Bright Yellow World

2009-08-12T23:36:00.001-07:00

Waved Albatross
Originally uploaded by Wiggum03

Wedding folks

2007-09-10T09:58:00.001-07:00

DSC01934.jpg
Originally uploaded by abbersnail

We're moving!

2007-04-11T13:29:00.000-07:00

Hey you! I know you! You've been reading my blog!

Okay, maybe you haven't been reading, maybe you just happened to drop by. Or maybe you've stumbled here by accident.

Regardless, if you're looking for me, I'm not here anymore. I'm upgrading to the world of the dot-com. Come visit me! (Oh, and on the off chance that you've linked me on your sidebar, I'd love you to make the change there, too!)

http://brightyellowworld.com

See you there!

All that glitters...

2007-04-10T16:46:00.000-07:00

I've been at my "new job" for a month, and I love it. I feel a bit like I've scammed the universe into giving me a job that is beyond perfect for me, and I'm just waiting to get caught in the act. Sure, like any job, there are things I don't like, but they are few and far between. Overall, my job is an absurd amount of fun.

We're talking, there is a byline in my budget for glitter. Glitter, people. This is not reality.

I'm designing Outreach programs for a small non-profit music festival in San Fran. Basically, that just means that I'm coming up with new ways to show people how to relate to the arts. I like to hope that my programs will put the performing and fine arts back into the vernacular language of our culture, but that might be a bit far-fetched. Regardless, I'm starting out with a small-ish kids' program. I'm putting on ten events in conjunction with our concerts, and every one of them makes me smile. There's a day when we're having a professional muralist come in and work with the kids. We're having a "rock band petting zoo," where the kids can try out the different instruments and hear how they sound up close. We're making Mardi Gras masks, Batik flags, and maracas out of mailing tubes and pinto beans.

I can honestly say that I've never done work that makes me feel this happy. Perhaps it's a bit early in the process to make a judgment call like this, but I really feel like I could build an amazing program, one that will make me proud of what I do. I arrive to work (and leave, as well) feeling hopeful about my world. It's a new feeling for me in recent years, the feeling that life is all going to work out for the best. It's a feeling that I'm growing accustomed to, and one that I would love to snuggle into like a fluffy blanket. This might sound ridiculous, but this job makes me feel, oddly, "safe." It's refreshing to feel like my world doesn't revolve around myself every single moment. And yes, the blog is an odd forum to be making that statement, I realize, being entirely self-motivated and me-centered. What I mean, I suppose, is that this job makes me feel like my identity isn't tied so much to who likes me (or doesn't), my single-ness, my appearance, whatever. My identity also isn't tied to my playing, the amount of time I spent practicing, or what I'm capable of learning to play tomorrow.

Does that sound crazy? I guess it probably is, particularly for those of you who've been in the "real world" for longer than I have. Maybe it's just getting out of school, or maybe my job really is the reason behind it. I just finally feel at home in my life.

And the glitter doesn't hurt!

Boys drool

2007-04-09T13:57:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago, Mushroom Man stood me up. I should elaborate, I suppose, by saying that, on Saturday, we made plans for Thursday. When I called on Thursday to find out what time he'd like to come over for dinner, he called me back to say that "something came up." He then suggested that perhaps we get together the following Sunday or Monday, and promised he'd call back the next day (Friday) to make plans.

He has never called.

Now, normally I'd just cut my losses and move on. There are two problems, however, that leave me wondering at my next course of action.

1. He is my friend (and has been, for almost two years), and his place of work is one of my favorite places on Earth. So I can't/won't stop going by just to avoid him.
2. We dated/whatevered for over four months.

I realize that there's nothing I can do to change his behavior. And I really have no desire to pursue dating him after this debacle. Yes, there was more drama involved than I'm divulging, but really... you don't need to know all the idiot-girl moments of "Why isn't he calling me?," or "What does it all mean???" And, though many people don't believe me, I have no intention of "trying to teach him a lesson." The reality is that if he's insensitive and careless enough to do this, he won't give a rat's ass what I think of him or his behavior. And expressing my aggravation will only stress me out. I'm all about keeping myself comfortable at the moment. In light of all this, I think I've earned that little bit of selfishness.

The question remains, however: What do I do? I'm annoyed that he is proving to be such an infant. Really, just saying to me, "Abs, I'm not really feeling it, thanks but no thanks," would have been sufficient. And I've basically asked him several times if that's how he's feeling. I'm frustrated that his actions (or lack thereof) are now creating a situation that requires resolving, when plain honesty would have alleviated any need for that. And I'm embarrassed, because now I feel like a jackass for spending four months on someone who clearly didn't give a shit about me.

(Is it possible that this is the cause of the recent crankiness? Hmmmmmm... Jury says yes.)

So, blogosphere, how do you handle this? Or, more accurately, how do I handle this?

In other news, I have a date with someone new and nice tomorrow, so I'm not giving up hope. Just irritated.

ACK!

2007-04-06T18:39:00.000-07:00

Okay, folks. I do not like my template. And I do not like my blogger template options. And I just checked out wordpress (whose templates are waaaaay prettier), and I immediately became SERIOUSLY STRESSED OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Honestly, I can't believe that this is bothering me so much. I mean, I really didn't think that blogging and I were such close pals that the notion of switching things would cause me anxiety.

I am thinking of doing the dot-com thing, but I frankly wouldn't even know how to begin with that.

So. Here's the question: what do you all use, how do you create your templates, and SHOULD I REALLY BE FEELING LIKE SUCH A FREAK OF NATURE RIGHT NOW?????????????

I need an Easter miracle. And some advice.

Knock on wood

2007-04-06T11:13:00.000-07:00

My dad used to tell me that I was born under a lucky star. Perhaps this is a self-fulfilling prophecy, but I've always felt like a remarkably lucky person. And no, I don't mean "I feel so blessed to live the life I live" and blah blah blah. I don't mean anything deep or meaningful. I mean that small, insignificant, and stupidly lucky things tend to happen. For instance, I tend to drive up to a destination just as the person parked out front is leaving. I win raffles, which I enter on a whim and completely forget about. I've never broken a bone, despite inherent clumsiness and an inability to stand upright for an entire day.

Once, when I was a kid, we were at an amusement park. I think I was maybe five or six years old. I was an awkward kid, chubby, with bad hair and worse clothes. I was thoroughly uncoordinated, and I cringe when I think of myself walking, running, or (sweet lord!) throwing things. Despite this, I entered one of those impossible carnival games. You know, the one with the zillions of glass coke bottles, and you throw a ring from far-ish away and try to get it over one of the bottles? Well, on the first try, I got the ring over the bottle. And, given my choice of prize, I selected a GIGANTIC, white stuffed buffalo. And by "gigantic," I mean six feet long, four feet tall, three feet wide. I should mention that it was the beginning of our long day at the park, meaning that my mother had to carry this thing around on her back for another eight hours.

Apparently, my mother is not an inherently lucky person. But god, is she incredibly patient!

What made me remember all of this, however, was that yesterday someone mentioned a cakewalk. I don't remember who, and my apologies for not linking to you. At any rate, I had this really funny, vague memory of my first-ever cakewalk, when I was really young.

I remember the music, I remember that I was wearing a yellow dress. I remember that my mom made Sis and I stick together, and I kept trying to separate from her and get my own spot (yeah... sorry about that...) and she started crying. Finally, the cakewalk lady just told my mom to let us each have a spot. I remember each kid got a cupcake when they were out. And I remember, vividly, the disappointment of discovering that I was the last one left, and the realization that they were out of cupcakes. And the utter delight of discovering that, instead, I alone was to receive a full-sized chocolate cake.

I never said I was a particularly bright child. Just lucky.

In Birmingham they love the guv'ner...

2007-04-05T09:23:00.000-07:00

Something that you already knew about me: in many ways, I am still a Southerner, despite calling San Fran my home. I like my tea sweet, my chicken fried, and my bread in the form of biscuits. I have a weakness for gigantic, hot-rollered hair. My liquor of choice is bourbon (seriously), and college football season inspires in me some kind of near-religious fervor. And, if I know you well enough and trust you not to judge me, I have an accent.

And when I'm in a bad mood, there is one thing that I know, without question, will soothe the savage beast:

Southern Rock music.

Which is why, last night, I found myself in my living room, rocking out to Free Bird in my underwear. There was air guitar. There was major ass-shaking and a few high-kicks. I may or may not have twisted my ankle. And I won't even tell you how many times I played the song on repeat. Nor will I tell you how many times it was followed by both Sweet Home Alabama AND Black Water, by the Doobie Brothers.

You can take the girl out of the South, but...

Pout

2007-04-04T15:04:00.000-07:00

My crankypants are pulled up HIGH today.

Not only did I achieve very few hours of sleep last night, but now I'm waiting for my boss to have a meeting that was scheduled for two hours ago. And I can't do anything at all until we've met.

The two main signs that I need to just start today all over again? I snapped, verbally, at three of my coworkers. Now, those of you who actually know me personally will probably understand the ramifications of this. I don't snap at people. I certainly don't say to people, "You are being really freaking rude." And why, you ask, did I feel the need to share my bad-humored state with the world? Oh, wait for it. They criticized my lunch. Yup. They told me my lunch was gross. And I got mad.

sigh. I need more important things to worry about!

And then I nearly kicked a child's ass at the restaurant, while picking up said lunch. I walked through the door, and this little girl (perhaps seven years old?) glares at me and says, "There's a line, and you better not cut in front of me!!!"

WHAT. THE. CRAP????????????????????????????

Whose mother allows them to talk that way to strangers? And yes, her mother was standing right next to her. I literally had to close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Intellectually, I know that this is lack of sleep talking. I know that I will wake up in the morning (provided the *%$#ing cats leave me alone) in a different world, a world of unicorns and rainbows and bluebirds. Right now, though, I just feel like whining as I wallow in my self-pity.

Good work, me!

Hell, thy name is cats

2007-04-04T06:33:00.000-07:00

It's 6:30 a.m. and I've been awake for an hour. At 5:20 my cats decided that it was high time I got up, and they began to be complete assholes. Seriously, every single annoying thing they could have done, they did. When I locked them out of my room, Puck ran at the door and threw his body against it, and Pierre sang opera at top volume. When I opened the door, Pierre welcomed himself inside and began to bang on the closet door for admission. When I opened the closet door? He found the one roll of paper inside and began to poke it with his paw, creating an amazing amount of noise. When I kicked Pierre out and tried to go back to sleep with Puck, he began to chase his tail on top of me. Finally, I gave up. So. Here I am. Awake and showered at 6:40 a.m., drinking tea and listening to my second Nick Drake album of the morning. And grumpy as all hell!

Yes, I know. There are worse things. But I'm already exhausted from the past several months of being crazy busy, and... blah. Whining about it will do no good, I realize. I need to figure out how to entertain my cats. Clearly they are bored, but I have very little space and few resources to solve that problem. Any suggestions?

Like a feather pillow

2007-04-03T22:08:00.000-07:00

That's how stuffed I am. Wündergirl and I ate tonight at The Last Supper Club at 23rd and Valencia. And sweet lord, was it delicious! I had a cocktail, an awesome glass of wine, crostini with tomatoes and basil, risotto balls stuffed with mozzerella, pork tenderloin with balsamic vinegar sauce, and tiramisu. I feel like it's Thanksgiving. I feel like I could enter a coma at any moment. I feel like hell. And yet, it was soooooooooo worth it.

Mushroom Man has officially disappeared. The weirdest part about this is that I'm not terribly sad. I'm mad, and my feelings are hurt, but sad? Not exactly. I feel deflated, to a certain extent. I have a hard time with the fact that someone I've considered a friend for so long has managed to discount my feelings so completely. But this is not the end of the world. And I'm not feeling damaged. Realistically, the past four months with him have been mostly fun, mostly a great time. So I'd consider the overall situation to have been successful. This is a first for me: walking away from something that's not "bad" simply because it isn't what I want. It feels good to raise my standards, to feel okay with that decision.

According to my friend, Bittersweet Bob, I'm "soft." I'm "sappy." I'm equal parts wonderful and weak, sweet and saccharine. Now, first of all, I have a really hard time with someone criticizing a fundamental aspect of my personality. I find it infuriating when someone who can't handle criticism tells me what's on their list of "what's wrong with Abbersnail." Secondly, when is it ever acceptable to say that to someone??? There's something about me that seems to scream, "Hey, you can say anything to me! Come on! Hit me with the inappropriate comments! Say the disgusting thing to me! Tell me about your revolting medical condition, the time you cheated on your current girlfriend, or the biggest zit you've ever had. I'd LUH-HOOOVE to hear all about it." Come on, world! Give me a break!!!

Another monumentally bad post, but whatever. Goodnight, all!

Awkward Teens

2007-03-30T20:10:00.000-07:00

You travel in packs, hungry as wolves, starving for identity. You share sticks of gum, ipod earbuds, and tragically romantic secrets. You still look, wide-eyed, at the world around you, yearning to seem wise, anxious about your own vulnerability.

I envy you your sense of immortality. You approach the world relatively undamaged, yet certain of your own dramatic history. You haven't yet learned to question the importance of your wounds. Instead, you declare them proudly to the world, penned in black Sharpie on your jeans, your backpack, your Converse All-Stars. You walk the world with your strange and beautiful fashion disasters, the rebellious nose-piercing paired with the 1940's Maryjanes so akin to your great-grandmother's. You pin political insignias and smart-assed slogans on your hat or your backpack. You sneer in derision at the commonplace world around you, the commonplace people (like me, someone who creates the events that you proudly tout as being "anti-establishment" or "alternative"). You know, without question, that you are destined for extraordinary things. You know, without question, that the it's only a matter of time until the rest of the world realizes how exceptional you are, too.

You struggle for breath, your individuality like oxygen in space: so simultaneously elusive and critical. You are so certain of each love in your life, loving for all you're worth, without hesitation or remorse. And, when it ends, you wallow unabashedly in your exquisite pain.

You are distinct without standing apart. You are alike without pandering to the desires of others. You are waiting for life to strike you as you turn the next bend in the river. And you are ready to strike back.

You are desperation.

And you make me smile, you make me remember, you make me thankful for who and where and what I am.

Moi

2007-03-30T14:36:00.001-07:00

Abbersnail
Originally uploaded by maliavale.

Courtesy of Malia.

Effing $%#&!!!

2007-03-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

My damn cat. I love my cats. And, admittedly, I especially love Pierre. I love that he snuggles up to me for days upon end. I love that he sleeps every night curled up against my stomach. I love that he purrs at the slightest touch, at eye contact. I love that he lets me hold him like a baby, pushing his front paws against my right cheek while I rub his belly.

I do not, however, love that he just butted his head against my hand as I was about to take a sip of wine, spilling the entire glass over my favorite t-shirt (and default bra), as well as my sofa and throw pillow.

Does anyone know if that Oxyclean shit actually works? I have my clothing soaking in the bathroom sink, but it doesn't look like much is happening.

Add to that the fact that I was stood up tonight, and ended up making my beautiful risotto for myself alone, and you have the makings of a great hangover tomorrow.

grrrrrrrrrr

A mixed bag

2007-03-28T23:12:00.000-07:00

Tonight I feel utterly decadent. I skipped a concert that I'd been planning to attend since October, organized a photo album, drank wine, and watched a movie. And today I learned that we get a week of vacation "off the books" at the end of August. So... any suggestions for a great solo vacation? I'm thinking of renting a cabin in Big Sur, or perhaps Yosemite. Any other ideas? I'd prefer that it not involve an airplane, though I'm not absolutely nixing the idea.

Last night, I had one of the strangest conversations with J that I've ever imagined. We talked not only about the new people we're seeing, but also gave one another advice on how to treat our new "people." And, oddly, I didn't end the conversation feeling hurt. I felt a bit sad that I can't ascertain Mushroom Man's intentions. I'm feeling competitive that J's in a more stabile position with his new girlfriend than I am with the quasi-boyfriend. But I'm overwhelmingly okay with the whole thing. Is that odd? I think it probably is. But I think it's a good thing.

Oh God.

Anyhoo...

My downstairs neighbors have been banging on my floor (their ceiling) for the past three weeks. It's beginning to irritate the living shit out of me. I'm annoyed enough that I'm beginning to consider moving. Or shooting them. One of the two.

I refuse to believe how truly abysmal this post is. Eh. Such is life.

Happiness!

2007-03-27T09:54:00.000-07:00

It was a great weekend. Malia arrived on Thursday, and Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were nothing but fun. I finally met the gorgeous and wonderful-in-every-way Stacy, along with Jurgen and Matt! And let's not forget about great times spent with Don Q, camping, eating, and Golden-Gate-Bridge...ing. All three of them took gorgeous pictures, to which I will add links as soon as I figure out how best to do that. Ahem. And, as always, the weekend provided myriad Golden Nuggets Of The Spoken Word. A few highlights, you beg? Why, certainly!

I think a fox died in my mouth.

Would you care for a trypleberry muffin?

My hair looks like the apocalypse.

There are more, but those are the only ones I'm remembering at the moment. Because I rock like that. sigh.

In other news, my office has finally reopened after Fire Break 2007. It ended up being a delightful week off. Interestingly, we have now discovered that the fire was set intentionally by a crazy man who thought there were evil spirits in his bedroom. Awesome! Luckily, no one was hurt, and he's getting professional help now. And hey, I got a week off! So... HA! I was actually pretty anxious to get back to work all week, and now I feel like I've lost some major momentum. Yesterday I stared at my computer screen a bunch, and then read a lot of education materials. I think it'll take me a few days to get back in the groove. Eh. Such is life.

Lastly, have y'all seen this? Because... wow. That's really the only way to put it. Wow.

Happy Tuesday!

Fortune cookie wisdom

2007-03-20T21:37:00.000-07:00

The sock sack: We promote safe socks!

While not necessarily what I'm about to discuss, the above appeared on my gmail screen tonight. I don't know whether to laugh, or poke my eye out with a spoon. Anyhoo...

As most of you know, I am the princess of one-liners. The kind of crap that spews forth from my mouth when drunk is truly and utterly appalling, in the "hysterical and embarrassing" category. I was discussing this today with one of my superhero friends, Wünderfrau (dude, I can't come up with a better name for you at the moment... we'll reconvene and get you something good, I promise), and she suggested that I blog the following list. Because I only remember some of them, I'm inviting you to share. Go ahead, reveal to me what crazy thing I said to you. Or, if you're brave, share some of your own fortune cookie wisdom. (Note: I am not necessarily claiming to have originated all of the following sayings. But they have crossed my lips. Those are the only rules here, folks. Oh, and no. They don't have to make sense.)

Here are the ones I can remember. I'll add to the list as I recall them.

1. "Love" is a verb.
2. Such-and-such-coworker won't give you the keys to the kingdom, but you sure as hell better do your own landscaping.
3. There's a difference between thoughtlessness and carelessness. Thoughtlessness, or the absence of thought, is forgivable. Carelessness means you've chosen not to care. And that's just not okay.
4. I'm making the same mistake over and over! That's the definition of insanity: doing the same exact thing repeatedly, and expecting different results!
5. People don't change. Behaviors change, but people stay the same.
6. I'll get it done tomorrow, good Lord willing and the crick don't rise.
7. It's bridge over the troubled water. I mean, water under the bridge.
8. You can lead a horse to water, but he'll probably want the grass on the other side.

Sound the trumpets

2007-03-19T21:26:00.000-07:00

Here's my official seal!

Very little to say...

2007-03-19T20:53:00.000-07:00

Today my place of work caught on fire. The building next door burned to the ground. We evacuated with no alarm, only because my boss happened to see flames shooting past his window. Ten seconds after we passed the front door, the windows blew out in the building next to ours.

You never think that this happens, not in our era. You don't think that a building will burn to the ground in under an hour, as you watch from across the street. You don't think that the smoke alarm in your building will simply never go off.

I am not a religious person. But whatever or whoever is up there, I'm thankful for my life, and for the lives of my friends.

I don't have anything deep or meaningful to say. I'm shaken to my core at the moment, even after three hours and as many glasses of wine. Okay, that's it.

Happy Blogiversary!!!

2007-03-17T18:38:00.000-07:00

Holy crap! After I just posted, it occurred to me that I started the blog around a year ago. So I checked, and I started the blog

A YEAR AGO

TODAY!!!!

Don't you love moments like that?

Goodbye Houston, Hello San Fran!

2007-03-17T18:15:00.000-07:00

The last piece of my life that remained local to somewhere other than San Francisco is no more.

I have changed my phone number.

I know, I know, seemingly unnecessary. And I might regret it. Particularly since my new number is almost entirely odd numbers. Which kind of bothers me.

I'm weird like that.

Ready for "I'm weirder like that?": the first and last numbers are square numbers, and all the other numbers are prime.

Regardless of this instant analysis of the new number, I have not a clue what it actually is.

Here's to me, Internets. Here's to me.

Descriptions of Point Reyes

2007-03-12T19:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I spent the day in Point Reyes with one of my all-time best friends, Biodude. We drove up to hopefully catch a glimpse of the migrating gray whales, and to enjoy the beautiful weather and the extra hour of daylight. I've spent 24 hours trying to construct a narrative that would accurately depict my impression of Point Reyes as my new Favorite Place On Earth, but to no avail. All I can come up with are these scattered impressions, which will probably make me sound like a pretentious lunatic, but whatever. It's my blog!

There's something about the air in Point Reyes. It's the scent of the Pacific mingling with dust and the indescribable aroma of sunshine. To inhale is like diving into a cool lake, a lake that is so clear that you can see the stones at the bottom. With each breath, I could feel my heartbeat slowing, my muscles loosening.

Sea lions! Nearly a hundred females and babies, their smooth, oblong bodies like so many gray and brown stones spread on the beach. And one gigantic male, like a slab of earth lying, immense, in the middle of his harem. Seen from far away, their movements were barely discernible, the occasional flip of a limb the only sign of life.

We hoped all day to see a whale, scanning the horizon as we hiked the coast trail, searching for a telltale puff of mist to signal a moving pod. On the rare instance that we passed other hikers, they would invariably tell us of the whale they'd just spotted, "closer than you'd think." As we sat on a cliff, silently staring at the endless spot where the ocean and the sky collide, we were both ready to go home. As we leaned down to pack our belongings, something made us both look up at a spot only about 50 feet away. At the burst of mist, we both shouted, standing completely still until the hulking dark shadow in the water was completely out of sight.

I sometimes think that I am the luckiest person in the universe. Not only because of my habit of finding the greatest-ever parking spot, nor because of the odd carnival games that I seem to win despite my lack of games-and-sports prowess, but also because I have some of the most amazing friends in the world. I think the definition of a great friendship is the ability to see one another for the first time in eight months, and then immediately spend a solid two hours staring at waves crashing on cliffs in complete and companionable silence. To trust someone enough that words are rendered unnecessary: that, to me, is love.

Is there anything as divine as the feeling of wet sand and icy ocean water on trail-worn feet? If there is, I dare you to find it.

We were at Point Reyes for six hours, maybe eight. And as we were walking back to the car, after an hour of climbing rocks on the beach, I looked at Biodude and said, "I feel like I've been on vacation for a week." He nodded. Then he said, "Next time, you should probably wear even more sunscreen."

A new truth

2007-03-09T21:58:00.000-08:00

When it comes to emotions, I am not a cautious person. Despite my typical "look before you leap" approach to life, I have never learned how to check my feelings at the door and not take life personally. This is one of the things I like most and least about myself. I like that I am experiencing my own life, that I can look back one day and say that I truly felt the impact of every moment. I hate that I cry at the drop of a hat, that a memory can bring with it a rush of anger that has aged three years, that I cannot wipe the proverbial slate clean when it comes to my feelings towards people.

To tumble into a friendship is one of my favorite feelings in the world. I love the rush of falling into another person, discovering a familiar soul in the crushing race through the universe. And, historically, I have always approached love with the same haphazard recklessness, hurtling myself towards potential disaster.

Something has changed.

I currently find myself in a situation that begs clarifying. It has hit the point where it is, frankly, just absurd. It has hit a point where I should have asked the question two months ago, ripped the bandaid off, and let the chips fall where they may. (I'm apparently the master of mixed metaphors today...) And now I'm not sure I want to know the answer, despite knowing that any answer will at least eliminate the overwhelming uncertainty. The problem is simple: I like this person. I like this person a dangerous amount. And, despite the knowledge that I am utterly fantastic, I don't have faith that this person could ever like me back.

I know, I know, it's a cliché older than any other. It's the sort of thing that makes me feel crazy for having nothing more critical, more meaningful to care about. It also makes me furious with myself for being an ostrich, pushing my head into the sand to avoid getting hurt. This is not who I am. I've always lived by the adage, "Better to have loved and lost than to never love at all." Yet, somehow I cannot bring myself to trust in the general goodness of the universe on this one. And I cannot bring myself to face the possibility that my pessimistic side could be right.

Basically, I need to just suck it up and grow a pair.

sigh

Something old, something new

2007-03-08T19:33:00.000-08:00

Today I started my new job. The oddest part about this "first day" was that it wasn't really a first day. I spent five months working with this same small organization last summer, so it was more like trading desks. I am beyond excited to be starting work. The days ahead are laden with possibility (a word I feel I overuse in the blog, but... eh), and the overwhelming list of tasks to be accomplished is, overall, exciting to me. Hoorah for change!

More on my mind, however, is the absolutely beautiful "farewell party" my wonderful former coworkers threw for me last night. It's odd, realizing that I'm saying goodbye to the Ballet. I think, for me, goodbyes are much more epic. The last few times I've said goodbye to a large group of friends, I've been moving 1,000+ miles away, with the full knowledge that I would be unlikely to see them for a while. This time, the "move" is a mere three blocks, the distance traversable within five minutes. This time, the "goodbye" is more like "see you this weekend."

Bearing that in mind, however, I want to share some of the beautiful (and increasingly out-of-focus as the cocktails went on...) photos from my party. This is the first party that I can think of that anyone has ever thrown for me, and I can't thank my friends enough. So... here you go!