- Not a bad day. Mark the tech guy for our company came in and fixed our internet. All that was wrong? The router wasn’t plugged in. Once we figured that out (well, he figured it out. I simply hovered around until he realized the problem and pointed out obvious things like… “The screen isn’t on!”), we simply plugged it back in, restarted the server, and that’s it! Internet that works!

- Walked down for an iced chai with Adrienne. Chatted, generally felt better about life. Saw Mike the cute bartender, who was dropping off a job application. I tried not to sound too happy upon learning that (an innocent excuse to look at and appreciate him, rather than pretending to be interested in yet another mocktail or whatever it was that our company serves during Market).

- Learned some terrible news.

- Julie was back teaching step tonight, and so I did it for as long as I could before pain rippled through my stomach. I got up as we were starting the abs set, and then walked straight out the door as vertically as I could, limped down the stairs, and folded myself into the car. I don’t remember driving back, only being in pain the rest of the evening. Maybe it was from being sad, maybe not. Maybe it was the mozzarella I ate yesterday, or the pineapple spears, or who knows. Maybe it was the chai, or the vigorous activity, or karma.

Finally, these things are mostly to comfort the friends and family that were left behind and so I feel a tad self-indulgent, adding to the ranks of other messages like this one. But I too knew Jamie, perhaps not in the closest capacity, but knew him for a time nonetheless. Worked with him last year. Today I sat shocked for what seemed like the rest of the afternoon (was it?) when I heard the news about his death.

I’ll remember…. mostly how he smiled all the time. The way he ambled down my hall at odd hours, tossing a football back and forth between his hands. He’d come to see me if we hadn’t gotten the chance to catch up in a week or two, and then once I’d exchanged pleasantries and hugged him goodbye, he’d wander back down the hall knocking on everyone’s doors. Pause in the doorways. Smile and say hello and then ask them about their own lives.

I’d come downstairs while on duty some nights in the small hours. Usually (and uselessly) I would be resentful at having to do a round so late, especially when I was used to my rest (spoiled, I know). He’d be sitting there, bent over a book, and I’d sit with him, or hang over the edge of the window and bitch about my silly life. Then Jamie would swivel in his chair, pat me on the back, and smile. Add an empathetic comment, always just enough to make me feel better.

If he wasn’t working he’d be pacing the Sus lobby, or sitting at one of the square tables, similarly bent over a multitude of books and notes, working meticulously.

Yet he always had time for a smile and a small chat.

I hope… he went easily. And that if nothing else, he dreamed peacefully as he went. I think all of the outpouring of love and support on his FB profile says the rest that I would say.

Finally saw Field of Dreams. The cousin had convinced me to rent it and a copy that wasn’t corrupted arrived in the mailbox a little over a week ago. I haven’t gotten a chance to watch it until now, but today felt appropriate. So, instead of going to the Inman Park Festival today since it started to rain shortly after I returned from the grocery store, I sat down with two pieces of pizza and a beer. As the movie started I found myself feeling strangely content, more content than I have in a while.

These things made me happy today:

- the pizza. Mary from the office saw me going down to the mailbox and scolded me for missing the party this afternoon (a small community pizza party), but said she’d saved me some. So I took two pieces of leftover cheese, made polite conversation (offered her one of the beers I’d bought from the grocery store), and then went back to get the groceries out of my trunk.

- Negro Modelo with lime (although today I had to substitute because I forgot limes, and instead used lemon).

- that it’s the weekend.

- finding a Nike bathing suit that fits okay (gotta get rid of some winter weight though) and that was on sale although it wasn’t marked that way.

- picking up this, on sale finally, so I can stop coveting it.

- spring thunderstorms which shake the walls and last all afternoon on a lazy Saturday.

- my Swimp3, which is still buggy but whose replacement cord came in the mail last week, which has finally restored my desire to swim laps again.

- swimming 1000 meters today and while feeling the tension in my muscles, being no where near as tired as I would have been last year at this time.

- the ATOC and our forums.

What a horrible week.

I’ve got a lot of things on my mind, and I suppose I’ve spent too much time this week indulging in fruitless worrying over certain issues that I’ve been dealing with. I guess the least of all of them is over work.

There were hints that this was coming, even as early on as in November, when my boss would come breezing through the back office, waving her hands and asking the building’s planners why she couldn’t just get rid of the back offices. They would answer her that they couldn’t just do away with them because they are situated  between two bathrooms. She huffed and puffed and feigned ignorance, and this exchange repeated itself at least once a week for the next month.

Then there was nothing, except whispers of a tight budget, always the case (apparently) at this company. When three representatives quit, I started to worry but others tried to assuage my fears with the explanation that sales always has a high turnover.

This may be true, but how can you have a successful business without a firm base? And turnover can’t possibly be an excuse for why all of these reps quit all at once? Well, who knows.

And so then the announcement came on Thursday that we were selling 1/2 the showroom space to whoever wants it, and that two of the front offices would be moved into the empty back ones.

Now, for six months I’ve enjoyed relative peace and quiet with the back office being comprised of just Danielle, Bruce, and me. When Danielle left it became just Bruce and myself, and we seemed to bond closer in our relative isolation. And now, to bring the boss herself into the back where she will harp on us all day long… I could hardly bear the thought…

…especially when they informed me that my office would be Danielle’s old office, and that as a ’surprise’ they would be moving the copier into that space as well (which yes, will require ripping out the wrap-around desk mostly). And there was further talk of moving servers in there too, so that my “office” will be a supply room without a door, where they have jammed me in with my measly computer and crooked chair.

And the phone lines, which means they have not even considered hiring a replacement receptionist. So, I’m still doing two jobs.

Well, at least the end of the day was made a little bit better when Adrienne suggested we go get some soda. We dawdled around the sundry shop and selected crisps and a couple drinks, and then walked slowly back upstairs.

And again… at least it’s Friday.

So Lost finally came back on today.

…

OMGWTF.

!

I don’t even know what to say! Except I want it to be next Thursday now!

I hate those emails.

Today, except for those messages, it was beautiful. Perfect weather.

I went to the gym and then to our warehouse, where I walked around in the sun and fingered all of the things I couldn’t have. Later, my aunt dropped off her children so they too could shop at the warehouse sale. We watched movies and colored. Dinner was quick but friendly, at a small pub close to home. We sat outside. The wind felt sweet on my face, and the evening has passed pleasantly since then.

I have been playing with whether or not I should write. I feel as though words have left me recently, that I have nothing left to say. Is it simply extreme contentment? Since there’s little conflict left in my life, I cannot translate that into story anymore?

I hope that’s the reason. What a nice change it will be.

…the elevator dings, the door slides open, and you can see Bruce’s reflection in the silver door panels. He’s smiling and holding his bag of food and keys, his face twisted in a mischievous grin.

“We see you, Cousin,” Carrie calls from the bench beside me, where we’ve been sorting through her mail and ripping the junk into shreds before depositing them in the garbage. “Why don’t you come out now?”

We hear his giggle and the doors slide shut again. The elevator descends back down the shaft. Several moments later the door reopens and the process begins again, only this time both of us yell that we can see him holding the elevator car there. Bruce merges, giggling some more.

…. when the guy from maintenance, of indeterminate age, who is at least two heads taller than me and probably three times my weight, and who has a round, boyish face, keeps coming upstairs for the express purpose of asking me to lunch. Once again, I must invent an excuse and quickly get back to ‘work.’

See? Bruce says after the man leaves. I told you it’s those pants.

He refers to the pedal-pushers I’m wearing, or white, short capris that made me feel spring-like and ready for Friday. I groan. “I’m never wearing these pants again!”

He laughs, and we slink back to our respective desks.
It’s Friday!

Yesterday, early in the morning, I started out to drive to the doctor’s. I drove west from my apartment and the sun was up; it felt good getting up but not being required to be at work so early, missing the sunrise. I drove and drove, sometimes puzzling over the directions to the office, mostly just squinting at the street signs as I passed them. I passed ramshackle used car lots,  a “Sho Nuff Seafood” restaurant, and old row houses falling into decay. Okay, I kept thinking, in another mile I’ll turn around and go back. And as I was about to, I saw the street I wanted.

The whole venture seemed wrong because I turned into an apartment complex. And finally, I saw the hand-written sign for the office. In the apartment building. There were slightly rough-looking people hanging around on the curb. They glared as I drove by slowly, for I was not the MARTA bus they were waiting for, but an obviously lost tourist (yes, I still have my Maryland plates).

I decided then and there that no needle from this facility would ever touch my body. Having passed a particularly clean, upscale office park with doctors’ practice names emblazoned on the outside, I wondered why of all places I had picked this one to attend. Because I didn’t do my research? Because I was looking for something with a date available in the next six months? Both, really.

So I hightailed it out of the ghetto and drove around for a little bit before deciding to go back to work. Talked to the new boy. Let my car warm in the sun. Really it was a pleasant and quiet morning, a good way to start the day.

Molière surprised me. Of course, I had nothing to compare it to, and so I went into this movie fresh, without expectations. It centered around (a fictionalized life of) Jean Baptiste Poquelin, whose stage name was Molière, and told a story of how he came to write comedy. Of course, the real story was nothing like the movie, but the tale told here was believable, funny, and at times touching.  I enjoyed it for its period soundtrack, the humor, and the costuming.

We Own the Night… I didn’t find to be particularly captivating. Maybe I was distracted during this movie or something, but the plot seemed thrown together and a bit contrived at points. The characters, I felt, changed far too dramatically over the course of events (tragic as they were) to be believable, and this resulted in my laughing hysterically at the very end scene. Eva Mendes’ character seemed pointless, as well (no, I cannot stand her as an actress). Just saying.

What a strange weekend.

I haven’t felt compelled to write much recently, as I’ve been quietly re-examining certain facets of my life. Plus, with a Market going on in High Point, I’ve had extra responsibility around the office and this has made me tired and irritable at night, with little or no drive to do anything other than scrape together some food and sit down in front of my computer and let my eyes glaze over. After the gym, of course.

Well, I went to a shindig at Danielle’s and had my first worthy crabcakes since leaving Maryland. Considering they were hand-made with nothing to pollute the cake itself, and made no less by a Marylander, they were pretty damn good. I met some people, played with Kobi, and then went home feeling a bit tired and feverish.

Then there was an incident that occurred in the apartment building behind me, and police came and all that jazz. I won’t post it because it will give the exact location to where I live, but things settled quite quickly. And at the very least, it was an excuse to go out and meet the neighbors. Now I have a couple names and faces of the people I live by, at least.

Sunday was uneventful, except that the Mexicans flooded their apartment and consequently the water for the whole building was shut off. I kept forgetting this though, even while I cooked for myself a large hunk of salmon with goat cheese and chives. My first real stab at ‘cooking’ anything (although all I did was roast the salmon in the oven and check it once in a while to make sure it wasn’t either too raw or too burned). All in all, it was a fantastic dinner. So fantastic that I drank the Brita water in a wine glass. Well, I felt a bit like a schmuck drinking out of a dirty glass from the sink, and with fish and food that is so much nicer than my usual fare of lettuce leaves and fish sticks or left over pasta from the weekend… it seemed fitting.

The movies:

I was expecting not to like Michael Clayton, because for some reason I simply cannot stand George Clooney. And this movie was so slow I ended up drifting off the first time through it, so I split it in half and watch the rest of it the next day. Finally, around three-quarters of the way through it picked up and actually interested me. It turned out not too badly. Just very slow and subtle, not your typical lawyer drama or what not. I wouldn’t buy it, but it’s worth watching at least.

Rendition was better than I expected. I was watching this during that incident in my complex so with the police wandering around and me trying to take pictures (but failing in my covert operations because the flash went off), I felt jittery and nervous during this film. It involved a couple of story lines intersecting, but what I found interesting was that one of the stories was placed back in time, and you are not aware of it until the very end. Overall, the main characters pretty much get what they deserve, and things turn out relatively okay in the end. Decent.

And finally, Becoming Jane started off just like Pride and Prejudice and then took a downward spiral. Had I known much about Jane Austen’s life this would not have surprised me, but seeing as how I didn’t, I felt glum and depressed after this movie ended. No, I didn’t realize James McAvoy was in it when I rented it, but I was pleasantly surprised that he was (and all the more interested in finishing the movie).