vitally important that her cousin went back to school and got a place she could call her own. She had to reinforce to her long-suffering that she did not need to put up with familial abuse and did not have to cater to anyone's ignorance, loneliness or fear. If her cousin's mother got too stupid, the cousin could escape, and decide whether or not to pick up the phone when her mother would call (and you could bet she would if she didn't hear or see anything or her in an hour). Her cousin disliked her mother's behavior but she also was used to it, and knew this was the mother's way of showing care.
Meanwhile, this left her as the odd one out, and the cousin would act as the buffer when the aunt was displeased about something and had something to say. The aunt had long worn out her welcome as far as she was concerned, but was continuing to help pay her rent in order to continue having a convenient spot near her work place. However, she didn't have much freedom, could not invite people over, and was not allowed to linger in the living room or kitchen. The kitchen was an issue, as that was a communal space, but to the aunt this did not matter. The aunt was not the best housekeeper in the world, but she could live with peanut butter smears on the knives as she made them.
Once in a while, she would take all the utensils, and put them in a tub of hot water and bleach and clean them thoroughly and put them back in the rack once she was done washing them. Her aunt would then complain that someone touched the utensils, never adding a thanks for cleaning them. She had to buy her own pots, pans and knives to cook with because her aunt was particular about anyone using her things, even though her aunt's stuff was usually notoriously spotted or had specks of hardened food on them, and she found herself re-cleaning her aunt's stuff when she had to use them. She would leave them spotless but the aunt would still find something to complain about. She would clean off the stove, clean out the sink, but god help her if she left something wrapped in a plastic in the refrigerator, as the aunt found that sloppy!
Yet looking inside the fridge, it cried out for a good bleaching and cleaning from long ago spills and just generally dust that got in from the opening and closing of the door. The aunt would ignore that, and continue to bitch and moan about anyone else using any space she considered hers yet her aunt could barely scrape the 1/3 of the rent she was required to pay up to recently, when her cousin finally moved out and reminded the aunt that now the aunt would have to start paying 1/2 the rent, which upset the aunt greatly -- the aunt would have to cut down her spending sprees at garden places and 99 cent stores and ordering through clothing and wig catalogs.
Meanwhile, despite paying half the rent and hardly home because she worked full-time, she would clean the shared communal space of the bathroom, which the aunt basically neglected even more than the kitchen. She and her cousin would take turns cleaning the bathtub, and she would clean the toilet and sink and rid it of hair, toothpast gobs, and other stains. She would run a quick duster on the floor to pick up all the stray hairs that would collect into mounds if you let it, because the aunt didn't "see" this collection and would just use the bathroom and keep it moving yet would bitch if the toilet paper ran out and hide a roll in her room to punish people in the house for "going through" the toilet paper so quickly. She would pick up two rolls for situations like this and re-stock the bathroom as well as keep an extra roll in her room for whenever her aunt would decide to get stupid and ignore the theatrics.
She would rather laugh and keep it moving, but this annoyed her aunt. Her aunt felt it was disrespectful to laugh, and took it as a challenge to her authority. Of course she wanted to commit the aunt but her cousin would not hear of it. Her cousin's guilt would crush her and her cousin preferred to play martyr than to be practical and realize abuse is abuse whether it's a family member or a stranger doing it and let her aunt run the show.
She found herself getting angry with these thoughts. Eventually a decision would have to be made and only her cousin had the key to stop the bullshit once and for all. She reminded herself that her cousin was getting to see what she had been missing all these years, and she wanted to give her cousin the chance to relax and breathe, as her cousin had given her, and then to see where the chips would fall once school was done. Her cousin would have to decide what she wanted to do with her life, and if that meant continuing to care for her mother, there was nothing she could say or do about it. But she would leave, her obligation done. She gave her cousin the chance to figure things out, and that was the biggest show of love she could give her cousin. If her cousin wanted to go back to the way things used to be, that was her business and her right but SHE would extract herself from the equation and move on. Let someone else have the headache and heartache, she would be free.
She had been on her own for so long, she appreciated having use of the toilet and having a space to call one's own, and only felt it was a fitting gift to not intrude too much into her cousin's new place. Her cousin would be nearby, but if there were any issues, she could easily get in a cab or on the train and be there in minutes to check in on her or even stay overnight if her cousin was having a bad night. Her cousin had multiple health issues, but was fairly independent, just needed that extra insurance in case her cousin needed anything.
She was proud of her cousin, who had also just started going back to school after a decades long absence. She could see the independence growing in her cousin, and she was very proud and happy for her. She knew her cousin needed this and deserved it. Her hope was the co-dependence issues would lighten considerably once her cousin got a good taste of going back to school and having her own place, that it would snap her back to her true reality of where she should have been all along and get out there in the world, socialize, build relationships, and live her life without being at the mercy of family members who used guilt and obligation to control her cousin.
When she would come home, her dog would be in her aunt's room, so she would have no choice but to call the dog, who by now was old and couldn't jump up or down from furniture easily. The dog had to be lifted or carried. One time she came home and called out to the dog and didn't hear anything. Her aunt was in the kitchen, bustling about. She saw the dog staring at her from her aunt's open bedroom door. The dog was on the bed but could not climb down. She had the dog's coat in her hand, and put it on the dog and picked the dog up and put her down on the floor, and walked out.
Her aunt was surprised to see her in the room and waited for her to leave with the dog. Once her cousin came home, her aunt complained about being surprised about seeing anyone in her room.
When she got home from walking the dog and picking up dog supplies like wee wee pads and snacks, she was immediately greeted by her cousin, who informed her that going into the aunt's room was a no-no, and that she had essentially 'frightened' the poor aunt, who had emphasized to the cousin about almost having a heart attack.
She was unsure why her cousin would even bother stating anything about this, considering that her cousin knew how dramatic her aunt could be. The aunt made it sound like she had simply sashayed in there and made it her home and hung out with the dog, when everything was done under a minute - she hadn't even secured the dog's coat with the velcro, simply put it on and picked the dog up and put down in one fell swoop.
She just stood still, as she was still in the process of taking her coat off when her cousin relayed the story. And she could only sigh and reply, "Well, I had made noise coming in to the house, had even made a noise for the dog to come to me and she hadn't, so I followed to see where she was, heard your mom in the kitchen, and went into the room because the dog was staring at me from the bed which is JUST inside the bedroom door."
"Did you have to put her coat on? You could have just grabbed her and gotten out of the room," her cousin said. So it was her fault. Again. How stupid of her to look for her dog and go take her for a fucking walk. Everything was a drama as far as the aunt was concerned, who had no job, no man and no life, so would basically make it her business to stir up everybody else who actually had lives and things to do. How easily she could make her cousin, an otherwise sane and smart grown woman, a fucking puppet who would become transformed into an anxious furtive unrecognizable creature who cowered in the darkness and would allow her mother to bully her until she finally would snap and let unleash her anger which would give her a break a couple of days from the annoying aunt but never did solve the problem, it would just repeat, endlessly, as it had been this way for years.
This is why she found it so vitally important that her cousin went back to school and got a place she could call her own. She had to reinforce to her long-suffering that she did not need to put up with familial abuse and did not have to cater to anyone's ignorance, loneliness or fear. If her cousin's mother got too stupid, the cousin could escape, and decide whether or not to pick up the phone when her mother would call (and you could bet she would if she didn't hear or see anything or her in an hour). Her cousin disliked her mother's behavior but she also was used to it, and knew this was the mother's way of showing care.
Meanwhile, this left her as the odd one out, and the cousin would act as the buffer when the aunt was displeased about something and had something to say. The aunt had long worn out her welcome as far as she was concerned, but was continuing to help pay her rent in order to continue having a convenient spot near her work place. However, she didn't have much freedom, could not invite people over, and was not allowed to linger in the living room or kitchen. The kitchen was an issue, as that was a communal space, but to the aunt this did not matter. The aunt was not the best housekeeper in the world, but she could live with peanut butter smears on the knives as she made them.
Once in a while, she would take all the utensils, and put them in a tub of hot water and bleach and clean them thoroughly and put them back in the rack once she was done washing them. Her aunt would then complain that someone touched the utensils, never adding a thanks for cleaning them. She had to buy her own pots, pans and knives to cook with because her aunt was particular about anyone using her things, even though her aunt's stuff was usually notoriously spotted or had specks of hardened food on them, and she found herself re-cleaning her aunt's stuff when she had to use them. She would leave them spotless but the aunt would still find something to complain about. She would clean off the stove, clean out the sink, but god help her if she left something wrapped in a plastic in the refrigerator, as the aunt found that sloppy!
Yet looking inside the fridge, it cried out for a good bleaching and cleaning from long ago spills and just generally dust that got in from the opening and closing of the door. The aunt would ignore that, and continue to bitch and moan about anyone else using any space she considered hers yet her aunt could barely scrape the 1/3 of the rent she was required to pay up to recently, when her cousin finally moved out and reminded the aunt that now the aunt would have to start paying 1/2 the rent, which upset the aunt greatly -- the aunt would have to cut down her spending sprees at garden places and 99 cent stores and ordering through clothing and wig catalogs.
Meanwhile, despite paying half the rent and hardly home because she worked full-time, she would clean the shared communal space of the bathroom, which the aunt basically neglected even more than the kitchen. She and her cousin would take turns cleaning the bathtub, and she would clean the toilet and sink and rid it of hair, toothpast gobs, and other stains. She would run a quick duster on the floor to pick up all the stray hairs that would collect into mounds if you let it, because the aunt didn't "see" this collection and would just use the bathroom and keep it moving yet would bitch if the toilet paper ran out and hide a roll in her room to punish people in the house for "going through" the toilet paper so quickly. She would pick up two rolls for situations like this and re-stock the bathroom as well as keep an extra roll in her room for whenever her aunt would decide to get stupid and ignore the theatrics.
She would rather laugh and keep it moving, but this annoyed her aunt. Her aunt felt it was disrespectful to laugh, and took it as a challenge to her authority. Of course she wanted to commit the aunt but her cousin would not hear of it. Her cousin's guilt would crush her and her cousin preferred to play martyr than to be practical and realize abuse is abuse whether it's a family member or a stranger doing it and let her aunt run the show.
She found herself getting angry with these thoughts. Eventually a decision would have to be made and only her cousin had the key to stop the bullshit once and for all. She reminded herself that her cousin was getting to see what she had been missing all these years, and she wanted to give her cousin the chance to relax and breathe, as her cousin had given her, and then to see where the chips would fall once school was done. Her cousin would have to decide what she wanted to do with her life, and if that meant continuing to care for her mother, there was nothing she could say or do about it. But she would leave, her obligation done. She gave her cousin the chance to figure things out, and that was the biggest show of love she could give her cousin. If her cousin wanted to go back to the way things used to be, that was her business and her right but SHE would extract herself from the equation and move on. Let someone else have the headache and heartache, she would be free.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Day 6
She was hitting the wall. She barely made a week writing any kind of material, and she would lose interest. Looking at a blank piece of paper now was seen as a challenge but also more like a block, a mountain to climb that seemed to get bigger every day. Why was it suddenly not so charming or wonderful to see a blank page? What was worse, why couldn't she stick to something beyond initial creation, seeing something through to its maturity or to the end? She would get stuck and suddenly things weren't fun anymore.
Just as when she joined the gym, she found herself pushing to get to do something that just three days before she was able to do with no problem, it was a pleasure, there was no debate or question, no dragging of the feet. Now that she had challenged herself to write and really stick to it, the discipline was affecting her, the knowing that this was something she had to do, to prove something to herself and feeling the beginnings of disappointment and anger that she was feeling resistance and pressure and that made the process unlikeable and then unpleasant.
She would suddenly worry about things. She would focus on things she couldn't control or things she had seemingly seemed fine with before. Inane projects, half finished projects would suddenly take on meaning, suddenly there was a need to start finishing those projects, and then...she would find herself in the midst of a bunch of unfinished projects, all started, just never finished. It frustrated her and amused those close to her. "Finish what you start," one would say to her, and she would fall into a depression and shut down, all work abandoned, and the projects would just simply take room and gather dust.
She lived in fear of being a hoarder, one of those people who had a psychological problem, who held on to things that just grew into seemingly out of control messes. Could she become one of these people, who kept stuff and just held on to it, never changing, nothing growing except the piles of garbage in their homes, alienating friends and family until they are in their own hell on earth?
Talking to people about her issues sometimes helped. But then she didn't have a large group of people to consult with, and so those few would keep hearing the patterns of her issues everytime she found herself bumping heads with it. All her life she wanted to complete the Great American Novel. No small feat. And apparently somewhat of a tall order to complete. Each year she would resolve to write that novel, that short story. She had written poetry, and got one published. Beyond that, nothing more.
She searched through her purse, looking for something. She pulled out a pen and again opened her blank book. She would write. And write as much as she could, each and every day. It was not about quality but quantity. She would continue to move forward, push the distracting thoughts aside, make the time, make the effort. She smiled, as she put pen to paper and watched the words appear for the first time on the page. Her hand felt sure, her handwriting was strong, unwavering.
She suddenly wasn't thinking about him, she wasn't thinking about the day job, or where her life or relationships were going. Time had stood still or maybe time was just simply not relevant. The time to create was now, and she was just going with the flow, letting the words pour out of her and onto the paper. She didn't want to think, she didn't want to stop, she just wanted to keep on going.
Before she knew it, three pages were filled, and her hand was cramping. She wondered for a second if maybe this was her body trying to stop her. The train was still moving but the sun was in another position now and was shining brightly inside the train car. "What time is it?" she asked. She turned and found him sleeping, in an upright position, head leaning against the train car window. She smiled, and went back to writing two more pages before finding her thoughts petering out. She put her book and pen away, took a deep satisfied sigh, and then drank some water. The break was well deserved, she thought.
She looked out the window from her seat and watched the trees and various greenery go by. They were no longer in the city. She felt her body relax. No concrete to see. No one to bump into. She was free to relax and just observe. As she watched the greenery zip by, she imagined she could fly, catching up to the train, feeling the leaves brush by her as she flew by, racing with the train easily.
It was a thought she'd had since childhood. Flying. Being free. She smiled unknowingly. She glanced at him. He was still sleeping. She carefully put a blanket over him and went to the bathroom then to the snack bar to get some sandwiches and drinks.
Just as when she joined the gym, she found herself pushing to get to do something that just three days before she was able to do with no problem, it was a pleasure, there was no debate or question, no dragging of the feet. Now that she had challenged herself to write and really stick to it, the discipline was affecting her, the knowing that this was something she had to do, to prove something to herself and feeling the beginnings of disappointment and anger that she was feeling resistance and pressure and that made the process unlikeable and then unpleasant.
She would suddenly worry about things. She would focus on things she couldn't control or things she had seemingly seemed fine with before. Inane projects, half finished projects would suddenly take on meaning, suddenly there was a need to start finishing those projects, and then...she would find herself in the midst of a bunch of unfinished projects, all started, just never finished. It frustrated her and amused those close to her. "Finish what you start," one would say to her, and she would fall into a depression and shut down, all work abandoned, and the projects would just simply take room and gather dust.
She lived in fear of being a hoarder, one of those people who had a psychological problem, who held on to things that just grew into seemingly out of control messes. Could she become one of these people, who kept stuff and just held on to it, never changing, nothing growing except the piles of garbage in their homes, alienating friends and family until they are in their own hell on earth?
Talking to people about her issues sometimes helped. But then she didn't have a large group of people to consult with, and so those few would keep hearing the patterns of her issues everytime she found herself bumping heads with it. All her life she wanted to complete the Great American Novel. No small feat. And apparently somewhat of a tall order to complete. Each year she would resolve to write that novel, that short story. She had written poetry, and got one published. Beyond that, nothing more.
She searched through her purse, looking for something. She pulled out a pen and again opened her blank book. She would write. And write as much as she could, each and every day. It was not about quality but quantity. She would continue to move forward, push the distracting thoughts aside, make the time, make the effort. She smiled, as she put pen to paper and watched the words appear for the first time on the page. Her hand felt sure, her handwriting was strong, unwavering.
She suddenly wasn't thinking about him, she wasn't thinking about the day job, or where her life or relationships were going. Time had stood still or maybe time was just simply not relevant. The time to create was now, and she was just going with the flow, letting the words pour out of her and onto the paper. She didn't want to think, she didn't want to stop, she just wanted to keep on going.
Before she knew it, three pages were filled, and her hand was cramping. She wondered for a second if maybe this was her body trying to stop her. The train was still moving but the sun was in another position now and was shining brightly inside the train car. "What time is it?" she asked. She turned and found him sleeping, in an upright position, head leaning against the train car window. She smiled, and went back to writing two more pages before finding her thoughts petering out. She put her book and pen away, took a deep satisfied sigh, and then drank some water. The break was well deserved, she thought.
She looked out the window from her seat and watched the trees and various greenery go by. They were no longer in the city. She felt her body relax. No concrete to see. No one to bump into. She was free to relax and just observe. As she watched the greenery zip by, she imagined she could fly, catching up to the train, feeling the leaves brush by her as she flew by, racing with the train easily.
It was a thought she'd had since childhood. Flying. Being free. She smiled unknowingly. She glanced at him. He was still sleeping. She carefully put a blanket over him and went to the bathroom then to the snack bar to get some sandwiches and drinks.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Day 5
It's dangerous when one's mind tends to wander. Thoughts turned to her apartment. How she found it strange that he had never gone to her place. She had visited his place, but he never had come to hers. Then he just moved to a new place and didn't even tell her where he was living. Yet here they were on a train, as if nothing was amiss. She moved to a new place and he finally was game to go visit. He was polite as she gave him a quick tour. Then she noticed his body language. His torso on down was facing away from her, and his feet told the rest of the story. His feet were pointed directly towards the front door. To leave. Escape. He was uncomfortable or at least wanted to leave as quickly as possible.
She clicked off the television and asked if he was ready to go. "Oh, I'm OK," he said, but then he paused. She walked up behind him and gently leaned over his shoulder. "Remember I told you about that body language book I'm reading?" "Yes," he said. Your body from the torso down is away from me. That's one thing. Second. The bottom part of your body is facing one direction. Towards the front door, see?" "That's not true," he said with a gentle laugh. "Oh yes, look at your feet," she explained. "So?" he asked. She leaned further in and said, "Look at the line of vision. Your feet are perfectly pointed towards the front door." He laughed out loud. "It's OK. Let's go." she turned off the television and picked up her purse and keys. She checked the lights and plugs and made sure she locked the door after them.
She had never taken a psychology class but was interested in learning about it. She found she had difficulty reading people, especially men, and decided she was going to do something about it. She started buying books and studied them. She compared notes to her real life interactions. Viewing the world like one big experiment.
The train jolted her back to the present. He pulled out some grapes. "Do you want any?" he asked. "Sure," she took a handful and continued to read her book. He suddenly wanted to chat.
She remembered something her mother had told her a long time ago. That being with a man was akin to being in a room with a large balloon and trying to put a second balloon inside. There would not be enough room for both balloons -- one kept getting bigger while the other had to get smaller. She concluded that there's only room in the space for one balloon. A woman, in this scenario, was the shrinking balloon. "It's a gradual thing," her mother noted, with a tinge of sadness.
When it came to him, she noticed she would make time for him. When he wanted to talk, she would listen. He didn't confide in her often, that would require him lowering his guard and feeling comfortable enough to let loose his thoughts. It seemed easy for her to put things aside for him. A thought occurred -- she needed to ask herself why.
She clicked off the television and asked if he was ready to go. "Oh, I'm OK," he said, but then he paused. She walked up behind him and gently leaned over his shoulder. "Remember I told you about that body language book I'm reading?" "Yes," he said. Your body from the torso down is away from me. That's one thing. Second. The bottom part of your body is facing one direction. Towards the front door, see?" "That's not true," he said with a gentle laugh. "Oh yes, look at your feet," she explained. "So?" he asked. She leaned further in and said, "Look at the line of vision. Your feet are perfectly pointed towards the front door." He laughed out loud. "It's OK. Let's go." she turned off the television and picked up her purse and keys. She checked the lights and plugs and made sure she locked the door after them.
She had never taken a psychology class but was interested in learning about it. She found she had difficulty reading people, especially men, and decided she was going to do something about it. She started buying books and studied them. She compared notes to her real life interactions. Viewing the world like one big experiment.
The train jolted her back to the present. He pulled out some grapes. "Do you want any?" he asked. "Sure," she took a handful and continued to read her book. He suddenly wanted to chat.
She remembered something her mother had told her a long time ago. That being with a man was akin to being in a room with a large balloon and trying to put a second balloon inside. There would not be enough room for both balloons -- one kept getting bigger while the other had to get smaller. She concluded that there's only room in the space for one balloon. A woman, in this scenario, was the shrinking balloon. "It's a gradual thing," her mother noted, with a tinge of sadness.
When it came to him, she noticed she would make time for him. When he wanted to talk, she would listen. He didn't confide in her often, that would require him lowering his guard and feeling comfortable enough to let loose his thoughts. It seemed easy for her to put things aside for him. A thought occurred -- she needed to ask herself why.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Day 4
Her phone rang. It was his ringtone so she knew it was him. "Hi," she said. "Hi, what you are up to?" "Behaving," she replied, jokingly. "Do you have plans this weekend?" "Not really, why?" There was a pause. "I'm plannnig a short trip, an overnight one, to check out a show. Do you want to go?" "Sure. How are you getting there?"
Before she knew it, she was buying her train tickets online and packing an overnight bag to meet him at the train station for an 8 am departure. "You made it," he said, looking relieved as she walked up to him with a grin on her face. "Yeah, of course," she said, and they hugged. "You have your ticket?" he asked. She nodded, "Yup, you?" They walked to the departure gate and waited to get on the train.
As they found a comfortable spot for themselves, he immediately pulled out his electronic toy and started typing away, no sooner their bags had been put away and they got into their seats. He was making last minute checks on the office, and once the train started, he would be done with catching up on work and focusing on the weekend. He pulled out a museum flyer and put it in her hand. "Thought we might go to this," he said, as he continued to text and type, not breaking his stride.
She looked it over. Indeed it looked interesting, she thought. "Can we go to this?" she asked. "Sure," he said. She checked her phone for any messages, texted family that she was on the train and she was fine, then settled into her seat. She was looking foward to this trip, and was feeling good.
The conductor announced the closing of the train doors over the PA system. People hurried to their chosen seats. Then the doors closed and the train started moving out of the train station. Once the train started moving out of the tunnel and into the daylight, she could relax and settle into her chair. He was still typing away, still...checking.
She wondered what his life was like. Again. Was it really so busy? It didn't seem that busy. She continued to try to brush her wonderings aside. She would ask him what was going on, but it seemed he had a trained answer for her, short and to the point, as if they were polite strangers talking about the weather out of sheer boredom to acknowledge each other.
He finally put down the electronic device to go find a bathroom. "I'm a little thirsty -- do you want anything?" he asked. "A bottle of water would be great," she replied. "OK, anything else?" "Oh, no thanks." she smiled at him. He took off and she figured he'd be gone a good ten minutes so she occupied herself with reading the book the brought.
After a couple of pages, her mind turned to thoughts of meeting men. Here she was, riding a train with the one man who she felt was her equal and who was his best friend. Yet she saw how he had been in what were intimate relationships with other people and it didn't pan out well. "He's not dependable," echoed Lily's voice in her head. She shook her head as if to shake the thought from her mind. She never considered him because there was nothing to consider. He was her friend and she was comfortable with the way things were between them.
She thought Lily was crazy to discuss him because she was clear where she stood with him. Romance just confused and clouded things that were refreshingly clear. "If we weren't friends, would we be lovers?" she thought. Probably not. He was very particular and she would sometimes wince when he would talk about why it didn't work out with the last lover he had. Too clingy, not enough of their own life, too independent, too controlling, too weak, too young, too old. The list just went on and on.
She pulled out a notepad and pen and started work on her her latest novel project. She was determined to write more than a 1,000 words a day, just any kind of nonsense that came into mind. She wrote a description on how he looked, "tight casual jeans, nice colored shirt, crisp and clean in a complimentary purple color that matched his skin tone," and she found she couldn't continue the train of thought. She sighed, and looked out the window, and wondered if she was a fool to try to discipline herself in this practice of writing, what was the point? It was a discipline and she was admittedly lousy at it. She had tried writing in fits and starts. She always said that she could sit down and bang out ten pages in one sitting, then not be able to write for weeks or months after, barely squeezing out a paragraph like one squeezes the last bit of precious toothpaste out of a tube.
"This is stupid," she wrote, "I keep writing things, long tangents of thought, and they never lead anywhere, they never develop into something bigger, something more, something cohesive, something--" she looked up for a second to see herself being presented with a nice cold bottle of water. Oh yeah, she thought, "finished." She wrote, snapped the notebook shut, and took the bottle of water, "Thank you!" she said.
He sat next to her. He was actually going to eat something and not go immediately to his electronic toy! This thought brought a smile to her and he unwrapped his sandwich and began to eat. "What are you writing?" he asked casually. He knew of her writing struggles. "I figured I would just write whatever came to mind..." she said, her voice trailed off as she suddenly felt self-conscious.
"How far have you gotten?" he asked. "Not far," she admitted. "It's the way it is," he responded. He waited a beat, then asked, "Is it OK if I get on my email?" "Sure, I've got to keep at this writing thing anyway," she answered. She opened her book, and looked at a blank page. She loved the smell of paper, the promise of an empty page, untouched, virgin. Then she would create something on the page, a scribble, a thought, a little drawing. And then she was the creator, the page could not go back to being empty, clean, virgin. The page would be as it is, permanently changed, forever. And it was done by her. She had left a mark, she thought. She again stared at the page and let her mind clear.
Okay, what to write what to write what to write? Maybe she should read a book and that would divert her mind to unclench itself and the words and thoughts she was looking for would pour out. Or not, a little voice went in her head. She suddenly had to go to the bathroom. She put her notebook away and left the book on her seat. "Which way's the bathroom?" she asked him. He nodded behind them, "In the next car," he said. "Ok," she got up and went to the restroom. She could never really think on a full bladder, she reasoned as she pulled down her pants and sat on the toilet seat to relieve herself. After a minute or so, she was done, she used some toilet paper and then pulled her pants up. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands. Taking a napkin, she dried her hands and used the same napkin to unlock the bathroom door to let herself out, mindful of how many people may touch the doorknob and wondered how many of them truly washed their hands after using the bathroom.
She did a quick check of herself in the mirror to make sure her pants were OK and no toilet paper was stuck to her shoes before heading out and making her way back to her seat. She pulled open her book and began to read.
Before she knew it, she was buying her train tickets online and packing an overnight bag to meet him at the train station for an 8 am departure. "You made it," he said, looking relieved as she walked up to him with a grin on her face. "Yeah, of course," she said, and they hugged. "You have your ticket?" he asked. She nodded, "Yup, you?" They walked to the departure gate and waited to get on the train.
As they found a comfortable spot for themselves, he immediately pulled out his electronic toy and started typing away, no sooner their bags had been put away and they got into their seats. He was making last minute checks on the office, and once the train started, he would be done with catching up on work and focusing on the weekend. He pulled out a museum flyer and put it in her hand. "Thought we might go to this," he said, as he continued to text and type, not breaking his stride.
She looked it over. Indeed it looked interesting, she thought. "Can we go to this?" she asked. "Sure," he said. She checked her phone for any messages, texted family that she was on the train and she was fine, then settled into her seat. She was looking foward to this trip, and was feeling good.
The conductor announced the closing of the train doors over the PA system. People hurried to their chosen seats. Then the doors closed and the train started moving out of the train station. Once the train started moving out of the tunnel and into the daylight, she could relax and settle into her chair. He was still typing away, still...checking.
She wondered what his life was like. Again. Was it really so busy? It didn't seem that busy. She continued to try to brush her wonderings aside. She would ask him what was going on, but it seemed he had a trained answer for her, short and to the point, as if they were polite strangers talking about the weather out of sheer boredom to acknowledge each other.
He finally put down the electronic device to go find a bathroom. "I'm a little thirsty -- do you want anything?" he asked. "A bottle of water would be great," she replied. "OK, anything else?" "Oh, no thanks." she smiled at him. He took off and she figured he'd be gone a good ten minutes so she occupied herself with reading the book the brought.
After a couple of pages, her mind turned to thoughts of meeting men. Here she was, riding a train with the one man who she felt was her equal and who was his best friend. Yet she saw how he had been in what were intimate relationships with other people and it didn't pan out well. "He's not dependable," echoed Lily's voice in her head. She shook her head as if to shake the thought from her mind. She never considered him because there was nothing to consider. He was her friend and she was comfortable with the way things were between them.
She thought Lily was crazy to discuss him because she was clear where she stood with him. Romance just confused and clouded things that were refreshingly clear. "If we weren't friends, would we be lovers?" she thought. Probably not. He was very particular and she would sometimes wince when he would talk about why it didn't work out with the last lover he had. Too clingy, not enough of their own life, too independent, too controlling, too weak, too young, too old. The list just went on and on.
She pulled out a notepad and pen and started work on her her latest novel project. She was determined to write more than a 1,000 words a day, just any kind of nonsense that came into mind. She wrote a description on how he looked, "tight casual jeans, nice colored shirt, crisp and clean in a complimentary purple color that matched his skin tone," and she found she couldn't continue the train of thought. She sighed, and looked out the window, and wondered if she was a fool to try to discipline herself in this practice of writing, what was the point? It was a discipline and she was admittedly lousy at it. She had tried writing in fits and starts. She always said that she could sit down and bang out ten pages in one sitting, then not be able to write for weeks or months after, barely squeezing out a paragraph like one squeezes the last bit of precious toothpaste out of a tube.
"This is stupid," she wrote, "I keep writing things, long tangents of thought, and they never lead anywhere, they never develop into something bigger, something more, something cohesive, something--" she looked up for a second to see herself being presented with a nice cold bottle of water. Oh yeah, she thought, "finished." She wrote, snapped the notebook shut, and took the bottle of water, "Thank you!" she said.
He sat next to her. He was actually going to eat something and not go immediately to his electronic toy! This thought brought a smile to her and he unwrapped his sandwich and began to eat. "What are you writing?" he asked casually. He knew of her writing struggles. "I figured I would just write whatever came to mind..." she said, her voice trailed off as she suddenly felt self-conscious.
"How far have you gotten?" he asked. "Not far," she admitted. "It's the way it is," he responded. He waited a beat, then asked, "Is it OK if I get on my email?" "Sure, I've got to keep at this writing thing anyway," she answered. She opened her book, and looked at a blank page. She loved the smell of paper, the promise of an empty page, untouched, virgin. Then she would create something on the page, a scribble, a thought, a little drawing. And then she was the creator, the page could not go back to being empty, clean, virgin. The page would be as it is, permanently changed, forever. And it was done by her. She had left a mark, she thought. She again stared at the page and let her mind clear.
Okay, what to write what to write what to write? Maybe she should read a book and that would divert her mind to unclench itself and the words and thoughts she was looking for would pour out. Or not, a little voice went in her head. She suddenly had to go to the bathroom. She put her notebook away and left the book on her seat. "Which way's the bathroom?" she asked him. He nodded behind them, "In the next car," he said. "Ok," she got up and went to the restroom. She could never really think on a full bladder, she reasoned as she pulled down her pants and sat on the toilet seat to relieve herself. After a minute or so, she was done, she used some toilet paper and then pulled her pants up. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands. Taking a napkin, she dried her hands and used the same napkin to unlock the bathroom door to let herself out, mindful of how many people may touch the doorknob and wondered how many of them truly washed their hands after using the bathroom.
She did a quick check of herself in the mirror to make sure her pants were OK and no toilet paper was stuck to her shoes before heading out and making her way back to her seat. She pulled open her book and began to read.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Day 3
Their friendship was based on these quick comings and goings. Passing through each other's lives, checking in, passing the time, before taking off in supposedly more exciting situations and lives. Except her life was fairly quiet. She didn't hang out at all hours, never was the type, and was just as comfortable being home reading a book. As time went on, she noticed he wasn't exactly hanging out every night either, and if he was not at work, he was trying to be in bed asleep by 10 pm, sometimes 9 if he could help it.
Could it be simply time, that they were getting older, and sleep and being homebodies was becoming more attractive, more desirable to them? Except for her, it wasn't about that. While she experienced restlessness and dreamed of just picking up and going with nothing more than a passport, some cash and a toothbrush, she would only occasionally get to actually do that, especially due to her financial situation. She took a pay cut to take an office job that wasn't exactly her cup of tea but she needed to pay her bills.
Her goal of getting back to acting would be put on hold for yet another year. Until she could take some acting classes, see the dentist with that health insurance that came with the job, save some money, work out her gym membership and go union, the world of acting would have to wait. Plus she had met some like-minded people about some issues she was passionate about, mostly community outreach, and she enjoyed volunteering and getting the word out to help her neighbors.
She had her eye on the prize. It would be there, she thought. She felt that confident, she just simply knew. Meanwhile, she also continued to wonder about him. What was he doing, what did he want in life? She was concerned, she was interested.
When she met her friend Lily, her friend had a different take. "He's a bit too self-involved, I don't trust him." she said simply. She was used to hearing Lily give her critical take on things, and he was not an off-limits topic. She welcomed a diverse point of view and would give Lily the floor to expound on her opinions...most of the time. "If he decided to go travel half-way around the world, would you follow him?" Lily asked when she visited her over the weekend.
"If we travelled together, I think he'd be an interesting person to travel with." she answered. "Ok. Do you trust him?" asked Lily. "He's well travelled and yes, I do trust him. I trust him with my life." At that Lily grimly shook her head, "He's flaky, he's unreliable even to meet up with you for an event. He doesn't seem dependable, and if something should happen to you halfway around the world, I don't see him coming to the rescue." "Well, I'm not expecting to get rescued. But if we are together travelling, I know he'd look out for me, he's not that crude, his mom raised him right." she replied, half-laughing. "I think you give him a lot more credit than he deserves, he has yet to prove that," Lily fired back.
At that, she quieted her laughter. "Well, that's what I believe." And she left it at that and changed the subject.
Could it be simply time, that they were getting older, and sleep and being homebodies was becoming more attractive, more desirable to them? Except for her, it wasn't about that. While she experienced restlessness and dreamed of just picking up and going with nothing more than a passport, some cash and a toothbrush, she would only occasionally get to actually do that, especially due to her financial situation. She took a pay cut to take an office job that wasn't exactly her cup of tea but she needed to pay her bills.
Her goal of getting back to acting would be put on hold for yet another year. Until she could take some acting classes, see the dentist with that health insurance that came with the job, save some money, work out her gym membership and go union, the world of acting would have to wait. Plus she had met some like-minded people about some issues she was passionate about, mostly community outreach, and she enjoyed volunteering and getting the word out to help her neighbors.
She had her eye on the prize. It would be there, she thought. She felt that confident, she just simply knew. Meanwhile, she also continued to wonder about him. What was he doing, what did he want in life? She was concerned, she was interested.
When she met her friend Lily, her friend had a different take. "He's a bit too self-involved, I don't trust him." she said simply. She was used to hearing Lily give her critical take on things, and he was not an off-limits topic. She welcomed a diverse point of view and would give Lily the floor to expound on her opinions...most of the time. "If he decided to go travel half-way around the world, would you follow him?" Lily asked when she visited her over the weekend.
"If we travelled together, I think he'd be an interesting person to travel with." she answered. "Ok. Do you trust him?" asked Lily. "He's well travelled and yes, I do trust him. I trust him with my life." At that Lily grimly shook her head, "He's flaky, he's unreliable even to meet up with you for an event. He doesn't seem dependable, and if something should happen to you halfway around the world, I don't see him coming to the rescue." "Well, I'm not expecting to get rescued. But if we are together travelling, I know he'd look out for me, he's not that crude, his mom raised him right." she replied, half-laughing. "I think you give him a lot more credit than he deserves, he has yet to prove that," Lily fired back.
At that, she quieted her laughter. "Well, that's what I believe." And she left it at that and changed the subject.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Second day
The day didn't end on a high note. The rest of the lunch went on in silence. All she could hear was the clinking and clanking of plates and silver utensils and the buzz of all those business people's voices surrounding and running through her. She didn't know what else to say to him, she was suddenly feeling awkward.
Again he was clicking on his electronic screen. She started to sigh then suddenly felt herself tighten. What the hell was it with him and that computer? She wondered if he even wanted to be here having lunch. She decided to say something. "Hey, you think you can give that a break and have some lunch with me?" she said. She inwardly wondered if he thought her needy or pushy. She kept telling herself she was his friend, not his girlfriend, and she knew she could only make so many demands before becoming something of a nuisance.
He looked at her in the eye and studied her for a second. Then put the gadget on the table and picked up his fork and focused on his food. They continued on in silence for another few minutes and sipped wine. Guess he was waiting for her to talk. She liked the silence though. Not every silence had to be filled. Words had to have meaning and a time to be said.
"I'm going to Atlantic City for the weekend," he announced suddenly. She grinned as she chewed. "That's great," she said, and nodded her approval. "You like Atlantic City, don't you?" she asked. "Yes, it's a nice place to get away if only for a little while, not too far away, and the price is right for the bus, don't have to drive." His phone rang again, this time he did not look at it and focused on his meal and her.
"How are your boat trip plans coming along?" she asked, seeing how he suddenly relaxed when the conversation was about things he liked....mostly about himself. "They're set, actually. I leave in a month to Peru. I'll be gone two weeks, it'll be great." He then took a swallow of his wine. "You bringing your camera?" she asked, admiring his get up and go. "Sure, but I'll pack light, not taking a huge lens," he grinned, as they both recalled the last trip they took together and he had rented a humdinger of a lens that took some great pictures but was bulky and way too heavy to walk around too much with.
"That lens got a lot of action didn't it?" he said, still smiling. Yes it had. Several women had approached asking about his camera and the lens, and he was only too happy to talk all about it. One was a professional photographer and she was happy to give her opinion on what lens she would be getting. Of course she was standing there, and it was not exactly being ignored, but came a bit close.
"Several people came up to talk to me," he went on, still smiling. "Yes, women, I recall." She said, letting herself get goaded into where he was going, teasing her. "They all seemed really impressed with the lens," he went on. "Yes, that's what impressed them, the ... lens." He looked tickled, she smiled, and they were doing their gentle teasing and suddenly they were both relaxed and enjoying their lunch.
"Are you planning any trips soon?" he asked, as their lunch was finishing up. "Not in the near future, since starting this new job, I am too busy trying to get ahold of what's going on and want to make a good impression." "You will do fine, you know that, you are good, and they are lucky to have you." he replied simply. He seemed very sure of her skill, and that made her feel proud.
She stated she had to get going, and finished what was left of her wine glass. The lunch was good, very tasty. They split the bill and the tip, and then got up to find her a taxi. "It was good seeing you and having lunch together," she said, as they flagged down a cab fairly quickly. They hugged, "It's great to see you too, text me when you get in the office," he closed the door after her and waved as she drove off.
Again he was clicking on his electronic screen. She started to sigh then suddenly felt herself tighten. What the hell was it with him and that computer? She wondered if he even wanted to be here having lunch. She decided to say something. "Hey, you think you can give that a break and have some lunch with me?" she said. She inwardly wondered if he thought her needy or pushy. She kept telling herself she was his friend, not his girlfriend, and she knew she could only make so many demands before becoming something of a nuisance.
He looked at her in the eye and studied her for a second. Then put the gadget on the table and picked up his fork and focused on his food. They continued on in silence for another few minutes and sipped wine. Guess he was waiting for her to talk. She liked the silence though. Not every silence had to be filled. Words had to have meaning and a time to be said.
"I'm going to Atlantic City for the weekend," he announced suddenly. She grinned as she chewed. "That's great," she said, and nodded her approval. "You like Atlantic City, don't you?" she asked. "Yes, it's a nice place to get away if only for a little while, not too far away, and the price is right for the bus, don't have to drive." His phone rang again, this time he did not look at it and focused on his meal and her.
"How are your boat trip plans coming along?" she asked, seeing how he suddenly relaxed when the conversation was about things he liked....mostly about himself. "They're set, actually. I leave in a month to Peru. I'll be gone two weeks, it'll be great." He then took a swallow of his wine. "You bringing your camera?" she asked, admiring his get up and go. "Sure, but I'll pack light, not taking a huge lens," he grinned, as they both recalled the last trip they took together and he had rented a humdinger of a lens that took some great pictures but was bulky and way too heavy to walk around too much with.
"That lens got a lot of action didn't it?" he said, still smiling. Yes it had. Several women had approached asking about his camera and the lens, and he was only too happy to talk all about it. One was a professional photographer and she was happy to give her opinion on what lens she would be getting. Of course she was standing there, and it was not exactly being ignored, but came a bit close.
"Several people came up to talk to me," he went on, still smiling. "Yes, women, I recall." She said, letting herself get goaded into where he was going, teasing her. "They all seemed really impressed with the lens," he went on. "Yes, that's what impressed them, the ... lens." He looked tickled, she smiled, and they were doing their gentle teasing and suddenly they were both relaxed and enjoying their lunch.
"Are you planning any trips soon?" he asked, as their lunch was finishing up. "Not in the near future, since starting this new job, I am too busy trying to get ahold of what's going on and want to make a good impression." "You will do fine, you know that, you are good, and they are lucky to have you." he replied simply. He seemed very sure of her skill, and that made her feel proud.
She stated she had to get going, and finished what was left of her wine glass. The lunch was good, very tasty. They split the bill and the tip, and then got up to find her a taxi. "It was good seeing you and having lunch together," she said, as they flagged down a cab fairly quickly. They hugged, "It's great to see you too, text me when you get in the office," he closed the door after her and waved as she drove off.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Today is day one of the thirty day test
She joined him for lunch in one of those outdoor restaurants that seemingly crowd midtown Manhattan. Lunch was one of their few favorite pasttimes -- to catch up, enjoy the scenery if things got boring, and try a new place they could tell their other friends in passing later. She noticed him already seated, and he was looking for her. He waved to her and she picked up her walk speed. She sat and grinned at him, as he was already staring at his latest new electronic toy, an e-pad, and he was focusing on the touch screen, moving things quickly across the liquid touch sensitive screen. She waited quietly, she had time to take off her jacket and rest her purse on the table and make herself comfortable. A waiter came over and quickly poured fresh water into a clear glass by her. He meanwhile, continued to tap the screen, making his last minute changes and updates. She inwardly sighed. What could be so important that it needed a last minute tie-up, she wondered, then another thought intruded, as if scolding herself, 'oh why bother, he does this almost all the time, nothing new' and she reached for the menu and silently read it over. She was here to see him and enjoy their time together, however short. Time was about quality not quantity and she wanted to keep things light and civil.
After a minute, he then disengaged from the computer for a couple of seconds to say, "Almost done," and continued to tap his screen. She said calmly, "Take your time," and her voice sounded calm, almost breezy. Proud of herself, she pulled out her Blackberry and checked for any new emails. She quickly started to delete some unnecessary ones, to clean out her email inbox, and that is when she finally heard him focus on her. He had stopped tapping his electronic screen and put it away in his briefcase and set the case under the table by his feet.
She casually looked up, and smiled, expectantly. "Hey, how are you?" he asked, taking a sip of water from his own glass. She answered, "I'm good, thanks. How are you?" "Good." he answered. She took her glass and took a couple of sips of the cool water. It felt good and refreshing. "Have you decided what you wanted?" he asked. "Actually, I barely glanced at it. What are you having?" she asked. "I already ordered some chicken and mushrooms. I've had it before, it's pretty good." "Oh," she said, surprised. She was barely five minutes late and he already got his order in. He must be in a rush, she thought.
She found a grilled salmon and vegetable with rice dish and he motioned for the waiter who took her order along with a glass of wine and disappeared just as quickly as he came.
So he had been here before. Hm, she thought. She glanced around and looked at their fellow 9 to 5-ers, who were there in their crisp suits and dresses and smart haircuts and shoes, talking together and forming an anxious buzz as they tried to make or break a deal.
"So how has your week been? How's work?" she asked. She kept their conversation to topics that she knew he would be comfortable with. Not to say she wasn't genuinely interested, she always was, but she also knew that only so much of a more personal connection was going to be made over a hurried lunch in the middle of a workday. It was enough that they had taken time out of their day and made their way out of their respective offices to meet halfway at this place.
Well, technically, the place was only an avenue and some blocks away from where he worked. She would have a train or taxi ride to get her back further uptown to where her job was situated -- which cut the lunch time down another fifteen minutes if she wanted to make headway on the cab getting her back in decent time.
He noticed thoughts passing through her face quickly, her face getting anxious, serious, thoughtful, then lightening. Sometimes he wondered if she even paid attention to what he said, but he knew the answer. She heard a lot, sometimes, more than she cared to admit. She never made a move, she never pushed, and in that respect she was very easy to get along with. She didn't place demands on him, and any time he had she was willing to work with. Any time he wanted a non dramatic hangout, he knew he could call on her and 9 times out of 10 she would agree to hang out.
She prided herself on not being too high maintenance but in reality, she was in a few ways. She didn't like anyone being late, she didn't like being lied to, and after canceling on her a few times, she will eventually make her anger known. He liked to push anyway, because in the end, she knew they were friends and that there was not much she was going to demand because of that.
After fifteen minutes, their food finally came out. He had taken it upon himself to order a simple salad appetizer, and they picked at it. "Work is work, same old same old," he said, with a shrug. "How is married life?" she asked, as she went to take a healthy bite of salad. "It's OK. She's OK. It's all good." He ended the sentence with a deep thud, as if to say, "Don't ask anymore beyond that because the wife doesn't like you to know and you know it," and she made a little satisfied sound, "That's good about work and the wife. Let her know I said hi," she said brightly. What she really meant was, "Say hi to her to let her know I'm still here."
His latest love was a bit of a screecher in that she seemed to yell at him at whatever he was planning to do, whether it was to work, look for a new job, or figure out what his next steps were going to be in anything. They weren't officially married, but as far as she was concerned, they might as well be. She made it clear to him that she wasn't going anywhere and that she was staying in his life forever. She then made a point to tell his female friend that too, and then politely stated that she was going to take care of him.
Being his friend, she knew better than to say anything, so she just smiled and nodded, and said that's good, and left it at that. As far as she was concerned, this wasn't a competition contest and she was never in the running anyway. Being his friend was better than being in his bed, time had shown her all the ones just like her that came before her, all professing their undying love, only for him to get bored or somehow things just fell apart and then it was just him and her again, friends.
"How is work for you?" he asked gently, as if to nudge her from her thoughts. She was smiling to herself. He loved her smile, he just wished she wasn't so guarded about her smile and smiled more often. "Busy, of course. Learning all new terms, then figuring out when I'm going to pull this altogether because there is no official training, I'm just hitting the ground running, following the senior secretary around." She explained. Her new job had started over a week ago, and so far she had yet to sit with her supposed new boss to go over what he wanted.
She did, however, show up the secretary who had been sniffing up her new boss' behind being ever so helpful to discuss what exactly she did for her own boss, who had an office two doors down. Sniffy secretary had provided a helpful link to something that she had clearly had a chance to see was not what her boss was inquiring about, and she managed to send the link she had that was the correct one to him. She also drove the point home when she asked if he got her email and was it what he wanted, and he said that it was "similar to what the" sniffy secretary sent and she politely disagreed. When he pulled up sniffy secretary's link to make his point, it was the wrong link. "Please pull up the email I sent you," she stated sweetly, inwardly smiling that sniffy had struck out. He immediately pulled her email up with her link and he had to acknowledge the link was indeed the correct one he needed. "It's the right one you need? Oh good, I'm glad," she had said, and turned on her heel and went back to her work. It was not a big deal but it was relevant as it was the first time in her time with him that she had shown some knowledge that the sniffy secretary lacked.
"It's clear she had an interest, she seems to always be around explaining things to him, but can never get the time to write things down and talk to me, you know, in the interest of helping a fellow secretary" she went on. She shrugged as she pulled a piece of fresh soft bread and liberally spread some butter on it and took a bite. "Well, you've done this before, it's a walk in the park, you know how to handle bosses," he said, "You are a hard worker and will figure it all out in due time. It's only been a week, don't be so hard on yourself." His phone buzzed and he checked it briefly.
Despite loving technology and electronic toys, she had sometimes wished that they had not been so reliant on them and could have a conversation with relatively few electronic interruptions. It was hard, because he was always 'on call' with his job, and she believed, he liked being relied upon and being reliable.
After a minute, he then disengaged from the computer for a couple of seconds to say, "Almost done," and continued to tap his screen. She said calmly, "Take your time," and her voice sounded calm, almost breezy. Proud of herself, she pulled out her Blackberry and checked for any new emails. She quickly started to delete some unnecessary ones, to clean out her email inbox, and that is when she finally heard him focus on her. He had stopped tapping his electronic screen and put it away in his briefcase and set the case under the table by his feet.
She casually looked up, and smiled, expectantly. "Hey, how are you?" he asked, taking a sip of water from his own glass. She answered, "I'm good, thanks. How are you?" "Good." he answered. She took her glass and took a couple of sips of the cool water. It felt good and refreshing. "Have you decided what you wanted?" he asked. "Actually, I barely glanced at it. What are you having?" she asked. "I already ordered some chicken and mushrooms. I've had it before, it's pretty good." "Oh," she said, surprised. She was barely five minutes late and he already got his order in. He must be in a rush, she thought.
She found a grilled salmon and vegetable with rice dish and he motioned for the waiter who took her order along with a glass of wine and disappeared just as quickly as he came.
So he had been here before. Hm, she thought. She glanced around and looked at their fellow 9 to 5-ers, who were there in their crisp suits and dresses and smart haircuts and shoes, talking together and forming an anxious buzz as they tried to make or break a deal.
"So how has your week been? How's work?" she asked. She kept their conversation to topics that she knew he would be comfortable with. Not to say she wasn't genuinely interested, she always was, but she also knew that only so much of a more personal connection was going to be made over a hurried lunch in the middle of a workday. It was enough that they had taken time out of their day and made their way out of their respective offices to meet halfway at this place.
Well, technically, the place was only an avenue and some blocks away from where he worked. She would have a train or taxi ride to get her back further uptown to where her job was situated -- which cut the lunch time down another fifteen minutes if she wanted to make headway on the cab getting her back in decent time.
He noticed thoughts passing through her face quickly, her face getting anxious, serious, thoughtful, then lightening. Sometimes he wondered if she even paid attention to what he said, but he knew the answer. She heard a lot, sometimes, more than she cared to admit. She never made a move, she never pushed, and in that respect she was very easy to get along with. She didn't place demands on him, and any time he had she was willing to work with. Any time he wanted a non dramatic hangout, he knew he could call on her and 9 times out of 10 she would agree to hang out.
She prided herself on not being too high maintenance but in reality, she was in a few ways. She didn't like anyone being late, she didn't like being lied to, and after canceling on her a few times, she will eventually make her anger known. He liked to push anyway, because in the end, she knew they were friends and that there was not much she was going to demand because of that.
After fifteen minutes, their food finally came out. He had taken it upon himself to order a simple salad appetizer, and they picked at it. "Work is work, same old same old," he said, with a shrug. "How is married life?" she asked, as she went to take a healthy bite of salad. "It's OK. She's OK. It's all good." He ended the sentence with a deep thud, as if to say, "Don't ask anymore beyond that because the wife doesn't like you to know and you know it," and she made a little satisfied sound, "That's good about work and the wife. Let her know I said hi," she said brightly. What she really meant was, "Say hi to her to let her know I'm still here."
His latest love was a bit of a screecher in that she seemed to yell at him at whatever he was planning to do, whether it was to work, look for a new job, or figure out what his next steps were going to be in anything. They weren't officially married, but as far as she was concerned, they might as well be. She made it clear to him that she wasn't going anywhere and that she was staying in his life forever. She then made a point to tell his female friend that too, and then politely stated that she was going to take care of him.
Being his friend, she knew better than to say anything, so she just smiled and nodded, and said that's good, and left it at that. As far as she was concerned, this wasn't a competition contest and she was never in the running anyway. Being his friend was better than being in his bed, time had shown her all the ones just like her that came before her, all professing their undying love, only for him to get bored or somehow things just fell apart and then it was just him and her again, friends.
"How is work for you?" he asked gently, as if to nudge her from her thoughts. She was smiling to herself. He loved her smile, he just wished she wasn't so guarded about her smile and smiled more often. "Busy, of course. Learning all new terms, then figuring out when I'm going to pull this altogether because there is no official training, I'm just hitting the ground running, following the senior secretary around." She explained. Her new job had started over a week ago, and so far she had yet to sit with her supposed new boss to go over what he wanted.
She did, however, show up the secretary who had been sniffing up her new boss' behind being ever so helpful to discuss what exactly she did for her own boss, who had an office two doors down. Sniffy secretary had provided a helpful link to something that she had clearly had a chance to see was not what her boss was inquiring about, and she managed to send the link she had that was the correct one to him. She also drove the point home when she asked if he got her email and was it what he wanted, and he said that it was "similar to what the" sniffy secretary sent and she politely disagreed. When he pulled up sniffy secretary's link to make his point, it was the wrong link. "Please pull up the email I sent you," she stated sweetly, inwardly smiling that sniffy had struck out. He immediately pulled her email up with her link and he had to acknowledge the link was indeed the correct one he needed. "It's the right one you need? Oh good, I'm glad," she had said, and turned on her heel and went back to her work. It was not a big deal but it was relevant as it was the first time in her time with him that she had shown some knowledge that the sniffy secretary lacked.
"It's clear she had an interest, she seems to always be around explaining things to him, but can never get the time to write things down and talk to me, you know, in the interest of helping a fellow secretary" she went on. She shrugged as she pulled a piece of fresh soft bread and liberally spread some butter on it and took a bite. "Well, you've done this before, it's a walk in the park, you know how to handle bosses," he said, "You are a hard worker and will figure it all out in due time. It's only been a week, don't be so hard on yourself." His phone buzzed and he checked it briefly.
Despite loving technology and electronic toys, she had sometimes wished that they had not been so reliant on them and could have a conversation with relatively few electronic interruptions. It was hard, because he was always 'on call' with his job, and she believed, he liked being relied upon and being reliable.
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