Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Capsized, Erring on the Edge of Safe


Click on The Con

I may have figured out a way to blog songs.

The Pope is sorry for you all.

But I don't know what he means!

Friday, July 27, 2007


To say that the last few days have been a rollercoaster would be to grievously underestimate how frightening, how pit-falling, rollercoasters can be.

Especially to the human heart.

I stood there on a balcony of the most expensive hotel in Edinburgh, illegally smoking a cigarete, in my pajamas, the events of the day reverberating raucously in my head, my inadequacies flying in my face and battering me like bats.

Encircle me, I need to be taken down. (new Tegan and Sara song lyric that is resonating in perhaps every single wrong way)

I stood there and looked out over the beautiful city that I have a hand engraved invitation to, and the only thing I can think is, I'm so completely unworthy and unprepared for this.

Please don't misunderstand me. I know what I do well. I do it well, everyone says so. But what this is is completely untread territory. I don't know what to do, and every step I take appears to be wrong, every impression is suspect, every instinct is rebuked and I am lost and falling and drowning all at the same time.

Here's where I take out my glass heart and beat it against the first stone thing I come to.

There are such highs and they are tinged with wonder, and then there are lows, that are probably not lows, but everything is so important, and there is no room for mistakes, and that is all I seem to be doing.

I'm trying, oh my god I'm trying so hard, but there are no breaks, and even where there is good news there are hard times, and why doesn't it ever get any easier.

And he's right here. He's here when I need him and he's here when I don't, and sometimes I wonder why he stays. Because even when I need him I turn away because I hate the fact that I need anyone or anything. Except Lucy because she knows I need her and I know she needs me and in our intensely private and exclusive little sphere of vulnerability there is nothing that is misunderstood.

And then there are mechanics, computers, phones that don't work easily - time differences, returns to offices that were trashed in your absence, trashed with the expectation that Salome would just fix everything when she returned, because that is what she does, isn't it? She fixes things. She can't build them, because she doesn't know how, or doesn't do it right, or her observations and instincts are wildly incorrect, but you know what?

If you break something, I will know how to fix it for you. Even if I can't fix what I break. Even then.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007


There is so much going on right now, there is so much that has been going on.

I'm reeling from the activity, the cities and the work. I'm tired. I go to bed tired, I wake up tired, and I drink massive amounts of caffeine to try and fend off the loopy "not quite there" feeling in my head.

That being said, I would not trade this for anything. In the last three days I've had more great things happen to me than I have had in years. (except 8/26/06), or (1/21/04) perhaps, or especially, especially (5/12/07).

On Sunday night I caught a flight to NYC.
I arrived very early Monday morning and took a cab from JFK Airport to the Ritz Carlton Battery Park. I checked in and went up to my room and I wheeled in my luggage and stopped dead, my mouth hanging open. Because the huge picture window in my room looked out at an unobstructed view of the statue of Liberty. Unobstructed view of Ellis Island and the Harbor. It was incredible.

It was so incredible that for the two days I stayed there, everytime I was in my room, I stood at the window and looked at the statue. It was breathtaking.

So here is a brief summary of what's been going on.


10:00am - arrive at hotel. Shower, change and walk to a local bakery for coffee, bagel.
11:30am - Meet up with SK (SK WAS THERE!!!) We have another coffee and sit in the bakery's outside area and talk.
1:00pm - go back to room and read docs for my 2:00pm meeting.
2:00pm - meet with one group - meeting goes until
3:00pm - meet with another group - meeting goes until
4:00pm - Meet with major new job group forum - meeting lasts until
6:45pm - run upstairs to room and change clothes
7:15pm - Meet with new partners (Aye - the Scots) and catch cabs to
7:30pm - Il Buco Wine Cellar - private dining event in wine storage basement of great Tuscan restaurant
We drink copious amounts of wine and have discussions and a five course meal until
11:30 - return to the hotel. SK calls me - they're at the bar.
11:35pm - bar with great people from my company until
1:15 am - back to the room and I lay down, but too wired to sleep - because tomorrow is exciting.


6:15am - wake up call
6:20am - coffee is delivered. I am shaky and strung out from lack of sleep. Shower and put on my new, gorgeous suit and awesome black pointy toed slingbacks. Look like a million bucks. Feel like a billion.
7:30am - meet up with members of my company and walk to the NYSE.
7:50am - uh oh, these shoes pinch my toes. This might be a problem. Five blocks is 10 miles in pinchy shoes.
8:30am - We're through Security and into the Board Room of the NYSE, for a plated dinner before we ring the opening bell.
9:20am - We're advised to eat eat eat, finish quickly because we're leaving in minutes. The senior management goes to the podium, the rest of us are escorted to the trading floor.
THE TRADING FLOOR is unbelievable. Scary, so much chaos, so much activity. People running (RUNNING, full out speed) from station to station, phones ringing, people shouting and traders making trades by tapping the screens of computers that are mounted high on the booth walls.
9:30am - My company rings the opening bell at the NYSE. On the floor, we tear up, smile like lunatics and clap until our hands hurt. We are all of us, as one, proud and elated for this moment. It is our 10 year anniversary as a publicly traded company on the NYSE. We are toured around the floor and a kind trader explains what he is doing to us. It makes absolutely no sense. I look around to all the really smart people I work with, and they have no idea, either. I feel better.
11:00am - Company Board Meeting in the Board Room of the NYSE. I'm invited to sit in on the Scottish presentation. I'm asked to tell the Board about myself. They ask me a question, I answer it. A board member I've worked with speaks up after I'm done and gives me his highest support. The Scots pass out high quality scotch to the directors. We leave.
Walking back to the hotel I am sure - THESE SHOES HURT. 5 blocks is now 16 miles, and I imagine there will be blood on my feet when I take them off.
12:00pm - back at the hotel - I run upstairs, blow kisses to the statue and take the wretched shoes off. I put on comfy black sandals, take off my suit jacket and run back downstairs.
12:15pm - The van I've arranged arrives and we pile in, taking the Scots on a tour of one of our current construction projects, adjacent to the East River. The scope of the project is breathtaking. They are pounding over 1,000 pilons into the ground because it is fill. There is a Thunk Thunk Thunk of the piling machine ringing in the background. We are all awed by the scope of this project.
3:30pm - the Van drops us back at the hotel. I rush upstairs and grab my binder because
4:00pm - meeting with another group that lasts until
6:00pm - run upstairs to the room - change into dinner clothes. SK comes over and we toast to our fortunate lives with a little champagne (gift from the scots to me).
7:00pm - dinner with the folks from my company. It is nice and lasts until
10:00pm - a huge group of us go out to Tribeca, we are at the bar until someone needs nachos and we leave in search of nachos.
12:15am - we are back at the hotel and the bar is closed, so we do a slumber party (with five of us girls) in the room of one of the coolest ladies at my company.
3:00am - we all leave the room and go back to our rooms to go to bed.
4:15am - I am finally falling asleep.


8:15am - my wake up call. I get up, there's coffee. I'm in bad shape.
9:00am - I'm in my colleague's room for a call. The person we're calling has forgotten, so we drink coffee and chat and look out at the incredibly stormy weather that is raging outside. Thunder, lightning. We turn on the tv and learn that all flights out of NY airports are delayed. We buy tickets for the train from NY to Boston to be safe (we have a 2pm flight scheduled.)
10:00am - I'm back in my room, and I go back to bed for two hours.
12:15pm - I get up - shower, dress and pack up.
1:00pm - check-out, store my bags and stroll around Battery Park until
2:05pm - my colleague is off her call and we take a cab to Penn Station
3:00pm - our express train from NYC is completely sold out, everyone has departed the airports to try and get to Boston and other places.
6:30pm - we arrive in Boston - go to our hotel and check-in. It is a dump.
7:30pm - we stroll around Boston Common, my colleague went to school here and she tells me about the things we pass.
10:00pm - I'm home and call the Pope, because I miss him and love him.

Midnight - I'm going to bed.


Thursday, July 12, 2007

I have nothing to say.

I mean, really, I don't have anything to say.
I'm sitting here, craving a cigarette, but spending my time with you lot, and there is really nothing to report.

Except maybe this:

On Sunday I'm flying to New York, to New York City - to stay in the Ritz Carlton (Battery Park) and then attend some meetings and then on Tuesday, my company is going to ring the opening bell at the NYSE. I don't know that I'll be at all visible, I was thinking so, but lately have gotten some emails that make me think I'll be off to the side and not on camera (and I was totally going to do the Carol Burnett thing as a signal to my mom that I love her and wish she was there with me) and that really bums me out, because I bought a really nice suit for it.

After NYSE (which still, how cool, because we'll be given a tour of the trading floor, and really, who gets to do that? One of the requirements is that women in sleeveless dresses and open toed shoes are not allowed, presumably because you'll get punched and tromped on what with all the frenzied people throwing paper and bidding?

Who knows. Anyway, I need to get shoes.

From NY I am flying then to Boston. I'll be in Boston for one day on a top secret sleuthing mission and then I fly to Edinburgh. I'll then be in Edinburgh for 6 days. Three of them to spend searching for a home and learning the area, and three of them spent with coworkers for the design of our new buildings.

Two full days of meetings with little ones being added on.
We look to start at 7:00am each day and end approximately 10 or 11pm.
But I will be with one of my mentors, a man who has encouraged me at every step I've taken, the man who would not fire me when I first started working there, no matter that I was late to work every single day.

And I was the receptionist. It was fairly important that I be there.
At one point, because I got in at 8:15 for my 8:00am shift every day for a year, this kind mentor-man changed my hours to an 8:30am start, whereupon I promptly started coming in at 8:45am.

I am just hardwired to wake up late. Always, always, always late.

I get home on the 26th. I'll be posting as I can, because I've been given a laptop.
I said I needed to keep up on my work emails, but really I just needed to be able to check my gossip sites and talk to you folks.

I'll be in touch,


p.s. Those mosquito hawks are out in force. And when I say out in force, I mean dotting the walls of my house with a vengeance. They are stupid, and tend to buzz all around me, knocking against me until I slap them away with a frenzy. And sometimes they die, and leave little pellets of themselves behind. And I don't know if that's poop, babies or brains. And this fact simultaneously skeeges and fascinates me.

That is all.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Special Letter July 9, 2007

Dear Size 4 Women Who Put Your Pants in the Macy's Clearance Section Clearly Marked L - XL,

You are despicable bitches.

Fat Assedly,


Friday, July 06, 2007

Letters July 2007

Dear Tough-Looking Older Gentleman with the Tats Walking the Small, White Poodle:

Awwwww. One look at you and I knew that was your wife's dog.
His little sparkled collar goes great with the big anchor tattoo on your forearm.
I was fully prepared to drive by you, wave and have you smirk with embarrassment while hacking out a lungful, just to prove your testosterone, when you did the most surprising thing: You didn't see me wave because you were watching this tiny white poodle with so much affection and love that your attention was decidedly elsewhere.
So I think this: That is your wife's dog, but you love it more than she does.

Keep on Rocking In the Free World,


Dear People Who Schedule Conference Calls at 7:00am in the morning Pacific Standard Time:

Huh? Whaaaa? (clears throat) (chokes down night hack) (gulps coffee) (squeaks out a "YES" or "No" as appropriate).
Sorry about that. I gave it my all. And that wasn't a lot.




Your daughter may work at Hooters, but I assure you my security officers are not perverts. They may be overzealous, yes, because I never asked them to monitor the parking tags of a lot licensed to a parking company, but they are not perverts.
And when you showed up at my site 10 minutes after I had gone home, drunk and threatening to bring a gun to "do the job" to my security officer?

YOU ARE LUCKY I WAS NOT THERE. I would have kicked your ass back to the trailer park you lousy piece of shit.
My security officer tried to talk you down, because he is a gentleman and gives everyone the benefit of the doubt (not the best thing in a security guard tasked with protecting the site from batshit insane people like you) but when you asked him to call the property manager and he refused, saying you could sober up and see her tomorrow? He was doing you a favor. Because when I found out about this tonight I got your parking permit revoked and put out an APB on your sorry ass. If you show up when the guards are there they will call 911. If you show up when I am there I will bust your ass personally. For my guards and for all the times I've been annoyed and had to suck it up.

I will call the cops only after I have verbally assaulted you within an inch of YOUR life, you lowlife, drunk-ass scum.

You're a filthy, lousy degenerate,

Dear People Who Weren't Home Whose House We Set on Fire with Fireworks But Quickly Put Out:

Whew. Was THAT ever exciting. You should buy that neighbor dinner, because he scrambled up onto your roof faster than a howler monkey after (whatever howler monkeys really like and will chase). And MY FRIEND, Gaia, ran so fast I think her 10 month pregnant belly was left in her yard. (her hips hurt today, poor, darling lovely friend).

We are so sorry about your house. No confirmation it was us, but it probably was. What are you doing being out of town on the 4th of July in a city where fireworks are legal with that old cedar shingle roof? I think you should hold yourself responsible. If you ever want to kill a great fireworks show, set a house on fire.

The fire was put out, not much damage, no one was hurt and I've never seen two 15 year old kids clean up fireworks detritus so fast in my entire life. But then, I'd never seen a 10 month pregnant woman move that fast, either. Gaia rocks and she could still beat you in a footrace.