I don't have NESN

What the hell am I going to do? I just moved into a new place with basic cable (you know, the basic, basic kind) and I don't get NESN.

Okay, I could LISTEN to the games.



And many claim this is better than watching.

But, the seasons I've been in Boston, I've had a Red Sox boyfriend who I just love to watch.

2004, Bronson Arroyo, people made fun of me, but damn, I ended up right. He can pitch, he can sing and he is TALL!






2005, Jason Varitek, what's not to love? Seriously?



2006, I was out of the US for almost all of the season, but I've always had a place in my heart for Big Papi...


Now what? How am I going to know who is my 2007 Red Sox boyfriend without being able to see them? Start monitoring the website? Nah. As shown by Caroline's most recent post, you can't tell anything by someone's card photo.





I might have to call Comcast and upgrade. Because look at how good lookin' some of them are on their card photos. If I had them on my amazing 27" TV in my living room, I might really fall in love. And, I'd continue to be able to impress the real guys with whom I might have a date with my extensive Red Sox knowledge.




Hello, Comcast customer service?

El Cena de Espanol and Book Club

*note: I just (JUST!) figured out how to put links into the text. Enjoy!



Now that I'm back in Jamaica Plain, a neighborhood of Boston overrun with 20 and 30-somethings (38% percent of JP's population was between the ages of 25 and 44 in 2000 according to the Boston Foundation Indicators Project - and a great portal to engage them with each other, Neighbors for Neighbors I jumped in and got involved in the JP Women's Book CLub and revitalized the Spanish Dinner group, which seemed dormant, from what I could tell.

The result? An awesome book club meeting last Tuesday night at Liz's house to discuss March by Geraldine Brooks with about 8 or 10 other women and a fantastic dinner with three other women tonight para hablar espanol. We met at El Oriental, the Cuban restaurant in Jackson Square, an area of Jamaica Plain with lots of Spanish-speakers which re-opened last November after falling victim to the run of arsons in Jamaica Plain in 2005
We met, we ate mofongo , sopa de pollo, yuca relleno, arroz y frijoles, and other yummy treats. We spoke lots of Spanish, told stories of living and visiting Spanish speaking countries, and talked about work in a foreign language. At the book club, I spent 2 hours in a room with women of varied ages and professions who all have a passion for books and the library. Women who put themselves on the hold list for a book and are number 15 in the queue and are willing to wait. Like me!

It felt GOOD. I've been back home for 6 and a half months, which is completely incredible to me. I almost can't believe it some days. I've taken one Spanish class in that time, which was great, but I still find myself losing words every day. So this is great. And I've been looking for a book club my entire life. My mom has been in hers for almost 30 years. Promixo vez, vamos a tomar cafe juntos. (Next time, we're going to have coffee together.) And next month's book is The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides the Pulitizer Prize winner for Middlesex. I read it back in 1993 when it came out, in college, and I've seen the film, but I'm looking forward, after reading half of it so far, to discussing it with adults, 14 years after my first impression of it.

Jamaica Plain is home. (At least for now :))

The Clown Sweater

Bow to the clown sweater. It was $2 (33% off) and was worn to a bar in the height of ski season in Killington, Vermont. Balls, I tell ya, my brother's got 'em.

A cold Boston night with an unexpected experience

Last night on the way home after a 12-hour work day, I got on the orange line at Downtown Crossing as usual, headed for Stony Brook. It was cold. Very cold. When I got on, I partially listened to the announcer voice saying something about shuttling, but mostly ignored it as I read my book.

Two stops later, the announcement was loud and clear "This is the last stop for this train. Shuttles are waiting at street level to take you to Mass Ave where you can board the train again. There is a medical emergency and a police investigation at Back Bay station."

Great, I thought. I'm never getting home. I emerged onto the street at New England Medical Center, and there were well over 100 people on the street waiting for these mysterious shuttle buses that weren't appearing in any hurry on this frigid Boston evening.

After complaining to my mother on my cell, a woman said, I've been waiting 30 minutes. What? Forget it. She quickly said, Where are you going? Want to share a cab? After that, I don't really know where the other two women came from, but soon we were 4 and we were in a very warm cab headed toward Roxbury and JP.



We dropped the first woman off at Roxbury Crossing, and then I got out just on my corner. Each person that got out paid 25% of whatever the meter read at the moment, which worked out just fine. Olivia snd Lynn were in the cab with me and we chatted and laughed about getting home so quickly afterall.

I will most likely never see these women again. Together, we laughed in the face of those who say that Boston is unfriendly, unyeilding, unpersonal. Last night, for me, it was. It was cold, and we were bundled up and soon, because we spoke to strangers and joined together, we were home.

Drifter-with-a-Mission*

*term cited to Nicholas Barry, March 5, 2007


Written sometime in 2003, remembered today:

I was talking in a guesthouse room in Pokhara, Nepal. Arif, a British man I’d met, looked over at me after I had finished and asked, “Have you always had direction?”

I didn’t even pause. I replied, “It never occurred to me not to.” What an easy summation and explanation for the first 27 years of my life. It was a simple statement to describe an achiever’s life. As I said the words, I wondered for the first time what would happen if I didn’t have such clear direction. I reveled in the idea it isn’t decreed, or forced. It’s my choice.

I’d been traveling for almost 5 months when the above happened. I’d quit my excellent job as a program coordinator for student activities at a small liberal arts college in Los Angeles. I’d earned a Master’s degree to qualify me for such a position – worked for two academic years, written a thesis, lived on very little money and waited tables on the weekends to make ends meet. Before that, I’d attended a private 4-year college in Boston, first as a journalism major and then added sociology for a double major once student services lured me. Direction, all of it. Most things I did were out of interest, but also a means to an end. Taking the assistant-to-the-editor position (one nobody wanted) on the paper first year of college to prepare me for the managing editorship later on. Making certain to only study things that were relevant to potential jobs.

Of course, I was encouraged. My parents were always thrilled. Their daughter was goal-orientated. I showed all kinds of promise in lots of areas. My teachers loved it. I was so easy to advise. I already knew the next step, the planned outcome before I came in to discuss it. All they had to do was sign. I encouraged myself. Nothing is scary when you know what comes next. Nothing is risky when you are certain you can succeed. Direction, in my case, was a way to keep me safe.

So what led me to decide to leave? To do what so many young Europeans do but so few Americans choose: travel the world to unknown places, developing countries, and places I knew little about? I’d never left North American soil. Sure, I’d left home and moved first to Maryland and then to California, but this had begun to feel only so adventuresome. One day, I woke up thinking, “Is this it? I just work and work and work?” and that thought led to this one, “I’ve got to go see the world. Two week vacations aren’t going to do it for me.” Way back then, I requested Peace Corps and Semester at Sea Staff applications. I began to fill them out and slowly realized this wasn’t what I was looking for. I wanted to travel independently, without organization or restriction.

I read and read and read. I began to talk about the idea. I looked around for a travel partner. Amazingly easily, I found her in a friend from college who was discontented with her job and ready for something new. We met at Christmastime 1998, committed to the trip and began to save every precious penny.

As the 18 months before our August 2000 departure date disappeared with swiftness, I became more and more excited and anxious. “Yes,” I told people, “I’m really going.” And “No,” I said, “I’m not worried about what happens after the trip or if I’ll have enough money.” And the biggest of all, “No, I’m not scared of China, or Vietnam, or any other country I’m planning on visiting.” Lies. All of it. I’ve always been able to talk a good game. The truth was I had even convinced myself I wasn’t scared. But I was.

And we did it, that friend and I. We traveled for four months together through China, Hong Kong, Macau, Vietnam, Malaysia, and Thailand. We parted ways then, empowered after time together to set out on our own; she to Cambodia and Laos, and I to Nepal and back to Thailand.

I wound up living on Koh Tao, a seven-kilometer-long island with no mainland power, a 3-hour ferry ride from the East coast of Thailand in the Gulf. I taught scuba diving, a passion I’d found along the way. As well as native people from Thailand and Burma, I also lived with Australians, South Africans, Canadians, and Europeans of countless nationalities. I spent 20 months there in all, and finally returned to the States in October of 2002.

And here I am, after having experienced a three-year detour in my life. A lot happened during those 26 months abroad, and I’m still struggling with the story I have to tell and how to tell it. I went back to college administration and began to settle into what those around me call real life and what for so long I believed was the only life. The most significant lesson learned: there are other choices I can make. I see choices now that too much direction caused me to overlook for far too many years.

I’m a different person. I see options where I once didn’t and I see wide open spaces where I once filled in all the details. I know now that in risk there is failure, but there is also amazing discovery.

Added tonight:

The above could have been written today. And my foray into the Peace Corps was another way of me looking at an option and seeing it instead of looking past it. (Yes, I came home and didn't complete that, but I still speak Spanish a lot better than I did and I lived with a wonderful family in Paraguay, a very weird country I otherwise never would have seen, for that choice.)

The moniker in the title of this post was a gift from a new friend. He referenced himself as another when he gave it to me. I love it. It is a title I believe I'll wear proudly. When someone says, "Tell me about yourself" I think I might start with, "Well, I'm a drifter-with-a-mission" and go from there. It sounds like it fits. It feels like I understand it. Thank you, Nick.

The Facts

1. Yesterday I moved.

2. For the first time in my life, I hired movers.

3. It was February 28, 2007.

4. I moved back to Boston after 9 years away on February 28, 2004 (it was Oscar Sunday).

5. Since then, I have moved 6 times. 6 times in 3 years.

6. First to Mission Hill (4 bedroom, nice enough but crowded). Then Jamaica Plain (in a home my roommate owned, nice enough, but expensive). Then Dorchester (in a friend's apartment, nice enough but left for PC). Then everything to my parents' house and to Paraguay. Then back to Dorchester when I got home from Paraguay. Then here, back to Jamaica Plain yesterday.

7. I am on a lease for the first time since 2003 in Gettysburg.

8. This is the first time my boxspring has had to be airlifted up my house to get it in. (Once I had to abandon it and sleep only on a mattress for a while.)

9. I am tired.

10. I am staying here.

Estoy escribiendo de mi nueva computadora

I am writing from my new computer. I bought a laptop. How, you may ask, did I buy a brand new car, move to a new apartment paying first and last, and a new laptop all in the same month? I'm not really sure yet either.

Since I usually don't use credit and pay for everything in the month I buy it, it is even more crazy. Well, okay. I'm not paying for the car this month. Obviously I've re-entered the land of credit this month for that.

Things come in waves, I figure. I still put the max per month into a ROTH IRA so at the end of the year I've filled it. I still save enough each month to be able to afford a trip to Belize and Guatemala in September. I still manage to justify spending $2.30 every damn day for a Dunkin' Donuts coffee.

Perhaps it's time I stop whining and realize that I make enough money to not only take care of myself, but to also have some extra. A LOT extra. It's time to pause for a moment and own that.

I could complain and say I can't buy a house. Or that I can't afford to ski next year if stupid American Ski Company keeps selling off its mountains and there isn't an affordable pass option. I could complain and say that I want a widescreen TV or new clothes, but the facts are I don't really care about any of that.

I only really care that I can travel. I found a great quote a while back and just googled it to find it again (what did we do before the internet? seriously?)

"When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes."
Desiderius Erasmus

That's me. Books and travel. That's all I really care about. A new laptop is a serious luxury. A new car a even more luxurious thing. And you can borrow books. I'm a huge fan of the library. Can't borrow travel, though. That'd be cool, huh?

Books and travel. And a Dunkin' Donuts coffee. And I'm happy. The laptop and the car? Major icing.

Ah, the MBTA...

The Boston subway system, the MBTA, more colloquially known as the T, recently went high tech. Gone are the days of little metal tokens and turnstiles and here are the days of CharlieCards, CharlieTickets and "bleekers" that read your card and open the automated doors to let you through.

It's been a bit of a nightmare transition. We New Englanders hate change. We hate to admit we hate change, and instead just call everyone stupid and claim that the new thing is broken, not good enough, or just stupid. We rarely just say, "Hey, we are afraid of change!" So, even on a good day, people have struggled.

I myself accidently bought my January monthly T-pass in paper CharlieTicket form at the machine because I didn't pay enough attention to the directions to properly use the bleeker and bleek my pass onto my hard plastic CharlieCard.

And the poor old people! My goodness.

Today, I went to the customer service desk at Downtown Crossing (which, is the only place, as far as I can tell, to get T customer service). My goal was to buy 13 individual CharlieCards with $10 each on them for our Teen TeamWorks Program Participants to use next week. (I couldn't just get CharlieTickets, because with those, it is an extra $.30 a ride which over the course of a week and 13 users, would be a waste of money.)

Below are the two letters I wrote and submitted to www.MBTA.com this afternoon. They do a fairly good job of telling you how my purchasing experience went. Enjoy.

FEEDBACK ONE: sent under the heading "Employee Commendation"

"I do not know her name, but her Badge Number is 7044 and she was working at the Downtown Crossing Customer Service Office today at noon, February 16, 2007.

I wanted to buy 13 CharlieCards with $10 each on them and do one credit card charge. This is not possible. So then I said, "Okay then, just do 13 separate charges." This is not possible since there is a 2 per day limit on credit card charges to the T.

So finally, I said, okay, how about I buy one CharlieCard for $130 and then you move $10 increments onto 13 different cards? Couldn't. CharlieCards have a limit of $100.

Finally, she figured out that she could do 2 charges for 13 separate CharlieTICKETS and then switch each ticket over individually to a CharlieCard for me. She had to do each one separately, feeding it into the machine, recording it on a sheet by hand and then putting the CharlieCard on the black card reader and printing out each receipt. It took her 25 minutes and she did it well, quickly, and without complaint.

She made my day. And she restored my faith in customer service completely (a faith that's been tested lately.)

I commend Badge #7704, whose name I wish I knew. Please make sure she knows I wrote you. And hire more like her.

Thank you.

Karen Boss, T-user"

FEEDBACK TWO: sent under the heading "Complaint"
"Why can someone only charge twice a day with the same credit card with the MBTA?

Why can a CharlieCard only hold $100?

Why can I not buy multiple CharlieCards on one credit card transaction?

These all seem like rules that only serve to lose you money and make people like me, who work with groups, have a harder time figuring out how to get them onto the T.

Can you tell me why these are the rules?

Thank you,

Karen Boss, T-rider"

A New Car!

http://www.scion.com/showroom/xa/gallery/

This is my new car. I'm a little bit in love with it. It's a Scion xA and it's wicked cute. Toyota makes it, so it'll go for a long long time. It's got good cargo space when you put the seats down, and I can control the radio from the steering wheel. Did I mention it's cute?

I've never owned a new car before. Ever. I once bought a dealer rental, which they let people use when they needed something, that had 19,800 miles on it when I bought it. This car had 9 miles on it when the sales guy picked me up at the JFK T-stop yesterday in it and let me drive it back to the dealership in order to finalize the purchase. 9 miles! YAY!

It's blue. It's called Indigo Ink. Nice.

It smells like new car inside.

I'm going to obsess over every little mark on the outside of it even though for years I'd've hardly noticed if someone had splashed paint on my car or taken the bumper with them as a momento. :) Now I'll notice every little thing, I'll have to get used to that.

The old car, poor dear, broke and died on the way to Vermont last weekend on the side of Route 89 off the desolate exit 12A where there is nothing, in George's Mills/Sunapee, New Hampshire. This was exactly 107 miles from my mechanic in Boston, so I still owed AAA a bit of money after the first free 100 miles they towed it. I paid only $1600 for that car in September and I got $200 on the trade, so that's $280 a month I paid to drive that little car. Learning to drive a stick with confidence, though? Priceless.

Yay for new cars! Next up? New apartment next month. Lots of changes!

Dear Woman who now has my old cell number,

I am very sorry that you were assigned a recycled phone number by Verizon a mere 30 days after I left Boston. I too have suffered this fate. I occassionally get a call from an 800 number verifying that I am Roxy. I assure the 800 number caller that I am not Roxy and explain that I have her old number. They try to verify my address, which is when I assure them since I am NOT Roxy, I do not live at her house.

This is annoying, without question. I wish the 800 number people would stop calling me. But alas, I cannot make them. I can only choose to answer the phone and tell them I am not Roxy or ignore the number because I do not recognize it and move on.

You, too, Oh Woman who now has my old cell number, have this choice. Apparently this is not enough for you. I am sorry that a few of my family members and perhaps friends have called my old cell number since I unexpectedly returned to the US in September. I think my Aunt did once, and my Dad did, too. (He was upstairs without his own cell phone and pulled my number out of his wallet. It was my old number.) So yes, a few people have mistakenly called you. A "this is not Karen's number anymore" or "this was Karen's old number" would have sufficed. But, no, oh mystery woman. You had to be really mean.

On my birthday, an Aunt called your number (my old number) and said "Karen?". You yelled, without missing a beat, "Karen's dead!" and hung up the phone. On my birthday. Lovely behavior.

And so, after learning that some of my family can't seem to record a new phone number, I called you to apologize. I dialed your number (my old number) and said to you, nicely, "Hi. I'm Karen. You have my old number." You yelled, "Yes, and tell all your family and friends to stop calling me! I'm sick and tired of it!" And you hung up.

I, of course, didn't know you hung up, so I launched into my little speech about how I was sorry some of my family and friends were being dumb and that I had in fact told everyone my new number and then I nicely asked you not to tell anyone else I had died. Only then did I realize you didn't hear any of it.

I called you three times in a row, and you hung up on me three times. The fourth time you yelled, "I don't have the money to talk to you. Stop calling." (On a Verizon plan on a Sunday. Clearly math isn't your forte.)

So I texted you. You can't hang up on a text. I said "Do not tell anyone else I'm dead." You got pissed and texted back something along the lines of you telling anyone you wanted whatever you wanted and that I was dumb for not telling everyone my new number and that not being your problem (but it IS your problem, isn't it?) and then you said I had no right to call you.

I had just gotten off the phone with Verizon, who I had called to register a complaint about their measly 30 day waiting period. It should be longer, don't you agree? I got your text and texted you back to say that you hadn't listened long enough to hear that I was calling to apologize and that I had talked to Verizon. I ended with "Please stop being so rude."

You, of course, didn't reply.

My sister and her husband begged me for the number so they could harrass you. You deserve it, frankly. But now you have my number and my first name and you could probably get me for harrassment if I let them do it, so I won't. But I wish I could.

You are a big huge bee-atch. I hope lots of people keep calling you looking for me. I didn't used to wish that, but now I do.

Sincerely,

Not Roxy, Karen, with a new number, who used to have your number

Dunkin Donuts Customer Service

Good or Bad? You decide.

I got a $25 Dunkin Donuts giftcard for Christmas. I hadn't used it that much, and then I went in and got an extra large half hot chocolate half decaf and it was $2.30. I used my card, got a receipt, and it said I had $13.12 (I don't remember the exact change, but I know it was $13).

The next day, I go back, use the same card at the same Dunkin Donuts and get the same thing. They tell me the card is empty. Huh? After a bit of a back and forth, the manager gives me the coffee/hot chocolate for free and tells me to call the 800 number.

I do. They ask me for the number from the back of the card and then look up the history. They say it was bought in early December for $5 and used once in early January and again on January 11, and again the previous day which tapped it out. Okay, no. I was in Puerto Rico on January 11. They ask if I registered my gift card on line. Um, no. They ask if I have the receipt from yesterday. Um, no.

We finally figure out that they must have given me the wrong card back the day before. But, because I am irresponsible Dunkin Donuts card holder, there's no way to prove it. So she takes all my info (address of the store, date I used the card, exact amount I used it for, and the exact time I used it) and says she'll do some research and get back to me.

I had had a terrible customer service week so far, so I asked her when she'd call me back. By 4, she says. Okay, I tell her, but please call me back. I'm having a terrible customer service week so far.

At 4:30 I hadn't heard. At 5, I called them and they looked up my card number to verify the amount on the card and told me there was $14 on it. I asked her to check when that amount was loaded on the card. That morning, in fact.

So, good customer service, yes. They gave me my $14 when they didn't need to. But bad because they never called to tell me the verdict? Not sure.

The next day, I registered my card online so if I ever actually lose it (or if the Dunkin Donuts barista ever just gives me whatever random card happens to be next to her on the counter again) I can easily get my money back. And for doing so, I got a nice $2 bonus. Not quite enough to buy my extra large half hot chocolate half decaf, but I think I can swing the 30 cents to make up the difference.

Name Tag Revolution

I have this new connection I made through Boston Cares. A man named Joseph Porcelli, who is young and lives and works in JP in Boston and I have been working together to post Boston Cares stuff onto his Neighbors For Neighbors website in an effort to pull in members of that organization in JP to our work.

Now, for his new year's resolution, he's donned a name tag and wears it everywhere he goes in order to introduce himself to others and reconnect with the people, community and world around him. Not a bad idea.

Today, I put on a nametag. I'm going to see how long I last. He says that he feels like a dork, but that's not the point. He's right. We are disconnected as people from each other.

If nothing else, watch the clip from the news on this posting. Really good stuff.

Below is his info that he has sent out via email. Enjoy connecting!

*****************************************************

Friends,

I got more name tag news. CBS 4 Boston did a piece on my wearing a name tag.
Check it out and forward it around. My new thing is to get people to wear a
name tag for a day and then email me stories and pictures of their
experience I will then put on the blog.

http://cbs4boston.com/topstories/local_story_016190333.html


So much has transpired in the last 24 hours. Neasa is participating by wearing a digital name tag on her blog and inviting other bloggers to join her, Charlie will comparing the experience of wearing a name tag in Boston v NYC, and 14 year old teen is going snow boarding with his buddies wearing name tags. Check it out at http://nametag.neighborsforneighbors.org. How will you participate.

I've been interviewed five time already and tonight you can listen in to WBZ Radio 1030 around 9:45 PM ish after the game. For those of you out of range you can tune in online at http://www.wbz.com/pages/37336.php. Please call in and show the love! 617-254-1030.

Tomorrow I will be interviewed by Q 104 in Cleveland and on Sunday a local radio show in Kingston NY.

If you're considering wearing a name tag for a day - stop considering - and choose to do it. You'll have a blast. It not about looking like a dork - which you will - It's about getting over felling silly to make a point that you believe the power of community and are being proactive about creating it. Join me! If you do, be sure to record your experiences, take pictures, and email them back to me so I can post them to the blog at http://nametag.neighborsforneighbors.org.

Mom, dad, Marc, when are you going to try out the name tag for a day? Kate is doing it today. Dad and Marc you should really try it at the airport, the TSA folks get a kick out of this and appreciate it.

All of you who are getting this email are people I consider friends. Some of you who don't know me that well are getting this email cause I think you are cool and I'd would like to get to know you better. If any of you would like to not receive any more name tag email please simply reply with no thanks and you be removed from this list. I will not take any offense.

One last thing please forward this email to as many people as you know and invite them to participate. I want this to spread as quickly and powerfully as possible nationwide!

Your neighbor,

Joseph Porcelli.

Imagine what would be possible if every one in the country would wear a name tag for a day.

2007

It's 2007. How the hell did that happen?

My year of tres inviernos (three winters) has come to an end. Course, I still have most of the third winter to get through, but that's another story.

What a weird year. It was just last January, around my birthday, when I decided to consider applying for the Peace Corps. From the moment I made the decision, I was on my way, much the way I do most things. Figure it out, make it happen, and keep moving forward toward whatever decision you've made. So I did, and scarcely three months later I received my invitation and only 6 weeks after that, I left. Some might say the whole thing was too quick, but I know different. It wasn't "too" quick. It was just quick, which, when you've made a decision and feel good about it, is a good thing.

Three months deciding to apply and doing so, two months getting there. Three months living in Paraguay. Two months of complete uncertainty of what was next and worrying like I haven't in years. And the final two months, settling into a new job and being home. What a compartmentalized year.

I'm not sure what this year will hold, but it might not be just hunkering down and staying put. My roommate decided over Christmas that she should think about buying a house and she will begin that process this month. I'm really excited for her. What I'll do is still up in the air. I could move with her and help her with the mortgage by paying her rent. Or, I could stay here, in this place I've come to really love (even with the horrible landlord) and find myself a new roommate. And, I could move (again). That idea doesn't sound so horrible (it is amazing how quickly you forget how awful moving is). So do I stay here in the city or is it maybe time to move up to Lowell and be closer to family and friends and take advantage of the cheaper rent and extra 50 minutes times 2 trips a day on the commuter rail to read? Perhaps I might actually get to be a daily Globe reader again if I do that.

I'm not making resolutions this year. I haven't for a while now. I'm just going to keep trying to be a better person and keep trying to make new friends. I'm going to keep dating and keep telling everyone I know to tell all their single guy friends that they know this great single woman. I'm going to keep doing good work and helping others do good work. I'm going to keep in touch with my friends in Paraguay and keep spending time with my family. I'm going to keep defending those who need it and keep learning as much as I can. I'm going to keep listening incessantly to NPR and keep making dinner dates with friends I don't see that often. I'm going to keep going to the gym and keep eating well and sleeping well. I'm going to keep loving my siblings and keep getting to know my new brother-in-law better. I'm going to keep arguing and keep watching Grey's Anatomy. I'm going to keep loving the Amazing Race and keep using the library. So there's nothing to resolve, only things to keep. Let's do that from now on, make New Year's Keeps.

Welcome 2007. I'm amazed you are here already, but I still welcome you. Let's make it a good one!

My Mayor Lost

I just did a crazy-ass search and managed to find all the election results for every town in all of Paraguay. The date on the posts was November 28, 2006, so I know they must be official documents for all the elections. The mayor of Santa Maria de Fe, my town, was defeated. He did not win.

Just more information from the universe telling me I made the right choice.

Skiing, pilates, the gym, oh my!

It's that time of year. Everyone is hyper aware of how much they are eating and that it's holiday time and there's sweets everywhere. People are busy and don't have time to cook and there's a party every three days. People get all unhealthy and make excuses. And then the new year hits and gym memberships jump a million percent.

I have always gained a little weight in the winter. Some years more than others. I justify myself by saying, "Oh, I ski every weekend! I walk across the parking lot in ski boots carrying skis and then I ski for 2 or 3 hours and I can feel it in my thighs, so I must be fine." And then I go to happy hour, drink 3 or 4 beers and eat some nachos before heading back to the ski house to eat more bad food and drink a glass of wine while showering and then head out for a couple more beers at the club. All this drinking happens over the course of about 10 hours, so usually I'm never drunk from it all, and between that and the nachos, burger, fries or whatever other crap I eat, the root of those extra pounds aren't really a secret.

This year, for the first time since 2000, I've decided to make a committment to exercise. I first set out to find a regular yoga or pilates class, but they are EXPENSIVE. $15-20 a class no matter where you look, which is $80 a month for only one class a week and that still does nothing for my cardiovascular health or my strength training, which I need now that I'm entering my mid-30s. I shopped around even more. I visited Boston Sports Clubs, with convenient locations at South Station and Downtown Crossing, both very close to work. $129 to join and $69 a month if I sign a year contract! What? Jeez. I shopped around some more. Nothing.

Finally, my roommate, who belongs to the Y here in Dorchester for $40 a month said, how about that little gym down in Lower Mills? I looked them up and they are great. (She is sticking at the Y because they open at 4:30 a.m. or some such craziness and she loves her personal trainer.) The gym is in an old mill, and it's 4 stories, with exposed brick and exposed beams and big, huge windows. There is no sign-up fee and with membership, you get 3 1-hour personal trainer sessions to teach you what you need to know on the machines and help you set goals. All the classes are included in the monthly fee, including pilates, and the whole shebang is $29 a month with a 1-year commitment. Yay.

I have begun a new plan. I do cardio two times a week for 45 minutes on the treadmill. At least one class a week, either pilates or body blast, which is a crazy class with weights and calesthenics and a lazy instructor who only does about 4 and then stops and yells at us to do about 35 more reps. 30 minutes each for upper body strength training, lower body, and abs sometime during the week. Since I am in Vermont every weekend, all this has to be smooshed into 5 days, so I've been there at least 2 mornings before work and 2 nights the last two weeks. And then I still ski on the weekends.

Whenever, in my past, I've linked money to something, I tend to follow through with it. So even though it's only $29, it would kill me to know I was paying that and not using it. Between that and really wanting to be in better shape, I'm pretty sure I'll keep the commitment. I plan on also eating well and laying off the bad stuff, which in the past has always worked, too.

Now let's see if I can lay off the beers. Grin.

Alone again at the holidays

I love my life. I've made lots of choices, lots of decisions and I've crafted a life I really like. I've been on adventures, made worldwide friends, lived on an island, gone barefoot for months, learned Spanish (some, anyway) in a foriegn country, worked some really great jobs and some really challenging ones, lived in the mountains for a ski season, done 800 scuba dives, held newborn babies, been in an Hindu/Catholic wedding, gotten counseling, counseled others, earned a Master's degree, and been loved and have loved.

I don't plan on ending the adventure until I'm dead or until I can't get up because my knees are gone, whatever comes first. I am happy every day. I am a lifelong learner and a lifelong discoverer, and this can keep anyone happy for a long long time.

But there's an underlying unhappiness that stays with me. It's under the surface, but sometimes it stands up and demands to be noticed. Holiday time is usually one of those times. These last few weeks have been hard and the next few will be too and I finally figured that out last night, in a discussion with my mom. I am alone. And every year that passes, I am more and more alone. I will be 34 in 6 weeks and I'm still alone.

I have a personality built for dating and I love to date. I go on them regularly. I use the internet and I'm not ashamed to talk about it. I have no idea how else anyone meets anyone when they are in their late 20s and early 30s. Anyone claiming to just meet people is either a.lying or b.incredibly good looking. Most people are either set up by a friend or marry their friend's brother's roommate or they use the internet. Anyone who says that the internet is a bad way to meet people is either married or stupid.

I like dating. I don't mind coffee or a beer with a stranger. Small talk is not difficult for me (I secretly enjoy it) and why not see what happens? I had some great luck for a while, and met three people in relative succession who I dated. One was not right, one just wasn't that into me and one I left behind because he was all wrong for me. And another, a while after that, ended up returning to a previous relationship even though he professed (and acted as though) he liked me a lot. What to do about any of that? It's all normal.

But, I AM tired of those men who send you a crazy photo they took of themselves that makes their head look triagular and their nose the size of a submarine and then when I send a photo, they suddenly disappear. All of the readers of this know me (more or less). I'm not a beauty queen, but I'm certainly fine-looking, even cute or pretty on a good day and normal on a bad one. What are these men expecting? And why are THEY 34 or 38 and not willing to meet someone and take a chance for an hour on a cup of coffee? Why am I willing to do that with submarine-triangle head, but he isn't?

I want to be in a relationship. But not with the wrong person. So those people who say that I am too picky because I eventually broke up with one guy because he thought homeless people should just get a family member to bail them out and EVERYONE that is homeless has a family member who can do that - you are wrong. I am not too picky. And those who have said I should be more flexible than 10 years in either direction in regards to age - I'm sorry, but am I supposed to be 60 with a husband who is 75? I'm supposed to CHOOSE that? There are some things that are deal-breakers and I just refuse, at this point, to drop all of them because I'm desperate to be with SOMEONE.

That's how I figure I'll end up divorced in 4 years like the other Gen-Xers out there. And, because I don't want kids, I need to be more careful. I can't craft a marriage that relies on kids to keep us from having to deal with each other and/or our marriage. A lot of people do that. They don't know how to fill a rainy afternoon if they didn't have to take a kid somewhere. I won't have that. I need a real partnership and relationship.

And so, if I'm alone forever, I guess that's how it will be. But what will be worse than that is pity. I don't want any. I feel sometimes as I get older that those around me have changed over from "oh, you'll find someone" to "it'll be okay." Or when I used to say I didn't want kids, people would (albeit rudely) say "You'll change your mind" whereas now they say "Oh, really?" I think they think that's a good thing, since I'm so utterly alone and getting older. I project upon others my own fears of what they are thinking, but these ideas are not coming from thin air, they are coming fast and furious from the media, and books, and films. It's REAL.

My dad so wishes I would find someone. He wants me to be okay and happy and he is so aware of his own mortality, that I know he wants this for me sooner than later so that if anything happens to him, he can go knowing I'm okay. I sometimes think about how I want to find my partner and settle down with him even more so that my dad can stop worrying. I've taken on his worry on top of my own. And he will be upset when he reads this and finds out I'm doing that, because he doesn't want to create more pain for me. But he already knows I know and I worry about him. He won't find out here. He'll just read it here, but deep down, he already knows.

My mom: she lets me off the hook. She is my biggest champion and the one who understands me. She was 25 and utterly single in 1970. We are equals in that. I'm 33 and single in 2006. It's the same. I may not even be in as bad shape as she was. So her I don't worry about. She'll just keep by my side as I keep looking and she'll keep answering the phone and listening to whatever helacious date I'm coming home from.

My jury is out on my siblings. I don't know if they know how hard this time is for me. They each have someone this year, for the first time. One got married and the other is with someone he really likes. It's the first year I'm really really alone, without another single sibling. I think that's making it harder.

I have no catchy ending. I have no resolution. I have no plans for New Year's (although that's not new and even married people complain about that). I only have what I know. That's it.

10 weeks in

I've been home 10 weeks! 10! And I was only in Paraguay for 13. Only a few more weeks and I'll have been back home for as long as I was gone.

This morning on the T, with my iPod shuffle playing in my ears and with my free copy of the Metro in my hands (which is apparently my source for news these days), I had a moment of strong regret. I thought about how little I've spoken Spanish since I arrived home and how bad I sounded trying to speak to my mom's friend Ornella at my parents' anniversary party on Saturday night. I thought about how I can't remember what denominations Paraguayan money comes in (seriously - I tried for 5 minutes to remember and I am still struggling). I thought about how I haven't emailed my host family in Ita except once and I'm not even sure that got through.

It was a powerful wave of regret.

But then I thought about how when everyone at the party asked me about my new job and how I'm doing, I said "Great. I'm glad to be home." And every time I said it, it was true. Funny, regret. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, even when you KNOW you've done the right thing. Is it regret, then? Or is it something else less malignant? Wonder, perhaps?

When I unpacked my box o' work stuff and put some of it up in my new office space, I found this quote that I had hanging in my office at Wentworth. I can't remember where I originally found it, but it's just typed on white paper and cut out.

"Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurditites no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. This day is all that is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on yesterdays." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

So I'm taking this morning's little bout of thoughtfulness and I'm going to think about it a bit, but then I'm going to keep moving into today, because it is "all that is good and fair." Interesting that someone as philosophical and questioning as RWE has challenged us to move the hell on from stuff.

New blog feature alert!

I'm going to start to highlight one of Boston Cares's partner agencies in the Boston area in each blog post. Perhaps one of my readers will find something that resonates with them and will volunteer, or donate some end-of-the-year money to an organization.

Generations, Inc. http://www.generationsinc.org
Boston is undergoing a demographic revolution, and that is great news. There are now over 100,000 Boston residents who are age 55 or older. In the next 20 years that number could grow by almost 50%. What does that mean for Boston? We believe it means better opportunities for local children. It’s a simple case of supply and demand. Local children need all the guidance they can get. Retirees have free time, experience, and a desire to help. For 15 years, Generations Incorporated has worked to connect older adults with the children who need them the most.

One especially interesting project they have at the moment is this one:
The arrival of Siamese Sam and the Things He Will Eat!
A new, fully-illustrated children's book about a very hungry cat who embarks on an exciting adventure. The book was written by board member Rich Trombetta, and loosely based upon the adventures of his real-life Siamese cat, Sam. Siamese Sam is vibrantly illustrated by 3rd and 5th grade students from the Orchard Gardens Pilot School in Roxbury. All proceeds from the book will benefit intergenerational literacy programming at Generations Incorporated. We are currently campaigning to bring a Siamese Sam book to each child in every one of the 19 schools and after-school sites we serve.
Help us support this effort by getting your own copy of Siamese Sam now, or by purchasing the book for one of our students! Books are $10 each. http://www.generationsinc.org/siamesesam_main.htm

Tres dias en mi nuevo trabajo

Three days in my new job.

As I left today, my new boss, PK, said to me, "Does it feel like longer than three days?" "No," I answered. She looked surprised. "It feels like a perfect three days," I said. And it has.

This job is a great fit for me. I'm not completely sure what I do yet, and I've spent hours this week reading documentation, program plans, starategic plans, grant proposals, Americorps requirements, and folders of documents. And I haven't even gotten to reading the documents on the computer yet.

My new supervisor set aside loads of time this week to sit with me and talk about everything I need to know about everything. We've had three 2 hour sessions, and will have more next week. It's been amazing to have someone take that time to help me orientate.

I've begun meeting with the four Americorps women I will be supervising. One is a Americorps Massachusetts Promise Fellow, one is a Americorps Citizen Fellow and two are Americorps VISTAs. They are all different programs all funded through the US government, a domestic Peace Corps, if you will. (Irony not lost here.) They are all talented, interesting and will be wonderful to work with. I've started to promise them that within the month, I'll have a clue what I'm doing, what Boston Cares is all about and be in a position to really begin to help them figure out next steps for their positions for this year.

I've been very calm starting this job. Even though I've made a total career move and am now in a field I've not been in before, I'm calm. I'm pleased. I'm energized. I'm looking forward to having a great run at Boston Cares.

I've really been enjoying being in downtown Boston, too. I've never worked somewhere (in the US) where there wasn't a campus. A coffee source, cafeteria, bookstore, library, mail room or post office, etc. all right there just a short walk away. How nice that even though i've given that up, there's still all those things near by because I'm downtown. Just across from my building is a open space with a fountain, loads of tables, and a Finagle a Bagel and Au Bon Pain. We've been meeting there a lot instead of in the office. If I need money, the ATM is a block down. I pass THREE Dunkin' Donuts on the way to work. THREE. And one is two feet from the office. There's a Subway, a Brighams, and a Rebecca's very close by. There's every type of international food just around the corner. And my office is at the end of High Street, which is literally across the street from the Archway that goes out to the waterfront where the water taxis come in, and since the upper deck of 93 is gone due to the Big Dig, you can not only see right through to the ocean, but you can walk over there on nice days and hang out on a bench. Amazing.

I figured out today that I've only commuted to work in a car for 1 year since 2000. I'm glad to be back on the T after this past year of car commuting. Time to ride and read and think or whatever that doesn't require honking, yelling, or being annoyed with idiots on the road. A half-mile walk on the front end, a 20 minute ride and a half-mile walk on the other end makes for a 40-45 minute commute. It's great.

I'm pretty blessed. I'm reveling in it at the moment.

Q: Where's the best place to eat a pizza at Uno's on break?

A: In the way-back of your station wagon in the parking lot behind the restaurant. (These kids only need pizza to complete their fun!)

I was on a double today, god willing, my last day at Uno's. I technically have one more shift next Saturday-day, but I'm trying desperately to get someone to pick it up for me. I worked from 11 a.m. to 8:30 p.m. with about a 45 minute break and I walked out with $156, so it's not all bad.

Around 4, I had a break to eat. I couldn't stand staying inside anymore, since it was such a gorgeous day - blue sky, puffy white clouds and wind. So I went out back with my individual sized Chicago Classic pizza on a plate and a cup of water splashed with lemonade and opened the back of my oh-so-cool station wagon and sat in the back. It was chilly, though, so I closed the hatch - slowly, as to not completely shut it. But it clicked shut anyway, and there I was, happily eating my pizza and drinking my soda, both sat on the floor in front of me. I was trapped in the back, though, and had to crawl over the seat to let myself out when I was done. :)

I have had the following in my head for the past week, and I've got to put them somewhere. So, read along. If you agree, cool. If you don't, that's cool too. Not meaning ot sound preachy, but these are some things I desperately have wanted to say to my tables this past week and of course, couldn't.

1. Servers are paid roughly $2.43 per hour. The tips are the salary.

2. You tip 20% if the person was good, friendly, brought you stuff you asked for and didn't forget anything. 15% if the person was just okay, forgot something and didn't mention it. You only tip less than 15% if the person was horrible, and in that case, you should ask to talk to a manager instead of just tipping badly. The person needs help. If you are inclined to tip more than 20%, fantastic. The person will love you and talk about you for days.

3. You don't tip less at lunch. Lunch is still the same service as dinner. The person still does as much work. And, the amount spent is consistently lower at lunch, making for lower tips as it is. So when someone doesn't tip 20% or even 15% just because it's lunch, it makes for a very low money-making day and leaves the server thinking they did something wrong.

4. Every time you ask a server to get you something, it's the same amount of effort for them. For example, when you place your food order, the server is only putting it into the computer and then getting it when it's cooked and bringing to to you. But when you order a salad, dessert or drinks, you can bet that she/he has to make at least one of those things by his/herself. And, every beer or coffee or coffee drink you order is another trip for the server. So, just becuase you only ate sandwiches and then sat for 2 hours having beers or coffee or whatever, that doesn't mean you don't have to tip as much. You do. She/he put in as much time and running around to get you the next round as if you had ordered a five course meal and only one drink.

5. If you don't like your drink, food, soup, whatever...tell the server. They should fix it for you. They should offer you something else. They should offer to send a manager over. If they don't offer you something, don't go to that place again.

6. If your food takes longer than you think it should be taking, and your server has not even mentioned this to you, definitely hold them accountable. But, if you see that virtually every table is full and your server has come by at least once or twice to check your sodas and to tell you that your food is coming or that she/he just checked on it, please don't punish her/him for the lateness of your food. They didn't cook it. Chances are, they stood back in the kitchen and tried to find out where it was while dodging the kitchen staff trying to kill them. Or, they just stood by and waited, because they had no choice because there were 4 or 5 tables in front of yours back there. Hold the whole restuarant accountable. Ask to talk to a manager, or don't go back there. But don't take it out on the server in the tip just because you can.

7. If your server greets you and says anything honest, such as, "I'll be right back. I'm so sorry, but this table behind you was sat just before you got here, and I have to just get their drinks" it's probably true. Watch her/him for a few minutes. Is she/he running around all the time or is she/he missing or do you see them standing around? If they are near you and running around, chances are they will get to you as soon as humanly possible. Try to understand. Of course, some servers are just shitty servers and don't organize their time well, but you'll figure that out as your meal progresses. Just don't get too mad in the beginning as long as they have given you some explanation.

8. I serve tables on the "iced tea theory." I've had this theory for about 12 years now, and I've taken it into all other work I've done. The theory is this: When you ask me for another iced tea (or whatever you've asked for), I promise I will get it to you as soon as I can, but I can't get it to you any sooner than I can. Apply that to everything. Now of course, sometimes people can't tell if you are putting in the "as soon as I humanly can" effort, but if you are, there's nothing more you can do.

I have another whole list of rants for the staff of restuarants, which includes: cleaning up after yourself, putting things back where they belong so the next person can find it, filling up whatever you just took the last of, not being bitchy, helping people who ask for help, not hiding when the kitchen needs help running food to tables, doing sidework correctly, cleaning up after other people when they don't have time so the place doesn't look like a bomb hit it - among others. But that's another essay.

I start work on Wednesday at Boston Cares. Thank the goddess.

Yo tengo mucho respeto por camareras

I have a lot of respect for waitresses...And I'm incredibly glad that I don't have to do this much longer.

The Top 5 Most Amazing Things About Waiting Tables Full-Time

5. How much my body hurts. I am not 23 anymore, and let me tell you, my body knows it.

4. How anyone does it. The next time that young woman waits on you, think that it's possible that she does this full-time, 40 hours a week, on her feet. Tip well.

3. That I already feel at home in a restaurant that I've only worked in for 2 weeks.

2. Working a double. This means I got there at 10:30, had a 15 minute break at 2 and was cut and went home at 11:30. That's 13 hours, on my feet, never stopping, moving, getting people what they need. It was one of the most physically hard things I've ever done.

1. That even though it feels good to work only 5 hours and walk away with $50 or 6 hours and walk with $85, when you do the math, you still can't earn much more than $25,000. a year. Hard work for not quite enough to live independently in Boston. Amazing.

Puedo planchar

I can iron.

After years of saying that I don't know how to iron (or don't want to) and spending loads of money on the dry cleaners, I have finally had to just admit that I do, indeed, know how to iron.

I have always said that it's worth the money to pay someone else to not only wash, but press, my clothes. You drop them off, and pick them up only 2 days later all ready to be worn. And you get free hangers out of the deal!

But, as you all know, I've had NO money come in for the last 6 weeks and have had to cut corners. Not only that, but when you work at a place that requires a blue shirt and black pants every day and you only own two of each, the dry cleaners is out of the question.

And so, for the first time since I've lived with my roommate, who is an ironing fiend, I have actually used her board and iron regularly. Come to find out, I DID pay attention all those years ago when Mom taught me to iron a shirt. I can actually do it, and it looks good.

I guess I can't claim I don't know how anymore. If I choose to take clothes to the dry cleaner when I start my new job and have a proper salary again, it'll have to be because I'm lazy and self-indulgent. I'll have to decide whether I can live with that or whether I'll have to just keep using the iron and board in the way I was taught, the way I apparently know how, and stop pretending I can't. I hate having to admit I'm full of it!

Karen Cares About Boston

I got it! I'm the Director of Programs for Boston Cares! It's only been 6 weeks (to the day, I think) that I've been home and I've just landed my dream job. I'm so psyched. Check out what they are all about at www.bostoncares.org.

I will join the non-profit world and begin a new career on November 1. I an sure I will bridge back to higher education through non-profit and the world of volunteering in Boston and the connections that can be made on campuses.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE and their words of support over these past weeks. I love you all and I am so blessed to have such friends and family in my life.

Keep checking back here. I'll chronicle my adventures as I begin a new one, doing good in the world, here in the U.S., here in Boston.

Hi, I'm Karen and I'll be taking care of you tonight...

My first shift back at waiting tables after almost a 10 year break. It went well. It was a Monday, so of course, it was quiet. I got there at 4:30 and we didn't have any tables until 5:45, and I left at 10. Between 6 and 10, I made $53. Not bad, especially for a Monday night. I was also able to pick up another shift for tomorrow day, so that'll be some more money I wasn't originally planning on.

Weirdest table tonight? An Asian couple who came in at around 9ish, speaking an Asian language I couldn't identify on a cell phone and to each other, but who finally ordered a rack of ribs, an individual size pizza and an order of sliders (which are three little cheeseburgers) and two sides of fries. They ate almost all of it and she was tiny. I was amazed.

Nicest table? The two women who I think were on a date who nicely asked, after they'd eaten almost everything, what was blue in the kitchen, considering there was a blue spot in their mashed potatoes. After I told them maybe blueberry flavoring and the manager then told them the prep stickers that are edible (not toxic) they ended up tipping me very well on the original total, not the new total after the manager took the offending burger and mashed off their check.

Thing I forgot about? Doing your sidework (such as filling ketchups, getting clean silverware, clean bowls, stocking supplies, etc.) and cleaning all the tables in your section and then having it checked by the closers and having to stand there while another staff person tells you to clean a lamp or fill a pepper shaker. I forgot how easy it is to get annoyed and how important it is not to because A. it'll be me sometime when I close and B. it's best for the restaurant to look clean and be clean.

Anyone notice how gorgeous the weather's been here in Boston (if you are in Boston) these past weeks? I have really been wanting to see The Departed, but haven't, because I haven't been able to bring myself to sit in a theatre in the middle of a day that is so beautiful. So I've been sitting outside reading my book and walking around JP pond to appreciate the sun and the trees and the colors of fall in New England.

I had my second interview for Boston Cares today. I really want that job. A lot. If I don't get it, it will be the first time I've not gotten a job I've really wanted. I'm trying not to worry about it and just roll with the fact that I did the best I could in the interviews and now I just have to hope they pick me. (Pick me! Pick me! Remember wanting that SO much in elementary school? I sort of feel like that right now. I actually said, out loud, when the elevator doors closed today as I was leaving, "Hire me!")

In the meantime, I'll wipe down tables, sell people giant chocolate chip cookies to go with their deep dish, and explain 400 times a shift that we have only Pepsi products, sorry. It's good for the soul to serve others. It reminds you how to be a good customer.

I got in trouble at Pizza School

I am spending 5 hours each night this week, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday in Uno Chicago Bar and Grill training classes. To work at Uno's you have to do 5 training shifts in the restuarant and 15 hours of class that includes a BarCode Alcohol Server Certification. Although I am ready to kill myself after 5 hours of menu item descriptions, I have respect for this program as it is the most thorough I've seen and is FANTASTIC that they train servers to actually serve alcohol.

Tonight:

So the trainer gave us these sheets on the first night...one for each section of the menu. And she said we'd fill them out as we went along, as a group, not a test, for us to keep for info. I'm a huge geek, of course, and had an extra five minutes today when I arrived early at class, so I filled in some of the sheets ahead of where we'd discussed because I was familiar with some stuff, having already done my in-restuarant training shifts.

I went to the bathroom. When I got back, she held them up and asked "Are these yours?" (How did she get them? I thought to myself. I thought they were under my other book.) "Yes," I answered. "You can't work ahead," said she. "Why not? They are my sheets," I replied. "You are supposed to do them with the group." I said, quietly, but in all seriousness, "Whatever."

What is worse? That I got in trouble in Pizza School for working ahead or that the only answer I could come up with in response was: "Whatever"? You decide.

Porque pienso que Ellen DeGeneres es fantastico...y otros ideas

Why I think Ellen DeGeneres is fantastic....and other ideas.

I have never watched the Ellen show with any regularity, of course. But now, I've spent many a morning from 9 until 10 a.m. in my living room with the Queen of Pop Dancing and oxfords and tailored pants. It's really a pleasure. She is not only funny, but she is caring, compassionate, quirky and self-aware. The show is a serious breath of fresh air amongst all the crap that we find on television in general, let alone during the day.

This week, she spent one day with breast cancer survivors and their families working towards further awareness during this, Breast Cancer Awareness, month. She wore a pink sweater (unusal for her) and had four people who volunteered to cut their hair to donate to Locks for Love. The way she plays with guests is pleasing as well. She and Matthew Perry played tennis after his new show "Studio 60" promo interview.

The fact that I even have an opinion on daytime television scares me a little. I've been doing some other things that don't involve the couch or the tv, which is good. I went to see the first in a series in Boston this year called "Social Cinema" co-sponsored by Boston Cares, Hostelling International and WGBH. The documentary was called "The World According to Sesame Street" and it profiled how The Children's Television Workshop works with producers in other countries to produce international versions of Sesame Street. After the film, a children's programming professor from BU and a producer from the Children's Television Workshop in NYC both spoke and answered questions. Here's the link to info about the program and the films, which will also show on WGBH in New England, mostly on Tuesday nights at 10. http://www.bostoncares.org/AboutUs/index.php/citizen_academy/social_cinema/democracy_on_deadline.htm

I went to see Eve Ensler, creator of the Vagina Monologues, read from her new book, "Insecure at Last." She spoke in the Coolidge Corner Theatre, (http://www.coolidge.org/) of which I am a member, and was sponsored by the Brookline Booksmith, (http://www.brooklinebooksmith.com/) the best independent bookstore in Boston, in my opinion. Her book is about how we are totally obsessed with being secure and safe and that in fact, we are missing out on life and other gifts because of it. I left early, actually, because she was reading about Katrina and it was going on forever and ever. The first parts she read were good, though.

I volunteered at Jamaica Plain Open Studios last weekend. JP artists open their studio doors and congregate to sell their art all over the neighborhood on Saturday and Sunday. I sat on the rainy Sunday afternoon and greeted guests as they entered the Footlight Club, a local theatre in JP and sold raffle tickets to help support the Arts Council. I didn't end up buying anything, not even a pair of earrings, because I am trying so hard to keep spending under control. (http://www.jpopenstudios.com/) As a side note, Dorchester's Open Studios is the weekend of Oct. 21 and 22. This is my neighborhood. (http://www.thedac.org/dos2006).

I am waiting to get my work schedule at Uno at the middle to the end of next week, because I would really like to volunteer at a few other events that are highlighted on the Boston Cares website. I am attending a volunteer orientation there next Wednesday so I can begin to sign up for volunteer programs. Boston Cares is one of the organizations with whom I am interviewing for a position. I had my first interview Thursday and was told that I'd made it to the second round. The position is perfect for me and I'd really like to work with an organization such as this one. Take a look and sign up to volunteer while you are at it if you are here in Boston and have been putting off getting involved like many of us do. (www.bostoncares.org)
As another side note, the Life is Good Pumpkin Festival is on Boston Common on Saturday, October 21 and all the proceeds go to Camp Sunshine, a retreat for kids with life-threatening illnesses and their families. (http://www.campsunshine.org/) It's a great event. For more info, visit http://www.lifeisgood.com/festivals_pumpkin/ContentPlus.asp?cmd=CONTENT&articleID=195.

Speaking of Uno's, I'm almost done training. Just three days of what I'm cheekily calling "Pizza School" - 5 hour sessions three days this week about the menu, food, and other stuff - and I'll be on the floor alone, actually making some money. I had a great couple of training shifts this week and I'm reminded why I always loved to waitress. I haven't done it for almost 10 years now, but man, do I like it. I'm good at it and I enjoy it. I may be singing an entirely different tune relatively soon, considering I'm 10 years older, have never served full-time before, and it's HARD on the body and the mind. We'll see how I do. So far so good, though. It's like riding a bike. :)

I've been thinking about what I'm writing on this site. About how when I was away, the most mundane details of life were interesting to other people and how now, being in a US city, living in largely the same way as my audience, if that makes a difference, (or should) in how or what I write. I haven't decided yet. For now, I'm just plugging away, writing my musings and my thoughts down and figuring that in any case, I'll be glad I did if later I decide I'm actually going to make an attempt to write some sort of book or essay or something about this year.

It's definitely autumn. The leaves are turning and it's crisp out, especially at night. It's getting darker sooner and stupid, antiquated daylight-savings is coming soon. (Why the hell do we KEEP doing that? Why not just leave the sun ALONE?) School is in full swing and the colleges are just finishing up fall break. Family weekends have happened or are about to, and people have begun to talk about plans for Thanksgiving. We rented the house in Vermont and are already talking about when we'll go up for the first opening weekend of the season. I have started to be able to see the beginnings of my third winter of 2006. The winter of reflection. It follows the winter of applying and the winter of learning and leaving. So far, my time has been so full of logistics and worrying and figuring out what's next that I haven't had time for the reflection part. But I'm going to be mindful of it. I refuse to miss the reflection because I was too busy attacking the next step.

Let me know what you think. I'm interested. It's lonely sometimes here on the couch with only Ellen DeGeneres for company while everyone else is at work. Thanks for coming. Come again.

Yo hago las cosas mas complicadas

I make things more complicated.

I know I do. It's a curse, really. These last few days have been difficult, confusing, busy, boring, scary and full of freedom. This is an exercise in patience and self-confidence as well as how I see and understand myself, the people around me and my world.

I have not had one dime come in since I arrived back in the U.S. I have only had money go out in bills, buying a car, buying groceries and gas. I have been home almost 4 weeks. This is scary for just about anyone, let alone someone like me, who always saves more than she spends and who worries about money on a good day. I have spent time looking at job listings and applying for positions that really interest me. I have had three interviews, been offered a full-time professional position which I turned down, have two more interviews next week, have begun one restaurant job, quit that one, and begin another on Sunday. I have reviewed my resume with a friend of a friend and I have tried to set up informational interviews. I have been exercising some and sleeping plenty and have started playing around with writing about my experience in the Peace Corps.

I had dinner with my parents the other night (mom brought home lobsters!) and we talked about why I shouldn't been freaking out yet. They are being really supportive and have even offered for me to live there again for free if I need to. I don't want to do that. There's this triangle theory of happiness. It says that there are three parts of anyone's life that need to be sorted out in order for true happiness to be achieved. One is your home, one is your relationship and one is your work. If you have at least one of these at any given time, you'll be okay. If you have two, even better, and three, you are truly happy. Right now I have one. Home. I like it here in my house in Boston. I have no relationship at the moment and I obviously don't have meaningful work. So if I give up the Home part and move back in with my parents, I think I'd be in bad shape very quickly. So I'm not going to do that. Yet. Ever. Hopefully.

I have been projecting onto others that they are disapproving of what I am doing and what I've done and then I'm internalizing it. I've created a vicious cycle all my own without anyone else's involvement and I'm suffering because of it. I am obviously worried that people think I should be working by now or that I should be doing something different than I am doing. I feel a little out of control, and I'm a control freak. But there's nothing else I could be controlling. :) What a predicament. It's funny. I have to laugh at myself. My mother said "If you want to freak out, go ahead..." What is that going to help? Nothing.

So, I am making things more complicated than they have to be. I think I need to take a deep deep breath, and then breathe it out. And then, remember that I have enough money to get through another couple of months without any money coming in, and I will be earning money waiting tables after training in another two weeks. I need to remember that I have already, in only three weeks, had positive response from three different non-profit job opportunities, which can't possibly be a fluke. I need to remember that it's never easy. Life is a challenge. I have my health. I have family. I have enough money. I have the ability to borrow if need be. It's hard to remember to breathe sometimes.

Estoy tratando estar mas tranquilo. I am trying to be calmer. We'll see how it goes.

Estoy pensando sobre muchas cosas...

I am thinking about lots of things...

Two weeks now. That's how long I've been back in the U.S. I've driven a car, seen a movie, eaten lobster, thrown toilet paper in the toilet again, shopped in a huge grocery store, walked in high heels all day, moved all my belongings (again!), gotten a little drunk with my friends and family, told my Peace Corps story more times than I can count, hidden from my Peace Corps recruiter who I saw on the subway because I couldn't deal with having to tell her the story that day, looked for jobs, and written a long email in what I'm sure is rapidly failing Spanish to my host family in Ita. I think the most difficult of that list has been the high heels. En serio.

Life feels really normal. Too normal? I'm not sure. I'm a little worried that if I don't pay attention, I won't have learned anything from this experience, and instead, I'll just have "spent 3 months in Paraguay one time." I am honing how I answer the question about why I'm home. It's coming a little bit easier on the tongue each time I say it. I still struggle with the quitting. I know, I know, everyone keeps telling me that I tried, I didn't quit. And that's true. But it's also true that I quit. I guess I can live with it at the moment because I didn't know. I didn't know that the timing would be so off and I didn't know that I would hate being an island. That's informing me as I do this job search. I know I need colleagues and comrades, especially if I'm going to do a job that's challenging or difficult, like the ones I've interviewed for so far.

Today, I drove for the first time past the Jamaica Plain pond in Boston. I love that place. It gives me peace and solace. I can walk the path around the pond and think. And I also walked through JP today, down Centre Street. There were people pushing baby carriages, and a whole line of people sitting on the bright red bench outside of Emack & Bolios eating ice cream. It was about 82 degrees out today and the sun was shining. I went into Boomerang's, the awesome thrift store (all the money goes to AIDS Action), and they had added an extra room in the time I'd been gone. I walked down to the Centre Street Cafe and got an application to work there. I think I may be waitressing for a while until I find a job. I've always loved waitressing. I love the people, and serving them and giving them a good meal and a good experience. I think going out to eat is one of the great pleasures in life and I love to enable other people to have that, too.

After that, I walked back to the car, and a woman outside the real estate office asked if I wanted a Deval Patrick lawn sign (he's running for Governor of Massachusetts and the primary elections are Tuesday). I told her no, thanks, but that I was voting for Patrick...she smiled and waved and said "Thanks!" It felt good, the simplicity and the basic-ness of the interaction.

I miss speaking Spanish. I'm acutely aware of it every day and even more aware that I'm losing more and more each day that passes and that I'm not doing anything about it. My schedule has been so up in the air that I haven't bothered to connect with my mother's three Spanish-speaking friends. I've unpacked, so I know where my Spanish books are and I could be using them right now instead of writing this with "Cliffhanger" with Sylvester Stallone On-Demand in the background. But I'm not. What's that about? Is it hopelessness? That I won't be able to learn as much as I did there? That I will never be totally fluent? Or am I avoiding it for another reason? I have no idea yet. One of the jobs I'm currently intervieiwing for would allow me to use Spanish, which would give me a kick in the ass...

I sat in the backyard today, of my home. The one I lived in for a year before I left for Paraguay and the one in which I live now, again. I swung on the swing and read an Entertainment Weekly. I listened to the squirrels eating and throwing the acorns down with a rapidness that surprised me. I talked with my roommate and together we tried to get a splinter out of her finger. Then I cooked shrimp with zuchini and onions over penne pasta and sat at the table in the backyard and ate it slowly. And now, I write this from the livingroom couch, on my roommate's laptopthat she bought while I was gone on the wireless internet that she finally cracked and had installed in the apartment. I'm incredibly priveleged. I have everything I need and if I didn't, I know someone from whom I could borrow it. I need to spend more time reflecting on that.

This fall has a lot to offer, if I open my eyes, listen to the messages and let the universe interfere. I hope I have enough courage to do that. People think I'm brave. First for going and then for coming home. I'm not. I'm practical. And self-serving. And family-oriented. Sure, I travel alone, and I take risks like other people change their clothes, but I don't think that makes me brave. A little crazy, maybe...but brave I'd argue with.

It's 11 p.m., Cliffhanger is almost over and I'm tired. I'll be back, though.

Seis dias en mi pais ahora...

Six days in my country now...

I've just returned home from the grocery store, where I bought eggs and bacon and milk and english muffins and orange juice because my sister and her husband are coming for the weekend and we have nothing in the house to feed them. (Oh my god, my sister and her HUSBAND. I haven't seen them since the wedding weekend... how weird!) On the way to the grocery store, I was thinking about how strange it is, and how normal it is to be here, at home, in the United States.

Leaving Asuncion wasn't easy. Some friends from G21 had come to the city from their sites to say goodbye. We had a fun last night, drinking beers and eating fries covered in cheese and onions and garlic at the Brit Pub. Poor Kimberly had had a medical appointment that day to help stop her bloody noses, so she was tired and went home early. Jim and Orlando, Brad and Maggie and I stayed out for a while longer and then headed back to the hotel to get some sleep.

I hadn't thought a lot about how our departure would affect the other people in our Muni group. It had crossed my mind, but only for a moment in the flurry of ETing. There were only 7 of us, and now there would be only 5. We were meant to be each others' support, each others' family for 2 whole years. Kimberly, Jim and Orlando shared that they were sad and upset about it. Kimberly bravely shared that she was angry. She had invested time and energy into a relationship with me (I was closest to her during training) and now I was leaving her. I appreciated her ability to share that feeling that night. Jim and Orlando felt differently. Sad, homesick, and the difficulty of settling into site was compounded by our decisions. The next morning, saying goodbye, there were tears. Orlando had sent me a text earlier in the week saying "You'll always be part of G21, Boss." I hadn't really thought about that, about losing the group, until then.

Taking off from Asuncion, almost seven days ago now, looking down at the city from the air for the first time (we had arrived at night), I was listening to my iPod and Mary Chapin Carpenter came on, singing "Almost Home." The beginning, and the refrain goes like this:

...holding on for such dear life,
Here's where I let go.
I'm not running,
I'm not hiding,
I'm not reaching,
I'm just resting in the arms of the great wide open,
Gonna pull my soul in,
And I'm almost home.

I cried a couple of tears in the moment, thinking a bit of what could have been. What would have been? I didn't know then, and I don't know now. But I know I'm here, and I'm fine, and I still feel good about my decision, almost two weeks after I made it.

I would never have survived in Paraguay. Soy el opuesto de tranquilo (I am the opposite of tranquilo). It's frightening how much. I arrived home on a flight on Sunday, September 3 at 10:30 a.m. By Monday at 11, I was already looking at cars for sale on Craigslist. Not just reading the ads, but actually driving to the next towns over to test drive two. My mom, thank god, understands me enough to know that I needed to do this to feel in control of my life, and came with me. By Tuesday night, I owned a new car and by Wednesday afternoon, it was registered. My biggest accomplishment since leaving Paraguay? Driving a stick shift for the first time in my life. With confidence. Through downtown Boston!

Now that I own a car again, I've chilled out a little. I'm spending time online, looking at job ads and trying to figure out what I'm going to do next. I applied to three restaurants for full-time server work while I do a job search. I was offered one job today and am going to follow up on the one I want tomorrow and then make a decision. Both would be okay money to tide me over. Yesterday, I hung out for a while on the ABC website doing electronic Lost puzzles, had dinner with my roommate and today I went to a farm with my best friend and her two kids. This Sunday, I'm going back to NYC with my sister and her husband for three days. I've definitely chilled a little.

My roommate and very good friend, god-love-her-and-fate, was not able to rent my room during the three months I was gone. She had 4 people make appointments and never show up and two more weirdos look at it. This month was the month she was going to freak out if she didn't find someone. Well, she did. I move back in on September 16. Today, I was thinking about that for the first time, really, and all of a sudden realized how estatically happy I am that I don't have look for a place to live or live with strangers or live with my parents. I can move right back into my room and my friendship and my wonderful home with her. What a gift.

I've received dozens of emails from people since I decided to come home. All, en serio, ALL, have been supportive and wonderful, and some even made me cry a little more. (I am seriously sick of crying.) Friends who I love dearly, but never expected poetry from, created messages worthy of publishing. Friends I hadn't heard from in a long time took a moment to write me a note. People I wasn't even sure were friends wrote messages that touched my heart, at its core.

And even more people are helping me with requests during this work transition. People I haven't talked to in years are emailing and asking if I need help connecting with jobs or help with my resume. This experience really has reminded me that I am surrounded by people who care. People are willing to take a moment from the busy-ness of their lives to help me. And I'm finding myself willing to ask for help, which is unusual for me. In this instance though, in this moment in my life, it is necessary. So I have given myself over to the universe a little and am hoping for the best. I think it will come. If it doesn't, at least I know I have the guts to make a decision, push through, and take charge of it myself. People who know me best would probably say I didn't need any reminding about this, but I doubt myself more than people know, and often need reminding...

My mom, standing in the kitchen at 6 a.m. one morning this week, said, "I seriously need to go on a diet. I've been eating like crazy because I was so worried about you coming home." I asked why, saying I thought she was happy about it. She said she was, but thought I'd have a hard tranisition and would be all upset and would need lots of support. I said, "Huh. But I'm fine." She said, "Yeah, you are. It's weird." It is weird. She's right. I've been thinking about that ever since we had that conversation. I'm wondering actually, if I'll have a delayed reaction. Will I be "fine" for 5 weeks, like I was in the beginning in Paraguay and then it will hit me? That I've given up being a PCV, given up fluency in Spanish, given up what I'll never know I've given up? Don't know, but that moment with Mom in the kitchen was funny.

2006 will be a year of winters for me. This calendar year, I will have 3. Tres inviernos. The first winter was spent applying to the Peace Corps. It was spent explaning to family and friends why I wanted to leave the U.S. again. Why I thought the Peace Corps was perfect for me. The second winter, my South American winter, was spent learning to be a Peace Corps trainee. It was spent speaking Spanish, riding in buses with holes in the floor, eating sugar and fried foods, and learning a new culture and then deciding to leave all that. And now, the third winter. I don't know yet what it will bring, but if you stay with me, we'll find out together. Three Winters. Tres Inviernos. What's next? Vamos a ver. We'll see.

Nos vemos. See you later.