Last night we convened at a friend's house for the second installment of our dinner party circuit, and it was another wonderful evening! There were 7 of us, all connected in various ways, from professional to personal, and in the setting of the large, bohemian cyprus house, it was as though we'd all been friends for years.

The evening started with wine, cheeses and crackers from whole foods; the spotlight on the bleu cheese and chardonnay crackers, but i can't overlook the spanish almonds in honey and the pecorino, either. huddled in the kitchen, we each took turns weaving in and out of one another to nosh at the platter on the counter, until someone had the bright idea to break out plates, which allowed us greater movement around the room, but with the added benefit of taking our delights with us.

we moved to the long wooden table, laden with moroccan stew, couscous, spiced kale, organic salad and yuzu beans, more wine, and lots of raucous conversation. it all started innocently enough, with discussion about the upcoming weddings of some of the women, the best parts of our week and ingredients of the dishes, but once the strawberry pie and homemade whipped cream hit the table, we were soon on the topic of gender studies, pornography, women's exploitation, strippers, sex drives and testosterone. everyone had an opinion, voices were climbing on top of one another, and h was the table-pounder. while there was no conclusive end to the discussion, shortly after 11 we all packed up and moved into the rainy night.

wednesday morning, feeling a little bit better.

my problem is this: i don't read the entire story. i don't absorb all of the facts or hit the minutiae, so i generally walk around with half of the story if i'm lucky, mostly just the gist. this prevents me from getting too deep, too overwhelmed, it keeps me on the surface, close to the exit. and it's about time i abandon my plans for escape. i feel as though most of my life has been lived superficially, with my back to the door, ready to make a break for it if it's not cool enough or it's too draggy. i want to bail when it's too hard or i fuck up or i lag behind. i say one snappy thing and suddenly it's all too much. i miss a few assignments and i want to withdrawal.

i have lacked commitment. i can no longer lack commitment, to my life or pursuits or time schedule or town or relationship or school, or anything. i enter into wonderful things, only i am too afraid of being consumed by them so i stay in the shallow end.

this is an excellent opportunity for me to begin reading the whole article, staying until the end, humbling myself when i have made a mistake, learning the entire concept, and sticking in there. when i do this, i feel i will be able to trust myself, trust what i know and how i do it, and then i will trust where my feet fall next.

i have a strange feeling of empowerment this morning, like a shift is occurring.

second official consecutive monday of unemployment, and the worthlessness is creeping in. without a modus operendi, even for just a few days, or a light at the end of the tunnel, my clever thoughts turn sour, my dirt-pounding runs seem futile, scrubbing the bathroom floor on my hands and knees never seems to really get it clean, and i am reduced to being a fat, unattractive, vapid waste of fucking air.

i need a job. or a hobby. hell, i should volunteer, even.

today, being without a car, even a shitty one with no muffler, i have, in chronological order:
eaten toast.
read the times.
emailed resumes and tutoring flyers.
rewashed all the dishes from the dishwasher by hand.
scrubbed the bathroom, including mixing CL with bleach, burning my lungs to an unknown degree.
washed laundry, including the handwashables.
ate lunch with h and bruce at carr's corner. the quiche was delightful. as was the strawberry pie, although i should have gotten a cup of coffee with it, since i was freezing all day.
lost the dog; wandered around the neighborhood yelling for a while until i began to attract attention.
found dog. in roommate's room.
tidied the rest of the house.
fretted about valentine's day, gifts for h, my low self-worth and how i might as well not even get anything for h, because everything i do is stupid and in poor, cheap taste because i am stupid and poor and have no taste. and fat.
ran. and then reran what i already ran. unwound some of the crazy in my tightly coiled , bored head.
read an essay on dada.
showered.
blogged.
about to buy a website.

the fucking end.