Idle Time

There is something that I've never quite understood since I've moved to the East Coast. Idling. Like idling one's engine for an extended period of time. And I'm not talking in the winter, because that would make sense; you want to make sure your engine is warm before you demand its complete obedience in the snowy months.

No, I'm talking about spring and summer and fall. I'm talking about sitting in one's driveway after returning home at 10, 11, 12 at night and letting the motor run for, say, half an hour. Sometimes it's 2am. I've been woken from a dead sleep by an idling engine. I'm sorry, but what the hell is that about?

It's not like I've never lived in a city and I just can't handle the noise. I've lived in the French Quarter, smack across the street from the cop shop that liked to wait to turn on their sirens at 4am until they were right in the middle of the intersection outside my bedroom window. I've lived in Denver and San Diego, for chrissakes. I can handle a little ambient city noise.

But for some reason, the one thing I cannot stand is an idling engine. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's the anticipation. You keep waiting for the rev, for the eventual takeoff that follows the drone. And it never comes. Like a stifled yawn, you're left irritatingly unsatisfied.

My neighbors, of course, are the worst offenders. The ones to the right (with the driveway right outside my bedroom window) will arrive at 1am in the warmer months, turn up their ridiculously tuned stereos, and let the music and the engines blare for a good hour or more, while they talk and drink and smoke and sell drugs and god knows what. (This is the same building whose tenants will take to sledding down their personal, 2-foot-wide ice floe at 3 or 4 in the morning, laughing and shouting and whooping it up far too early on a wintry weekday...)

To my left (or, more technically, right behind my kitchen wall), are the motorcycle enthusiasts. Oh, how I loathe them. Princess Pink and Mr. Green. Yes, these nicknames refer directly to their choices of cycle and matching gear color. Of course, to be accurate, it should really be Mr. Neon Green. I'm sorry, do I sound bitter and judgmental?

Hmm, perhaps it's due to the fact that I have to listen to them idle in our building's driveway for a solid half-hour every time they return home. Um, what the hell? You warm the engine up before you go for a ride, not after. (But then, you don't warm it up at all in this heat...) What, pray tell, is the purpose? And must you blast that godawful southern rap while you do it?

I've never been a fan of motorcycles. True, I own a moped. But I only work on it during daylight hours and I kill the engine the moment I reach the driveway. There is no needless revving of motors, no irritating idle. I have more respect for my neighbors than that. 

And maybe that's what it all comes down to. Maybe, having grown up in the west, where the expansion was vast and the crowding of the metropolitan areas was slow, I feel bad about encroaching on my neighbors' auditory space. And maybe, having been crowded into the tiny sardine can of the original 13 for well over a century, Easterners just don't give a shit anymore.

Or maybe I'm just getting old...

Better Late Than Never

Another year, another attempt at producing some form of creative expression on a (somewhat) regular basis. And, of course, now that I've opened this lovely new blog post, I am drawing a complete blank. Figures.

So, I'll start with the boring basic stats. A mental tallying of my assets (or deficits), if you will.

I am, at this moment, thirty (and a half) years old. I have a sweet apartment in the middle of nowheresville where I live a peaceful existence with my cat. I work for an awesome safari company where I've recently been promoted to Information Administrator.

I have an AA and a BA under my belt (although what specific good they've done me I'm not entirely sure). And at some indeterminate point in the future I have a tenuous plan to return for my MA. However, as the idea of writing even one more academic paper still makes me queasy, that may happen later rather than sooner.

I have a close circle of friends in town with whom I have ridiculous, drunken adventures. And I have an extended family of friends that practically circumnavigates the globe. Not to mention the fact that my blood relatives and extended family are some of the most supportive and loving people on earth.

It seems I have arrived in that mystical, independent future of which I dreamed so feverishly in high school. I have my own place, I have a great job, I pay my bills (most of the time), no one tells me when to go to bed.

So... now what? Now that I'm a "grown-up," what do I do with the rest of my life?

I guess that's what this blog is going to help me figure out.

I Resolve

Well, it’s that time again. Time to indulge in that time-honored tradition of making promises to myself that I will eventually break amid much cursing of my lack of will power. Of course, I have the best of intentions; it’s just that my self-disciplinary muscles are weak and flabby (which puts them in good company). All the more reason to flex them on this yearly occasion.

So, in that spirit, I resolve…

…to slow down and pay more attention. To myself, to my environment, to others. In short, to be more present in my life.
…to spend more time on self-examination and introspection. I am just beginning to understand this person that lives inside my head, but it is a delicate, complex and time-consuming process.
…to listen more. This really overlaps with the other two, but it deserves its own mention. I spend a lot of my life attempting not to hear things, and as a result, I miss out on a lot of good stuff.

And now that I’ve gotten the lofty and intellectual-sounding goals out of the way, I also resolve…

…to actually buckle down and write. Anything. Everything. Blogs, diaries, lists, notes, tweets, poems, short stories, and (gasp! dare I suggest it?) even a novel!
…to eat better and exercise.
…to get rid of all the crap that’s cluttering up my apartment (and my life)!
…to finally get my finances in order.
…to learn to play my guitar, damnit!
…to dance more.
…to laugh more.
…to never take myself too seriously.

Good luck with your own resolutions, and may all your dreams for 2010 come true.

Hopefull

You know, this is all so crazy, it just might work.

The computer is gone. Kaput. An incredibly expensive paperweight. And I lost a lot of personal data that was very dear to me. But... I'm not as broken up about it as I thought I'd be. Perhaps (just perhaps) it's time I learn to let go. Attatchments are the cause of suffering, isn't that what they say? (How very zen of me...)

Anyway, I have the new phone which allows me to do everything I need. And I have my awesome job, so I'll be able to afford a new computer eventually (and I no longer need to look for work--hurrah!).

And, you know, I'm happy here. I'm getting my place fixed up, learning to budget my time and money, and figuring out what's really important in my life.

Life is good.

Good Day

I love my new job. It's so nice to work somewhere normal again. I have normal hours, normal pay, heck, even normal coworkers. I had forgotten how awesome normal is. I'm still amazed at what a simple joy it is to come in, make myself a cup of tea, then sit at my desk (my desk) and go through my emails amid the gentle chatter of my arriving coworkers and the occasional quiet snuffling of the owner's dachshund.

Such a great day today. Even with my predecessor off to the maternity ward sooner than expected, and some fun, technical difficulties that took half the day to fix, working there is still heaven. And on my way home, I explored one of the Middle Eastern bakeries along Mt. Auburn called Sevan.

I bought falafel and hummus, dates, pistachios and jordan almonds. I even tried one of their dolmas, which the man behind the counter was kind enough to heat up for me; heaven! I can't wait to go back and try their baclava and buy some tubs of olives. Mmm, and so many varieties of Turkish delight! Yum.

And now, I'm home. The wind and rain beats against my windows while I enjoy my hummus and watch an old movie. I'll head to bed in a bit, get a good night's sleep, and do it all over again.

I can't remember the last time I was so happy with the everyday.

Adulthood

This morning, I got up early, showered and dressed, made myself coffee, eggs and toast, fixed my lunch, did the breakfast dishes (including wiping down the stove), and got ready for work. And now I am spending a leisurely hour catching up on blogging and correspondence while listening to Josephine Baker and Edith Piaf.

My mornings usually run a bit more like this: I hit the snooze button four dozen times, scramble for clothes, decide I'll skip breakfast and buy lunch while standing in front of an open fridge and staring at the clock, and remember something crucial I left on my vanity while streaking for the bus.

I feel so grown up since I've been on my own. It's scary.

But good.

I Love Technology

It is at once the boon and bane of my existence. It allows me to do so many things. And in so doing, keeps me from doing so many things.

I was exploring Twitter today. Very interesting. 

So many little things to integrate.

I love it when things dovetail.

I'm such a nerd.

Why?

I have the job that I have because I was desperate to get into Boston. I love my parents, but I just had to get out on my own again. So I caved and took a retail position that I am totally overqualified for. Now that I've gotten my yearly raise, I make a whole dollar over Massachusetts minimum wage. Next year, if I'm good, I might be in line for another whole quarter per hour raise.

Now, once I was in Boston (or thereabouts) I figured I'd find another job that was a little more along the lines of my general talents and abilities. Unfortunately, that was the exact moment at which the economy took a nose dive. The fifty or so Craigslist ads per day which I had been perusing in New Hampshire went down to three. Businesses closed, companies conducted layoffs, and everyone (even in my ridiculously profitable industry) went around whispering "Recession!" as if it were some sort of charm.

Not only that, but I had the brilliant idea that I would go back to school to escape this nightmare of an employment future. When I told my bosses that I would need to go down to part-time, they recommended I just cut back to 30 hours so I could keep my benefits and it would be less likely that I would be seen as some fat to trim when the budget got tight. Okay, makes sense, so I stupidly agreed.

Fast forward four months. I have just a week and half to finish and revise a 10-page research paper for one class and create from scratch a final project for another. I also have to make up for some time I needed last week for the aforementioned paper which I took out of my regular work schedule. So, I'm working 36 hours this week (and dodging guilt trips at work for not offering more of my time during their busiest season) and I will not be able to get everything finished. 

I would lament that I should have simply gone down to part-time anyway, but the only other part-timer in my department has already been let go, so that probably would have ended badly. I would have simply gotten another job, but I don't have the time to even look, let alone interview. 

What am I supposed to do? Why is it that this country does not believe in investing in the future of its workforce? Why wasn't I born in Sweden so I could go to school for free and with government help for room and board? Why is it that the suffering I experienced this semester has to be drawn out into the decades it's going to take me to pay off my loans?

What the hell, man?

Cats Are Queer Articles

My kitty and me have an agreement: I keep her in tuna, and she keeps her cute little yap shut. More often than not, it is me that forgets the deal. Her favorite time to remind me of this is first thing in the morning. 

She has this uncanny ability to sense the exact moment when my consciousness hovers closest to the surface. She usually sits approximately 2 millimeters from my nose (or eyeball) and mews quietly at an ever increasing pitch until it is impossible for me to do anything but get up and rectify the situation. It feels something like this:

Although she has not used a baseball bat on me yet, I suspect she knows where she can lay her paws on one.

I was a particularly good human the other day, though, and was rewarded accordingly. I came home from work to find that the critter's food dish was empty. She was doing the usual belly-up wiggle dance to inform me of this fact. I filled the dish and waited for her to signal her approval.

She went over to the dish, gave it a cursory sniff, and when she looked up at me I could hear her thinking, "You boob!" She did an about face, marched over to the fridge, and plopped down at the edge of the door. She stared plaintively at the door and then glanced at me with a look that said, "You know the good stuff is in here, bozo."

Playing the good pet, I dutifully retrieved the open can of tuna and filled her tuna saucer. Andromeda oversaw the whole operation, and I know she must have been pleased at my speed and efficiency. Usually she scolds me for the unbearable amount of time it takes to get the fish from the can to her dish, but this time she never let out a single sound!

Am I well trained, or what?

A New Start

So. A new name, a new place, a new life. A new start.

I wish I were as confident about new beginnings as I had been at 18. Or at 20. It's amazing what a decade will do...

So far on this little adventure, things have been going well. Slow... but well. I must say I'm anxious to really get out there and live my own life for once. Unfortunately, circumstances dictate that I must begin at square one. I have no money, no job, and no place of my own. I live, as at 18, at the mercy of my parents, who have been quite merciful indeed.

Don't get me wrong. I love my parents. They have been generous and supportive and wonderful. But I like to think of myself, at least in my more phlegmatic moments, as an adult. It's disappointing to think that I've lived all this time, invested a great deal of effort, and the life that I had carved out for myself fell apart.

And why, I'd like to know, have I grown as a human being and shed the beneficial attributes of youth yet retained some of the more troublesome ones? How can I have lost the brazen confidence and reckless fearlessness while continuing to cling to impatience and impracticality? It's just not fair, I tell you.

Oh, well. I suppose if life has taught me anything thus far, it is that the universe seems to operate in patterns, even if I cannot step back far enough to appreciate the big picture, and as long as I behave and don't eat too many cookies before bed time, all will be made clear in the end.

Still, I hate waiting...