spontaneity ... slowly

the editor frequently gets press passes to shindigs i'm also favored to attend. there was an event the other day at which i volunteered in the set-up, but had to leave for work before he could get there. a friend did join me, so it was simply a sunny spring day, with faux hippies and free wine on the waterfront. drank some soft paso robles juice, enjoyed a stunning city view and did a little schmoozing. saw lots of guys i've known for many years and truly like.

late so-so lunch.

then overlapping calls of work calling me off, and the editor being on-site very close by. tipsiness trumped caution and i dragged my friend back. in-between trade and public hours, so the vast room was nearly empty and all the reps on break before the icky lush-crush. he turned as soon as i entered and was genuinely delighted to see me. i saw the happiness spread across his face as he crossed the room to greet me. i had had the courage to surprise him, and could not tell him what a leap this was for me. he didn't have much time, so we hit the highlights, then jumped in a cab for the airport. we smooched and giggled and he flew back to nyc.

when i got back home, i agonized.

with the g.c. so much on my end was about impulse control. spontaneous displays of affection were sternly discouraged. if he wanted to be touched, he'd tell or show me. he hated being caressed in his sleep. thus sleeping was difficult because i feared even grazing him. i really wanted to, ya know? because of his wife, i was never supposed to call. for the same reason, we couldn't kiss or hold hands the rare times we went anywhere. internally, there was a constant battle of both my desire to show him and be shown affection, while always submitting to his apparent adamancy to not. displays of tenderness became so foreign i usually flinched, expecting something fierce to immediately follow.

yet the sky didn't rain locusts, nor the rivers run red with blood on thursday. the editor got affirmation i like him, and i got a peek at what it's like to not be denied that kind of outlet. (and my friends now have confirmation he's not my imaginary boyfriend, lol.)

i feel emotionally retarded that this was such a big deal for me. at least the editor doesn't need to know.

only in my dreams

i opened the door. he'd come directly from the airport and followed a friendly neighbor inside, so no doorbell warned me. i might have been too afraid to answer that.

no words.

tears flowed.

we came upstairs.

still not a word.

his touch felt like he'd only been gone a day. at last, we lay tangled and breathless. together. quiet. still. the only movement was the vibration of relieved contentment from within me. he held me. and he stayed.

i woke up awash in an orgasm. crying.

when i'm awake, there are very few things i truly want. they seem so simple, yet i sometimes feel like i might as well wish for a herd of gentle pink unicorns bearing pots of money and eternal contentment. and world peace. and an invisible castle. etc.

ack.

he said it

he's fine with owning it. he said it again. he doesn't expect me to say it back. he believes it's too soon for me. he's never felt anything so "unfettered".

interesting choice of words. he must be accustomed to much more high-maintenance women. or they simply crumple under the weight of his need to be front and center. he can be a bit of a typhoon that way, lol. when he arrived last night to meet me, i was sharing a bottle with a chef i've known (and liked!) for years. the editor was verbal locomotive, til i finally told him my head was going to explode, which made t. roar. we both had been nudge-nudge-wink-wink complicit in not getting a word in edgewise! the editor calmed down tout suite. it's a truly peculiar way of overcompensating for his introversion. i'm glad he knows he needs to be called on for it, or it would be unbearable.

so, ok, i'm loved. am i ok with that? i am completely twisted by lacking reciprocity, yet he seems delighted by me and his feelings. i "have breathed new life into him." i wish his emotions were powerful enough to cancel others i still hold so deeply.

what'd he say?

tonight is my class and the editor has a dinner with a bunch of other gurus. conveniently close to where i'll be, so we'll reconnoiter for a glass of wine (oy, i might need more than one) before heading over the river. we've only e-mailed and texted since the "slip", so i've not been able to *hear* anything in his voice.

i feel incredibly anxious. let's hope overly so.

i'm happy to have such a pleasant distraction before i see him tonight. i've decided not to mention it. he said it, he owns it. do i say i'm still in love with someone else? not that that truly would prevent me from loving another, but he doesn't have to know that. it surely seems kinder than saying i just don't feel the same thing. it's been a long time since i had a conversation like that and it was horrible. might i grow to love him? dunno. i've always decided that sort of thing quickly, for better or worse. i'm confident to know it's not that i'm disallowing myself to feel it. so that part is true. i think.

i really only wanted an affair of the flesh, not of the heart. dammit.hell, maybe i'm just old and didn't hear what he actually said!

a slip?

he was racing down the sidewalk in manhattan. a cold raw day and he was full of missing me. signing off before his meeting, he said it. the "l" word. i pretended i didn't hear. i'm working under the presumption he was preoccupied and maybe thinking of his daughter? oy. his previous declarations of "i adore you" made me feel weird enough. oy.

la di da. i'll chalk it up to distraction via multi-tasking. yup. that's it.

this is not what i want.

pluralistic ignorance

as much as safire gets my goat with his too often hoity-toity waspiness, i do love when he zips out wingers like this one today. it led an article rich with phrases like "one swell foop", "elitist language snobs and the anarchic language slobs", (oh, how i've railed so frequently about the latter, and make no apology for cozying up to the former) and finally "mediacrities". word nerd nirvana.

as my curious noodle is wont to do, trolling ensued for the origin and better context. a condition fostered by homophily, which was recognized at least as far back as aristotle: "we love those most like ourselves." in social situations we gravitate to people with whom we feel mental and emotional kinship. it also takes into consideration the "looking glass" theory of perception. our idea of *self* based on what we see, thus others must see the same; notions attach themselves to whatever we find most similar to our own tendencies. most people seek out the cocoon of sameness. this then grows larger, and because those around us think like us, we assume most everybody does. this can be nefarious, like with neo-nazism, or ethically important like free school lunches.

shock and wobbliness ensue when this falters. as a superficial example, i'm often surprised when someone i'm becoming acquainted with is in favor of the death penalty. i have plenty of ammunition to shoot down his reasons, but i won't change his mind, and no doubt he was equally taken aback by my opposition.

in a more personal context, i was in a long affair with a married man. in the mirror, i saw lots of people around me engaged in adultery, and projected many more held the same sliding fidelity scale as the g.c. and i did. ripped from his embrace by the harsh truth of a wife and children, i admit i tenacously held a false construct in which i found unjustified comfort. the reality is i know far more people happily and monogamously paired.

for many years, i worked with incredibly smart, well-traveled, terribly interesting people. how easily i forgot the lunkheads with whom i'd previously toiled, and it lulled me into thinking i'd find mental compatriots down the line. instead, i've spent the last several years underwhelmed by even the banter, and unable to achieve discourse of any worth. add utter lack of mental challenge from many of my duties and my brain has been at very low rpms.
which gets me to a thorny place. these last weeks i've been the victim of several nasty "bait and switch" routines. sure, i'm quite good at what i do, but the demand for my skill in this city remains small and very poorly paid. the other duties owners want me to focus on bore me to tears. throw in "all owners are assholes" (quote from sage friend, lol) and smack myself with a homer "duh". just because i want it, that doesn't mean it's out there. i wanted a pony at one point too, ya know? i've kept myself in a comfort zone of "oh, well, i can do this," rather than seeking another outlet for my skill set. i've identified as one thing for a long time and have not been thinking outside the box.

instead of "birds of a feather", let's work on "familiarity breeds contempt."

i need some fresh air and a long walk. maybe i can find a 3-card monte game in the commons. :)

look to the stars

you have brains in your head. you have feet in your shoes. you can steer yourself any direction you choose.
~~dr. seuss

new shoes not being in the cards, i must need a new map.

another really painful bait and switch today.

high-profile owners, up and coming location, brand new spot. i LOVE openings. a month ago i was *perfect* for the job. "if it were just up to me, i'd hire you today." coming from an owner that sounds promising. wait patiently for gm to return from long vacation. get lots of side affirmation from friendly sources that i'm in like flynn. conversation today going well til i slowly realize we are on opposing sides of a very busy road. that ideal position has morphed into something horrible and opposite. her "nothing carved in stone" thrown away, i'm back to square one. couldn't she have been honest in the first few minutes, rather than make me drag it out of her? most importantly, although she's got no experience, she's "always really wanted to *do* a winelist". so the thing for which the owner wanted me has been given to the fat brat who wants the goose that lays golden eggs.

ok, so, what now? i can't really fault this owner. he's trying to cultivate and keep a valued employee. really that's good. apparently, i got shuffled. so what the fuck am i supposed to do with this skill set? it's not like i'm a savant, only good at *that*. but without *that*, i'm not engaged. it's babysitting lazy monkeys and mollifying spoiled rich folks. am i being unrealistic in wanting more out of my job? if i wanted to work till 3:00 a.m. everyday, i'd bartend for god's sake. cash on the barrel, no cares.

mostly, i make myself forget what a sleazy unethical business this is. that convenient amnesia keeps my passion alive, and allows me to go to work every day. when i'm in the game, it nourishes my masochism, but when i'm outside and i keep stepping in it like dogshit in paris, i get angry.

beginning my sommelier class felt empowering and proactive. i went to quite a few industry events this week and got almost enough positive affirmation, lol. i'm missed, i'm valued, they all seemed honestly shocked that i doubted myself rather than inherently knowing my last bosses were irredeemable dickheads.

so yeah, i need to think what might be possible, even maybe impossible. look up, not down.

raise a glass to the future

the check was large and not money i really have right now. (mantra while starving: i'm investing in my future, ommmmmmmmmm...) the room was tiny. and very stuffy. the chairs were hard. the class an odd mix, with surprisingly few industry people. the instructor was predictably but nicely nerdy.

the initial barrage of information was daunting, but so far nothing not already in my mental file. so i'm not worried i'll run out of room for new stuff yet, lol. it was also my first *new notebook for school* in a very long time. (dangit, won't need a lunchbox though. no hellokitty thermos!)

the class is only offered once a year, in a very limited number of cities. i'm lucky to live in one which was just recently added to the roster. the super cork-dork program begins in september and i want to be ready. i simply could not, would not, postpone this another year. as someone liked to remind me, i'm not getting any younger.

might as well increase my worth while i try to convince people how invaluable i am!

bait and switch

an enthusiastic caller responding to my resume. "we have something for which you'd be just perfect. let's meet asap." little black skirt, heels, etc. the mortgage purse. (i keep thinking i'm actually glad i bought this stuff *then* since i never could *now*.)

we cast and bob. i smile, i'm charming, i'm engaged.

lots of questions about my former celebrity chefs. i answer diplomatically about how tough they were, yet "gee, what a rewarding challenge," blah blah.

this last expedition was especially unsavory. a growing group with several new places in the works and clearly successful within a pretty narrow concept. could do it in my sleep kinda thing. there's a voice in my head, nagging though, because i've met 2 of the 3 partners over the years and know they're dicks. (add in unbearable princesses for wives.) but i have visions of eventually being the buyer for all the stores. perfect.

initial guy seems very nice. passionate about food and service. has been with them 2 years. we twirl around and around and i hear the same questions. it's common knowledge my previous employers are notorious assholes. why make me lie? at last we come to money. i say a number. we dance around some more. an hour ago i knew i'm overqualified for what they actually need, and the bait he dangled before doesn't exist.

"any other questions before i get the director of operations?" (the behind the scenes partner i've never met.) "am i in the ballpark with salary or not?" hems, haws, "uh, mr. x will discuss that with you." i was ready to leave then.

mr. x arrives promptly and... i instantly hate him. he tries to disparage my previous restaurants and wine lists. tacky. then admits to never having been to 2 of them when i corner him politely. rude. he jogs me for industry gossip. ruder still. i finally say, "look, can we talk about what you have to offer me?" he offers $20,000 LESS than i lobbed. high school drop-outs who start as entry level managers at fucking mcdonald's make more. i stare at him, and say that's not possible for me. "well, what if we pay 1/2 your insurance?" i nearly fall off the chair when i realize the miserly crumbs didn't even include benefits. all the while he has barely made eye-contact. he knows this is absurd, and is basically offensive. "to be honest, i'm looking to move forward, mr. x, and that would be a giant backward step, so if that's the best you can do..." "wait, wait, let me think if i know of anything else..." he's staring at my resume like a leprechaun with a pot of gold might leap out of it.

he tosses out, "well, so-and-so--" i cut him off, already knowing where that project is headed. "mr. x, i thank you for your time, but --" he tries yet again to make me stay and asks me more gossip. finally i stand up. it's done. if i stay i'll either start laughing or punch him. "thanks for your time, good luck, mr. x, blah, blah."

these aren't the first guys to do this. in such a relatively small town, with such a tightly incestuous industry, why are they calling me just to meet me? to see if i'll talk smack about guys everyone knows are jerks? to give them free advice, rather than paying a consultant? isn't it counterintuitive to look at my experience and offer me the equivalent of burger-flipping? oy vey. it's an industry that survives on very thin margins, however i am not being unreasonable in my expectations. i'm not leasing myself into serfdom.

finally i'm no longer naieve enough to take the bait and wind up with a mouthful of mud. i can wait.

words of others

i've tried. really i have. so many "trust in the power of the lord." or indulgences of children. (actually good they're trying to write --wonder if they ever get help to make it better?) or words that seem to be written by kids but instead by barely literate adults. some are from the perspective of a pet or an infant. undoubtedly charming to the owner of said cuddly creature, but not much to bring me back.

i don't delude myself i'm fascinating, and i know introspection isn't a big draw, lol. at least my navel-gazing has proper spelling and grammar, and i'm 100% certain i've never posted *anyways*, or *irregardless*.

months ago i stuck a cork in the wine sites. all those armchair parkers in love with hot heavy california fruit-bombs just made me wanna bang my head on the monitor. i'll no longer wonder why residual sugar increases every vintage and so many wines i can't get past a few sips.

so, my next expedition was for good food boards and blogs. the food sites are peopled mostly by folks who can barely make ice, and if something is finished with a cream sauce it's automatically elegant. at least once a week: "help! my chili is too spicy/salty/soupy!" or "can i freeze bread?" it's wonderful they want to learn, but i'm not. i do get a lot of "oh! i never would have thought of that!", so apparently i'm at least helpful. yes, i know i'm jaded because my palate hasn't been deranged by krispy kreme and olive garden gluttony, but there is that frustrating element of lacking common sense. they don't seem to know how to use google or even the internal search engines. the same 4 or 5 cookbooks are bibles, which is very tiresome. how many times do they need to talk about marcella hazan's lemon chicken? stop bitching about how annoying rachel ray is and turn off the tv. is emeril holding a gun to your head and making you watch the food network?

my frustration with blogs is the same. (food blog = flog? hmmm.) apparently there are new photo widgets that make publishing those easier, and i have seen some very appealing shots. i guess they're all used to eating dinner cold, lol. but they're very remedial cooks and all link circularly to the same handful of blogs. occasionally the ny times will reference one. i'm always shocked to find those littered with typos and crappy writing too. such lax standards, et tu, gray lady? i've yet to find one that's a keeper and i've visited dozens.

michelin sent me links to a few french food blogs. some have absolutely salacious gastro porn for pix. happily, my french is so lousy, i can't tell if the writing is good or bad, lol.

i just need less time on my hands.

early

it's early
it's quiet
it's cold
it's bright

i don't mind this kind of alone
so much

the heart to the sun

come to me and sing
of when we had wings
my heart's so broken
i'll believe anything

has the time come at last
to speak of those things?
fiery rings
cabbages and kings
is it all too far in the past?

do you see me flying?

may i?
should i?

can i?

whom do i ask?
i don't want to fly alone

doubting the noodle

it's been the elephant in the middle of the room that is my head. pain in other contexts is a desireable stimulus for me, but that from self-examination is certainly easier to avoid than inflict. however socrates ( i always hear the bill and ted pronunciation of that! lol) has been whispering persistently in my ear an awful lot lately, so, alright already!

the ho part? long ago integrated. so many women are conflicted by their inherent sexuality that it baffles me. if my liberated libido is too much for a man, he's not the right guy for me. it's primal, i like it, i want it. easy. i'm no longer willing to have love and a mediocre sex life. eventually i know things will wane as the machines start to slow, but the philosophy needs to be shared, so he doesn't fear or despise the wanton slut on his hands.

the toy part? fine with that as well. i've never needed a love connection to have sex or enjoy the company of a man. if he can keep up his end of the conversation, it's nice to be around the testosterone. i definitely prefer it to estrogen-scented evenings. he's just as much my barrel of monkeys as i am his.

the noodle part? ah. herein lies the doubt. granted the editor is the verbal equivalent of a rocket scientist, so that's shaken me a bit. as i've mentioned i keep up, but rarely best him. i don't like coming in 2nd place with quips and quotes! (waah-waah) but i've been thinking it's more macro than just him and his constantly cartwheeling brain.

i've always identified my *self* with what i *do*. those other personal connections that round out most people's lives either don't exist for me, or are tenuous at best. i'm not a mother. i'm not a wife. i'm not a sibling. my role as granddaughter and daughter is so conditional, so tortured, i act it out as infrequently as possible. (yes, more pain avoidance.) i am a friend, and i like to think a good one. although long-time friends lead much different lives, with exactly the kinds of tethers i don't have. obviously we relate differently than when we all were single and they were yet to have kids. more locally, i do have a few very close friends, and i am grateful for that.

it's long been my job that kept my noodle limber and engaged. delightful that sensuality and learning are both nearly equal parts of what i like and get paid to do. i spend time with incredibly passionate people and it's thrilling. i get to spread my excitement in an honest and true way. my wine fairy wand is getting dusty, and that's why i feel adrift.

my resume gets lots of "wow!", but i've yet to feel "wow" on the inside from anything so far offered. my fingers are in several stew pots, so it's not exactly a barren pantry. i'm just getting restless.

a conversation long ago with a friend who'd recently had a baby after many years of trying has been ringing in my head. she had decided to quit work and become a stay-at-home mom. she warned me not to let my work define my life. well, now that's all i've got.

nope

not tonight. no way.

my skin blotchy. my eyes so swollen and red it hurts to see. i can't bear the thought of an ice pack even though my face is so hot and puffy. the sadness has resurfaced in such a jagged and consistent way, just trying to type this the spigot opens anew. i can't be lively and fun and pretend i'm fine.

sometimes it's ok to skip a day. i only wish it had made me feel better.

i'll stay in and rest up for the other schmoozerama tomorrow. skirt, heels and champagne. i can do that. tomorrow. not today.

dinner at the club

finally. the editor will be out west mingling with futurists and ceos, so wanted to do something nice for me before leaving.

it was even prettier inside than i'd thought. lots of oil paintings of guys in wigs and their sons in cravats. plush, posh, velvetty and seats and tables with curvy legs. surprising buzz in the room. i'd expected it to be far more hushed. great fun eavesdropping: stravinsky, mesopatamia, elizabeth I. brains all around. i counted only 3 other women out of about 75 people, lol.

i've eaten all over the world, but it was my first time getting a "ladies' menu," which i found quite funny and yet charming. poor waiter was definitely harried and the manager looked grumpy. i liked the food, the wines were good, the single malt smoky and just sweet enough while he had some ice cream thingie. we were ensconced in a corner by the window which felt romantic and nicely intimate. really, it was a lovely evening, followed by some very good hitty stuff.

he had a very early flight.

i cried and cried on my bed.

changing the clocks

we did it early this year. my understanding is that the leisure industry, like guys who make bbq grills and own golf courses, will net a much bigger gain than any savings felt by the environment. expenditures of oil, gas and electric will simply be shifted to the morning hours when kids get ready for school and their parents head to work. no surprise the bushies caved to guys in ties and the earth is left in the dust.

my internal clock has always been better calibrated to the night-hours. my inclination to owlishness has always served me well in my profession. when most people are heading home to the evening news, my *day* is just starting. winding down afterwards can be hard, but i seem to do ok on just 6 or 7 hours, and try to maintain the discipline of not sleeping too late.

when i remembered saturday night that it was time to spring ahead, it was an ugly awakening that i'd basically been ghosting around the apartment, and it was now 4:30 in the morning. i realized i'd been creeping later and later, closer to dawn these last few weeks. it's so bright so early in here that most of my sleep had been interrupted and fruitless. ah, yes, no wonder i've been so cranky and edgy.

i set an early alarm and although groggy and fuzzy-headed, began the day. the vernal equinox is soon, so i'll reset the infernal clock within to enjoy the coming season.

in a parallel universe

recently read that 2 in 3 american white women "worry" about being homeless, but only 1 in 3 black women share that same doubt. this entry is not to ponder the why or the who. however, the threat of losing my home -- that equity, that work, that future -- has loomed very large for too long. (yeah, yeah other stuff too, stop digressing!)

leaving work tonight i detoured through chinatown. what drew my eye southwards to the alley, i'm not sure. i saw an unguarded shopping cart, piled high. on the top several bags from my formerly favorite shoe emporium. (been so long, don't even know...) the inner basket a jumble. the bottom? that part that often carries potting soil or kitty litter? 2 wooden crates: a 1997 far niente cabernet sauvignon and a 1989 mouton rothschild. just the crates, mind you, (full of who knows what) but i got instant gooseflesh wondering whence, why, who, wtf? both those unicorn wines sell for small fortunes and are critics' darlings. the cruel irony of seeing them as suitcases for a homeless guy was overwhelming.

i now know who to look for if everything i own winds up in a sack.

quotable

love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get — only what you are expecting to give — which is everything. what you will receive in return varies. but it really has no connection with what you give. you give because you love and cannot help giving.

~~katherine hepburn

i was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.

~~audrey hepburn

i adore them both. i wonder if they knew how similar they sometimes seemed?

the view from here, cont'd.

the editor was on tv tonight. it's a monthly spot that he films in advance, but he seemed far more at ease this time than last. he was smart and wry and just the way i like him. the way he mostly is.a few nights ago i was out with a friend and i said: "i guess i could start using his name, rather than calling him *the editor*." my friend replied, "oh dear, well, he's very important!" which made me feel squirmy and weird, cuz he is. it's the first time in my life i've ever felt unsure of myself because of the man's position. he moves in the circles of international intellectual power. yet he thinks i'm smart too. can't i accept the opinion of a man whose brain is so esteemed?

he's yet to stump me, which has him both fascinated and frustrated, lol. it's funny because we both dive into the same pools of interest. the g.c. and i had some divergent mental pursuits, but the editor and i seem to travel the same thorny mental paths. i suppose i should feel flattered that i keep up. but all that harvard mingling and nyc intelligentsia hobnobbing winds around me like acrid smoke. i hold my own with him, and have no doubt i'd do just fine at cocktails. other than tolerating the pretense.

from whence comes the doubt?

the secret life of bees

last night boiling away, i pondered further on my accidental monogamy...

previously, when i was between being in love, i was quite promiscuous. the more the merrier, man to man, a busy bee gorging in the field. always had an apartment with a front door and a back door to allow for an unplanned hasty exit. (lol, never a conscious part of deciding to sign the lease, but a surprising constant, nonetheless.)

i remain in a state that even the most inadvertent of pokes can unexpectedly enrage the hornets within me and unleash something i can't control. so no need to be passing out all kinds of sticks.

finally i am comfortable enough that the sincere affirmation from one is sufficient. i had worried that confidence might have been an exclusive dynamic with the g.c., but now i know not. it helps that the editor seems too gentle to sting.

other folks

it's very hard to know what our friends and family truly think of us. they look one way, say something palliative, then we process what we like. we do know they probably want us to be happy and unhurt.

over dinner a dear friend expressed dire concern. shouldn't i be rutting all over town? why wasn't i busy jacking myself all over the city? frankly i hadn't thought of it consciously. without deliberate intent, i've slipped into essential monogamy with the editor. no declaration is forthcoming, but i'm ... content.

my friend was concerned i was too soon off devastating heartbreak to know what i was doing. he truly worried that by limiting myself to one guy, i might be more prone to be hurt. i assured him i'm fine. my wall is strong. as much affection, excitement and respect i feel for the editor, i know it's not yet love. it doesn't really matter why or why not, ya know?

i feel mostly happy most of the time.

my job hunt, though slow, feels positive too.

the editor likes me and i like him.

i'm mostly ok with these small steps.

i wouldn't run away from a lightning strike though.