Death by Pepperoncini

I forgot why I enjoy Cafe Express, and it certainly isn't the overpriced salads and sandwiches. It isn't the buzzing "your food is ready" pagers, or the kamizake left turn across four lanes of traffic I had to make to get there from work.

I can sum up my love for Cafe Overpriced in two simple words: FIXINS' BAR. Kalimari olives, big juicy pickles, pepperoncinis bursting with tear-rendering goodness, roasted garlic, capers, banana peppers, chick peas, sun-dried tomatoes; all sizes and shapes of pickled marinaded toppings. For FREE! No joke! Any old joe could walk in from off the street, use the restroom, grab a breadstick and garnish himself silly.

...Although I guess he'd have to get past the four lanes of traffic first.

I h8 NY

Ok, not really.

But I am extremely happy to be home.
I mean, seriously.
Enough with the traveling.
Within hours of my arrival back in Houston--no, minutes!--I received 1. an invitation to lunch; 2. an invitation to be the voice of reason for apt hunting (my advice: look at at least three before you sign a lease); 3. An invitation to go bridesmaid dress shopping; 4. an invitation to bbq. Yes yes, yes, and definitely yes.

Prepping for a super furry busy week. Art crawl this weekend. Newton's law: an object in motion...

Voting, the epilogue, strikes back

An e-mail thread from earlier today:

From: David
Sent: Wednesday, November 09, 2005 10:47 AM
To: Jennifer
Subject: "It lacks any purpose other than to enshrine bigotry in the Texas Constitution."

Nice – this new amendment will allow companies to stop providing domestic partner benefits. Even for straight people. I hate Texas and George Bush. Let’s move somewhere!

http://blog.lgrl.org/archives/2005/09/houston_chronic.html

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Jennifer
To: Ryan
Subject: FW: "It lacks any purpose other than to enshrine bigotry in the Texas Constitution."

Yuck

---------- message ----------
From: Ryan
To: Jennifer, Mary
Date: Wed, 9 Nov 2005 11:04:10 -0800 (PST)
Subject: Re: FW: "It lacks any purpose other than to enshrine bigotry in the Texas Constitution."

i was really really upset about this yesterday.

i went and voted yesterday after work, and it was at the cute little elementary school off Fairview (im still registered in montrose).... it made me realize what a bubble i live in. Most of the fellow voters I saw at the school seemed like really cool sweet caring open minded folk. young and old.

and then N----- called me last night - he had been watching the polls come in.... he said 76% of texans voted FOR prop 2. i couldnt believe how high the numbers are. 76% are complete bigots. its really sad and frustrating. i feel like its the 1950's all over again. sucks to be gay. i feel like i am going to constantly going to have to prove myself for the rest of my life. to my family, strangers i meet, my work, my neighbors, my government. bullshit.

---------- message ----------
From: Mary
To: Ryan
Subject: Re: Re: FW: "It lacks any purpose other than to enshrine bigotry in the Texas Constitution."

I truly believe that 1. education and 2. gay/lesbian rights are our generation's civil rights issues.

It's not easy to live in Texas, but think of how important the work you do at the counseling center and IN YOUR LIFE is to what we can clearly see as an oppressed Texas minority (and by that, i mean the 20% who voted hell no). It would be fabulous to live in San Fran or any other smart liberal city in the country, just like I could have taught at suburban school with high parent involvement, but would I have been able to make as much of an educational impact to those people in that place?

Texas needs you. And me. And Montrose. And it needs people like us to BREED (Hahahaha) or adopt or whatever and bring smart little people into the world. Which is not to say that we can never move away, but I don't think we should feel like we have to.

Or should we all move to San Fran and cut it loose and live on a happy isolated island?

Voting Epilogue

I was relatively uninformed going into the polls today, knowing only three things/people I wanted to (and was able to) support: 1. Yay Mayor White; 2. Down with Bigot Amendment #2; and 3. Yay Peter Brown.

All those other amendments, I was like: no, no, no, Smith and Upser counties? who cares? no, no... I mean, come on. We're talking about amending the state constitution here. Leave the constitution alone! Don't mess with Texas, right?

This evening I consulted the League of Women Voters "constitutional amendments for dummies" guide and was pleased with all my decisions. I'm not advocating for being an uninformed voter, but sometimes, even in the complicated world of politics, common sense prevails.

Dear Texans,

Please go vote tomorrow against Proposition 2, if for no reason than its grammatical unsound...liness.

(I'm not at all sure that the previous sentence IS grammatically sound, but I'm not trying to work it into the Texas constitution.)

"Dear diary, Stopped four blowers today..."

The thing about the Menil's Calder exhibit it has all these amazing detailed mobiles hanging from the ceiling and NO MOVEMENT. Unless I'm mistaken, this sculptor is the same one who designed the big mobile that hangs over the entrance of the NGA modern art wing--the one that's constantly in shifting around from people coming and going.

So, being the Smithsonian snob that I am, I wanted to see these mobiles MOVE, and decided to take matters into my own hands. Before I had emptied the last of the air in my lungs and while the metallic parts were starting to come alive, a guard stopped me mid-blow: "Ma'am--NO."

We sheepishly hurried through the rest of the exhibit, but not before I protested loudly to Ryan that they should at least have a fan on or something.

Clues

The Myers-Briggs personality profile I completed recently for work identified me as an "architect rational," a person in love with systems, grammar, and logic; stubborn when it comes to defending my values and ocassionally aloof (although not purposefully so).

When I started this job, I thought the parts I would most enjoy would be working with alumni and writing corps member stories. As it turns out, the alumni part often feels like a big pain in the ass, the writing part scares me, and what I REALLY love are the money management aspects: tracking, cross-referencing, grant-writing, pulling good queries to inform our fundraising efforts, and watching the dough roll in.

In the continuing 20-something battle of "what, exactly, am I going to DO with my life?" I find this information surprising and invaluable. This is exactly why I wanted to work before going to graduate school. Nobody expects to fall in love with systems management, but sometimes our career skills and interests, like our love lives, do not evolve as expected.

Clues everywhere, if you're smart enough to spot them.

Facial

After six layers of goo, she says, "And now this is the moisterizer," which strikes me as hilarious, since she's already given me five or six products to massage, pat, circle onto my face. Turns out all those layers were NOT moisterizers at all, but rather guardians, tonics, calmers, soothers, protectants, and/or plantidotes.

...But no one else is laughing, and they all have perfect skin, and I have a zit and wrinkles. I shut up and moisterize.

edit: I feel compelled to say that I also spent $50. Sooo worth it. In a month, I'm gonna look like a teenager. Only without the acne.

Ineffectiveness at its Finest

Or, how I learned to love copydotcom.

Here is my photo taking situation.

I have a very expensive digital camera full of pictures for work. I cannot download these pictures to my work laptop for two reasons:

1. The work laptop does not have WindowsXP, which comes with a built-in photo wizard.
2. The work laptop is set up not to execute any .exe files except the ones that have permission from our national office, meaning that I cannot download the photo software that came with the camera without a big hassle.

My solution to this dilemma used to be as such: I would download the pictures to my home laptop and either upload to fruitcakebrigade.com or burn them onto a disc in order to get the pics at work. This is before my home laptop LOST ITS MIND and turned into an Alzeheimer patient. Now, we have the following problems:

1. I cannot upload anything to fruitcakebrigade.com because the ftp program doesn't remember who I am and now wants to charge me to use it.
2. I cannot physically view pictures that I download from the camera because my laptop has lost the ability to digitally render them. Now I just get the "drawing failed" message.
3. Even though I can't SEE them, the pictures are still there. However, I can't burn a disc because the little plastic bit in the middle keeps popping off and as such, the drive refuses to burn. Not that I could make a music CD if I wanted to, because I-Tunes is also playing the "do I know you?" card.

So after fighting the little plastic bit for a good half hour, I find myself getting in my car and paying copydotcom $1.08 for three minutes of computer use.

Which leads me to wonder...what's the use of OWNING technology if its only purpose most days is to piss you off?

And at what point, dear readers, after purchasing one crazy laptop after another, does a person decide to just throw in the towel?

Goodbye, October, don't let the door hit you on your way out.

0.08

The best part about purchasing my Smart Home keychain breathalyzer is not the fact that it took a month before I realized that I was charged and it was never delivered. Nor was it the phone calls which made me realize that my purchase was potentially embarrassing ("Ma'am--for the third time--are you SURE you never received your, ahem, keychain breathalyzer?"), or trying to explain to my friends why I would spend $60 on such a device.

The BEST part was getting the catalogue full of fingerprint doorlocks, baby-sitter monitoring teddy bears with hidden cameras, toilet seats with remote-controlled bidets and other Jetsons-esque devices which led me to realize these Smart Home employees deal with people way sketchier than I.

After a second-battle with the Fed-Ex people, my package is being delivered on Monday to my work address, where I will blow with pride.

Same Old

"How's Austin?" I asked her.
"The same," she answered, with the unspoken understanding of "as here."

I have recently been fantasizing about running away and starting life in a new city, and her testimony hit home the fact that a new location won't erase problems. Until you work out all your stuff or simply let it go, it will hitchhike along with you.

Depressing, no?
I miss my friends.

Last night I watched the Scattered Pages play at Brasil's, two tables away from where I sat with Lana on one of our first outings in Houston. They were called "Good People" then, and looked and sounded different. They're every bit as charming as they were three years ago, but the city feels different to me: worn like a comfortable pair of jeans, raggedy hems and all. On those days where every familiar place feels like a landmine, I have to keep reminding myself that in a city of four million people, there are places and people yet to be discovered.

And in the meantime... gay boyfriends who will drag my ass off the computer on a Friday night to go to a sketchy club to see some band called The Pasty Skinny White Boys. SCORE!

Tracks

I've been wearing a suit to work for the past three days. And when I say "to work" I should really say "around the city" because that's where my TFA Week visits have taken me: extreme easts, souths, centrals, and west to this place called "Alief"... some of you Houstonians may have heard of it. In order to visit our corps members in their schools, I had to take my "never leave the loop" rule and throw it out the window.

In the process of outer-looping, I crossed a heck of a lot of railroad tracks. Trains everywhere, it seems, and construction to match. On my first visit to a high school in the Heights, our guest teacher was soon interrupted by metal clanging against metal from the renovation happening outside. I could listen to nothing else, but the students seemed immune. How long, I wondered, had they been living day to day with this constant noise pollution? (Before you chalk this up to an inner-city plague, I'm reminded of my freshman year in my suburban high school and the semester of seemingly constant fire alarms.)

From high school seniors to second grade... to seventh grade... to kindergarden... to third grade... to the Rice University mansion noshing on fois gras served by hot, hot wait staffers (who ARE those guys? are they students? YUM--and i don't mean the fois gras). If I were on Sex and the City, my evening would have ended differently; as it stands, I am the only one who gets to appreciate the fine craftsmanship of my suit... which the cat is now shedding on.

Each school had a different sense of community, different rules, different layouts, but every single classroom I visited had a sense of urgency present on the walls and in the air: We will reach our goals. We MUST reach our goals. Powerful testimony to an organization I am proud to be part of, one that I've crafted a living around for four years now.

I haven't been knitting or reading or doing much of anything extracurricular except coming home and collapsing, but I have been throwing my everything into this job. I am aware that I need balance to stay sane, but I also realize that the "balance" may not be 50/50 today. Somewhere along the way I lost myself to boys and unhealthy lifestyle choices, and I'm thinking that keeping this focus isn't such a bad thing for now.

Perhaps "Write EVERY DAY" is more than 10 percent. Let's aim for three times a week.

F*ck the suit. I'm going to change into jeans, grab a notebook, and go accept an invitation.

10 percent change

Towards creativity:
Post something every day. It doesn't have to be good. It doesn't have to be substantial. It doesn't have to make me feel better or impact anyone else, it just has to be new, and it has to keep coming. Also, guys, the comments have to go. Nothing personal. It's just gotta be all mine. Send me e-mails instead.

Towards family:
This one's tough. How to increase 10 percent when I'm already 50 percent in the hole? A card. A phone call. Say something I'm afraid to say. Yeah... start there.

Towards quality relationships:
Go somewhere completely new once a month. Alone if necessary. Instead of going to that place with the crowd full of emotional baggage, find a new place with new people. Not every time. Just once a month.

Two weeks ago I did "personal and professional alignment," which I shrugged off as bunk, but I was impressed by my manager's "10 percent changes" (ie. once a week, have lunch w/husband).

Last Friday, I engaged in "art therapy" with four relatively new people. Refreshing. We collaged, and I slept well.

Today was beautiful and cold. I wore my new jacket. I sat on a blanket in the sun and we had "work" outside while action planning for the week.

I saw a friend I don't see often enough.

I bought a new suit!

I went through the entire cycle of grief in one instant messenger conversation: shock, denial, anger, depression, acceptance, and finding a good listener. (I like to keep my small silly personal tragedies brief, concise, and fully documented.)

And tomorrow marks the first time since I stopped teaching and started working for an education non-profit that I get to go into a SCHOOL. First to a class of 12th graders, then to a 3rd grade class. Yep, in the suit.

And since I don't know how to end this, it will just end.

Forget the water cooler; triple espresso please

In the middle of a meeting with my boss today, when my action item list spilled off the legal pad onto a new sheet, I crawled under the table and refused to come out.

Luckily we have the type of professional relationship where this sort of behavior is acceptable. I hope.

Airborn

Benefit update: no tree haters at my table.
In fact, one of Houston's most influential liberal lawyers.
Which was great, 'cause I think trees are totally cool.
And they were all charming and welcoming.
And we possibly raised a lot of money, which is what I do now.
I did get reamed out by a guest early in the evening, but that's another story.
Tomorrow morning I fly out to DC for a national staff meeting and alumni summit.
I'm not ready, but at least I'm not alone.
Are these posts getting a little, "Today I did this and felt x way about it"?
Do you mind?
Do I care?
These days, it feels like Hurricane Katrina hit and has not stopped spinning.