Time Passing By

I've been writing at my newspaper gig, seemingly non-stop since my last post. It left me completely forgetting about this free-space, so to speak. There's a lull (and I have some time to kill)so inspiration calls me to my keyboard once again.

The opportunity to write for myself comes and goes and I have a few half-full journals to prove it. Getting it into a cohesive project has yet to happen, however, the opportunity may be on my horizon. Last month, George and I talked about him supporting my desire to teach full-time next fall. The next week, my boss at the college where I adjunct said she would "try" and slot me for a full-time temporary position. Hooray- but I'll believe it when it's affirmed next spring.

A year ago, I was beyond miserable with my city job and was about to eulogize my grandmother at her memorial service. I stuck it out, thanks to George's seemingly endless amount of support and here I am a stronger, wiser woman. Central Park used to be my sobbing ground, now it's the sanctuary it should be for me during lunch breaks.

Last year, my relationship with my older sister was getting better but still a little awkward. Last night, we went to a concert at the Garden and the rapport we used to have before she got married returned. It just showed up over pad thai and carried us on the train ride home. Even though I'm the younger sister, I took the train part way home with her and made her call me when she made her connection. She doesn't like the city much and it was so late at night I just wanted to be sure.

My life as a writer continues to expand and change as well. My friend from grad school started up an ezine which I want to submit something to. I have to dig through my work and see what's worthy of submission.

At the newspaper, I've written theater reviews, concert reviews, walked through a golf course converted to an outdoor concert space to review a festival, and the list goes on. Sure, I'm getting paid peanuts but it does pay a bill or two that finds its way to my mailbox every month.

The one part of my life that I cannot write about is the specifics about George and me. Partly it's to protect our privacy and partly because I simply cannot put it into words.

I could list adjectives: enthralling, romantic, comfortable, helpful, supportive, predictable.

I will say this: we are the Tortoise (me) and the Hare (him) when it comes our approach to life. This will take some struggles to adjust to if we ever change the status of our relationship. I want to both move forward and hang back where we are at the same time. He tells me how he feels (sometimes) but I cannot put it into words here.

A year from now, I really hope I'm not writing a blog entry from this desk where I sit. I want to be home, making dinner and having a glass of wine. And I want a puppy next to me too :)

Buzz Is Ruining My Life

I swear he is and we haven't even met yet. Since he is not one of George's heroes (it's Winston Churchill) I think I can delicately vent here about why this man is ruining my vacation plans for the rest of '09.

If you've been following along with me the last few months, I've been wondering what exactly is next. I've been "trying" to work harder and smarter. About a month ago I was told my performance at work was not up to par and my position was possibly going down to part-time. I kept it together until my lunch and went for a good cry in Central Park. I went on a short trip at the end of that week which was the best thing I could do mentally. Literally walking away was so beneficial to get some perspective.

I'm about 4 weeks into "the hunt" to get a new job when I'm whisked into yet another meeting to get my annual review. A very sudden 180 happens and I'm told that not only is my work on par but in lieu of a raise (they can't afford the $$) I'm getting an extra week of vacation. Yes- this is my work life. One day I'm in hell the next day in paradise.

So I confer with George about it and it's his turn to get the okay from his work for the extra week. This is part of relationships where you have to "work it out". His boss has already ok'd our original week in August but is now on the verge of redacting it in the name of a major shift of workload at the firm. George, being the amazing boyfriend, tells the boss that his traveling companion (without giving its gender) has already booked the time. And this is when it gets cute- the boss asks if it's a lady with a smirk on his face. George affirms it and gets the okay. That night I insist that we get this boss man a drink after work sometime. We'll see.

So how does Buzz come and screw up my life?
Well I wanted to go away in Sept., George can't make it and the week he's free in October Buzz is coming to my work for an event and I'll probably have to be here as backup to the Events Manager. Should I pray about this or just go and buy George's boss a bottle of expensive wine as a bribe? Maybe I'll do both ;-)

Real Girlfriend of New Jersey

I must be the luckiest girlfriend in the world (or at least N. New Jersey). I spent part of the weekend up in George's neck of the woods and got spoiled with the following treats:

1. Date in the James McFaul Environmental Center. There were lots of fun things to see (peacock opening its feathers W-O-W!) We only got a little wet towards the end.

2. Watching cooking shows on Sunday afternoon because I was coming down with his cold. I'm sure I'll be doing my part this fall watching football games on Sunday for his fantasy football thingie.

3. Yummy steak cooked on the grill by George's dad. His dad has the best stories of growing up on Long Island Sound. Last night was telling me about how many boats he built as a pre-teen. And I thought reading Socrates and Plato was a challenge at that age!

Citizen Spitzer

I was walking up Fifth Avenue to work this morning and across the sidewalk was no other than Mr. Spitzer. When the scandal revolving around him broke the day I began my current job, 16 months ago, I thought that it was good he was knocked off his high horse. He spent the last year in "hiding" and has gone back to work I guess. But looking across the street at someone who was such a public figure made me think of the Icarus story in Greek mythology.

For those of you who did not take 3 years of Latin, Icarus was the figure who built wax wings so he could fly. His father, Daedalus, warned him not to fly too close to the sun. But he did and plunged to his death into the sea.

I believe both Mr. Spitzer and John Edwards (see my blog post last month) suffered a similar temptation with wax wings of another kind, women. I guess you could also call it rock star syndrome but still I admire Mrs. Spitzer and Mrs. Edwards (despite her using it to launch her memoirs) for forgiving their respective husband.

An old friend reminded me the other day not to throw the first stone when it came to criticizing other people's fidelity but it doesn't mean I can't use it as a lesson in my own life. Fidelity is a cornerstone to my relationship with George because it's bound up with trust.

However, I'd have to be outta my mind to look at any other guy the way I do at him. George says he has never noticed a beautiful woman walking down the street and while I tease him about that, I really believe it's true.

Dangerous Love

Like many who are fascinated with the Craiglist's killer story, I was not surprised to learn that Philip Markoff and Megan McAllister have canceled their engagement. Apparently her parents will be using whatever money they haven't lost to deposits (the band the booked refunded their money) on a lawyer for their daughter. I just feel so sorry for Megan, I truly do. I know many are thinking: hey didn't she noticed that her fiancee had womens' underwear ( I depise the word panties, it sounds so creepy) in their apartment? And she will have to rebuild her reputation and have to (when she's ready) re-enter the dreaded dating pool.

Another form of dangerous love is dealing with an unwanted advance in the workplace. At one of my many jobs one of my co-workers is quite upset (and rightly so) that her boss will not stop pursuing her despite her relating her dis-interest. Unfortunately she knows that this means she has to look for another job because she knows if she complains she might as well look for another job anyhow.

Yesterday, I was getting to know a new friend better and we talked about why women put up with abuse in a relationship. We both know of a woman who is with an abusive husband. I remember picking our my friend's wedding gift based on what likely her future husband would not use to throw at or hit her with.

Luckily my new chicka and I are in relationships as safe as they could possibly be.