drifting in and out of truths

I don't know how Kim does it. She always manages to find great people to work for her. Okay, some of them have been a bit of the suck, but for the most part, she hires pretty great people. The latest entry into the Siena Hall of Fame is a sweet DePaul student who happens to be from Alaska.

She doesn't know much about coffee, but in our business, that's not what really matters. She's just terribly pleasant and wonderful, and she's already a natural at chatting up the customers. It's very nice to see her being so great with them. It eases my conscience that if I leave again, it will be alright, because she'll be there.

It's also nice because traditionally, I become friends with people through the coffeeshop, and I anticipate her friendship like the opening a bottle of good red wine. She will not be disappointing, her temperament and style matches what's on my plate at the moment.

Today I trained her in the subtleties of the closing shift, and I found myself happily listening to her stories and eager to tell her some of mine. Also, we indulged in hanging out with some customers rather than clean, and she was great about it. Not frantic, not upset, just very easygoing.

I was thinking the other day that my long list of my criteria also rings true for many of my friends. Most of them have traits that I appreciate and admire and yearn for in The Relationship of my life. Of course it makes sense, I want someone who's like minded and we birds of a certain feather tend to recognize the plumage we know best. But also, I can see that what I'm searching for in The Him is what I'm appreciate in everyone. A sense of goodness, kindness and acceptance that is leaps and bounds bigger than the way most people operate in their day-to-day lives. I'm looking to know extraordinary people, and I do have the privledge of knowing more than a few.

In other news: I only have three boxes left to unpack. I got a lot done yesterday in the vacancy left by waylaid plans to go to Great America. My living room/bedroom is finally free of boxes and I have only my writing papers and homework and important things of note to sort through. My bathroom is still a mess, but I got the shower curtain up finally, thanks to Marilyn's savvy purchase of shower rings at a garage sale Saturday. Those nice metal ones with the beads that make it easier as it rolls along the bar. She has a sixth sense when it comes to things I need, I swear. And taking a shower with a shower curtain is so much more pleasant than standing in the tub and rinsing from the tap, because you don't want to spray the entire bathroom with gallons of water. Not easy, let me tell you. I still have to work on cleaning the refrigerator, but otherwise, the kitchen is in the best shape.

Mr. goggles and I are back on speaking terms, leading to seeing each other or what feels like snicker-filled "hanging out." This pleases me to no end. In the three weeks of our breaking apart, I missed him tremendously. I suppose it is just hard to convey, otherwise I might have tried before now, but he is unlike any other man I've ever known. Also, he is of this world, but not of it, elevated to a position in the clouds from where he glides down to spend time among us mortals and then traverses back and forth through the conduit of dreams and wonders why us people are so mundane and solitary and pretending that there is no one in our proximity when we are practically climbing over each other like ants from his vantage point. If only we could dream as vividly as he. Our lives could be as wondrous and intricate. Imagine being aware of both the front and back of un+complicated at the same time.

My sense of glee comes from being someone who this amazing person confers with, in full and ample use of the English language and its vast vocabulary, as if somehow, I am on the same fantastical plane. Hence the rampant sighing.

Midterms start this week. I am already--astonishingly--halfway done with the last semester of my undergraduate career. This both pleases me and terrifies me, of course, because what lies before me is a vast chasm of uncertainty and what is on my back is a pile of bills and debts owed. And, I know it will all work out just fine. But I had this panic settle over me in a pointed question, what am I going to do in January?

Marilyn has plans for me, and not just baby plans, but her business, the image consulting, is really taking off and she wants me to be by her side, her personal assistant, at the ready 24/7. Though it seems like I am the perfect accompaniment to her set of talents, I find myself unsure that is the direction I want to take. I can see that we do have a very keen relationship that is a perfect enmeshment of our various capabilities. But I don't want that much responsibility. It's part of why I passed on the coffeeshop. I need "me" time. I need time to be able to write. I need time for stuff. And I worry that Marilyn will exploit (as innocently as possible, you see) her decree that I be available to her 24/7.

Those of you who have read this journal for some time (well, daddy, I guess that'd be you!) will remember my ponderings about "the quintessential boy next door." So long ago I knew he was just not the guy for me (his output flickers out at a lower decibel, I said), but we find ourselves still bound to each other, recently discovering our likes and dislikes, sharing our tastes, and attending various events together. It was he that I convinced to go with me to Great America and I was disappointed when he decided it was too cold to go. And I keep wondering what it is that ties us together and why I wish it was more than our being neighbors and a loose abstraction of friends. He has invited me on a road trip to see our favorite band play, and though I am eager to go, I can't help but wonder what is going on here. My friend Drew says that if there is a question, that is the answer. There shouldn't even be a question, he muses. And so, I plan to go with the barest sense of clarity, and just enjoy myself.

And, I am such a regular at ennui (the coffeeshop near my new apartment) that the barista I see most often just introduced himself to me. When things like that happens, it makes me glad that I stand out, that I am striking, that I am here to be known in the world.