I can't possibly be expected to give my presentation tomorrow without the required colored copies!!!My current theory is that the reprographics staff were trampled in the 1.25 million person crowd watching the Super Bowl parade in downtown Boston today. Thus, they can not make my copies.And while I am ranting, why is my gym bag so heavy?? It doesn't have THAT much in it! (yes, I am well aware of the many levels of irony involved in complaining about the weight of one's gym bag). And when did it get to be winter?? 20 degree weather seems to have snuck up on us and a 20 degree steering wheel was an unpleasant shock to my ungloved hands this morning. Brrrr!Where was I? Other than all that, the day is going well. I am rushing around to prepare a presentation for a meeting tomorrow morning (on two extremely fun topics: reporting and Outlook functionality). The power point is done, the script is being spell checked and the color copies... oh yes, that's where I was: Where are my color copies!!!???

For those of you who read this as a way of keeping up with new developments in my life, here is the current status (nothing phenomenally interesting):Good weekend, if somewhat busy. Went to bed early Friday night intending to get up early and go up to an SCA event. Woke up Saturday morning in a panic about a project unfinished at work and random disorganization. Decided to change plans... went shopping and knocked off quite a few things on the 'to buy' list that I've been procrastinating on (such as a new walkman). also went food shopping. Two chores out of the way.Spent the day mentally organizing the work project (which I am again procrastinating on in order to write this journal entry). Treated myself to a nap as reward for finishing around 5 PM. Watched the behind-the-scenes disc of Moulin Rouge while waiting for H to arrive. Sunday: leisurely, snuggly morning followed by an afternoon of moving boxes out of the new studio. Up and down stairs... I ache today. Good progress was made. I think we may be able to finish the rest next weekend.Treated H and myself to a dinner at the always-crowded Olive Garden (we knew that SuperBowl Sunday would be our only chance to actually get in the place without a 1.5 hour wait!). Mmmm... delicious dinner followed by equally delicious tiramisu (my favorite dessert).Wonderful talk on the way home (seemed to be a theme of the weekend). Arrived home to upset, sick-again roommie, suffering additionally from stupid medical practitioner diagnosis. Quiet evening outside of that. Kitten has a newly shorn chinny-chin-chin to remedy the wax-dipping incident (don't ask).Today: back at work. Everyone is in a good mood because of our winning superbowl status. Dealing with general populace shock that I didn't watch a minute of it, but that is ok. Perhaps I will have something more interesting to write later, but for now, it is time to tackle this project.

This is definitely worthy of a livejournal post because of its sheer madness. I think I will try NOT to eat Chinese food right before bed...The dreamworld consisted of a palace of mermaids who were playing host to the regiment of an army. The mermaids were decadent, pleasure-seeking creatures with a vestal virgin creed... they had to remain untouched by any mortal man. Each mermaid had a bed with an elaborate canopy of gossamer silks with (gag) hearts on them.During this regiment's visit, one of the soldiers was none other than Herman Melville, the writer of Moby Dick. One particular mermaid had always loved this story and spent the evening trying to get close to him. He told her he would only discuss the book with her if she would come to his bedroom that evening, which she agreed to do.In bed that evening, he tried desperately to seduce her while she insisted on hearing about his process for writing the story. He revealed to her that he actually wrote very little of the narrative... the most of the events were based on his friend's capture of a baby whale earlier that day, which she had actually seen (yes I know it makes no sense... it was a dream!). She is incredibly bothered, but decides that she really must go see the other man (who caught the baby whale) right away. She goes to his room and poof! they are in love. Caught up in the passion of the moment, she suddenly realizes that she has NO idea how mermaids have sex. He tenderly explains that although he is sort of at a loss himself on that particular topic, he knows all about mermaids because his mother was one. He explains to her how mermaids will never understand a human's pain or suffering, and how his father's love for his mother ended up driving him mad. The mermaid cries, but he tells her that he is still willing to try if she will marry him. She agrees to do this, but they must make plans for her to sneak away in secret.She realizes, with horror, that although they have not consummated the relationship, she has been out of her bedroom all night, and the queen of the mermaids will surely force her to leave the colony if she is discovered! So she hurries back to her room, just steps before the queen. She opens the door, smiling (because she made it) only to discover that her canopy bed has been torn down! A jealous mermaid sabotaged her bed so that the Queen would know she had been gone all night.The Queen walks in just as she starts to put it together again, and haughtily tells her to leave right away.However, at that moment there is a rumbling... the mother of the baby whale is attacking the palace trying to find the man who captured her baby...This is where I woke up to the alarm.

I've come to the realization (it is so important to appreciate these) that my life over the past week or so has been wonderful. I spent the weekend with a friend I adore and had too many good conversations to count. I had some great food (we went out for Indian on Saturday and Italian at my favorite place on Sunday). Work is going smoothly... the new organizational announcement is out and I can begin planning my next career move soon. We have a clean house at the moment and it seems to be staying fairly uncluttered... I've even been motivated to make my bed every morning, which is unusual for me. There are chocolate chip cookies in the house, courtesy of my roommate... yum! I had a long chat with a friend I haven't spoken to in quite some time last night... always good to catch up. I have fun weekend plans. My relationship with H was deepened by one of those wonderful talks on Tuesday night. I'm seeing him tonight, and that is always one of the highlights of my week. My friend R is about to embark on an entirely new journey in his life and I am so excited to be in the viewing stands and in the cheering section. Ra ra ra! I've been challenged by the idea of race and culture and have had many excellent conversations on the subject (including one bright and early this morning... who said two people can't be articulate at 6:45 AM!). B, another friend, has been in 'philosophical mode' of late, so I have yet another person to enjoy good conversation with. And quite a few people have been inspired to start or restart their livejournals, which is allowing me to feel closer to those I love, even at a distance!Basically I am in talk-heaven. We all know how much I love to run my mouth ;) I am a woman, after all.All this just makes me feel completely refreshed and ready to take on the world!!!-J

A hispanic friend commented to me recently that he constantly felt as if he walked the line between cultures (his ethnic background and his "white" schooling, work environment, etc)... never belonging to one or the other. It has reminded me of the importance of everyone examining his/her own diversity and that of others.Diversity is a buzz word that is bantered about in corporations more than I care to think about. As an HR professional, I hear this word 50+ times a day. We need to hire a more diverse candidate, what are the problems that our diverse employees are experiencing, how can we accommodate those with diverse needs. I've always known that diversity meant a difference in skin color, sexual orientation, religious belief, bodily capability, etc. But is this really all diversity is?My coworker is a black female. We have lunch and conversation quite regularly. She's probably one of the funniest people I know. Although we don't necessarily get together outside of work, she was at my birthday party and I do consider her a good friend. At a lunch date recently, we discussed a mutual friend and, at one point, coworker; a black male who has since left the company. While he was here, he was fairly active in "dating" some of the white women on the floor. This point was bantered about, and it was obvious she was frustrated with him. When questioned she said the following: "It is just that there is such a "thing" about black men and white women, and I would hate to see it come back around to bite him in the ass."I nodded at the time but started to think. This "thing"... who thinks this? Does she think it? Was she, in essence, saying (not in so many words) "I am your friend... but don't even think about marrying my brother/friend/cousin." Is this some sort of reverse racism? I have to say that I've never even really thought about the differences. I knew that the person I had dated was black, another Hispanic. I have many friends who are gay. But I don't think about it any more than I think about whether they are wearing a white shirt or a blue shirt. Should I be thinking about it? Not from the 'this person is not equal to me' sense, but should I be noticing the differences and talking about them? At one point in my life, not long ago, I had hopes of starting a relationship with someone who was Hispanic. I thought about the fact that I would want to learn Spanish so that I could communicate with his family, as this would be very important to me. But through conversations with him and with others, I am wondering if the cultural differences between us would have been too much. Perhaps the failing of 'white culture' is that we don't realize that we HAVE a culture. We feel cultureless... similar to not being able to hear your own accent. As a result, we are unable to see other cultures. We can see differences in skin tone, etc, but do we really appreciate that someone's upbringing was different than ours? That it goes deeper than food choices and fashion preferences, but has really helped to define what and how we think?I just pondered this question with another coworker of mine who is a Hispanic female. An albino Hispanic female, actually. I just adore her. Anyway, I asked her if she ever felt the disjointedness that my friend is feeling. Her answer was an overwhelming yes, that she did not quite fit into either culture. She further broke things down in explaining that while we say 'Hispanic,' there are many differences in the Mexican and Puerto Rican cultures. Something I never knew or even thought about. There are so many levels I have missed.But she said things that deepened and perhaps clarified the concept of culture for me... and quelled my rising bafflement. One never fits into anything perfectly, she remarked. The more 'cultures' we share in common with a person, the more we may be able to understand their thoughts and actions, but we will never be exactly like anyone, regardless of how much we have in common. Further, culture isn't just about the big diversity quotients. Cultures are like communities, and there are many more divisions in each one. My friend whose remarks started this thinking... I may never be able to appreciate the difference in our racial cultures. But his mother, who is shy of technology, might never be able to understand his brilliance in that field. Who understands his love of music, literature, thinking? Aren't these cultures as well?The feeling of fragmentation... both my Hispanic friends feel it. Is this possibly a norm for this generation of the community who has sort of made it 'out'? And, in which case, doesn't the fact that the norm is feeling disjointed make the norm a community/culture of its own? A hybrid? As I am not part of this, I do not know the answer. All I can learn from these discussions is how much I don't know, even about those closest to me.

What is my obsession with noses, lately?I was struck today by the things I ignore in the familiar. My morning commute has been the same for just over 2 years. My nose experiences the following:Driving to the T: the slight smell of car fumes from the road and traffic.Arriving at the T: the wonderful smell of donuts and coffee at the little shop where I usually buy my morning bottle of water or the occasional coffee. The clean castor-soap smell of one of the Greek ladies there who often brings me my medium hazelnut, light and sweet. The T station: a good dose of fresh air running through the station with the undercurrent of oil, grease, and... urine? I can never tell. Could be the cleaning solution that they use for the floors.The T itself: a variety of perfumes, aftershaves, deodorants, and powders as unique as the T riders themselves.South Station: ugh. urine, grease, oil- that very peculiar perfume of underground public transit. seems to stay the same from city to city.Out on the street into the air: the big dig. sea water and construction equipment. occasionally, a good whiff of a particularly dirty construction man pretending to work. less than pleasant.Across the first intersection, passing the dunkin donuts: mmmm. coffee and breakfast sandwiches and donuts. The open door at the Copley Flair gift shop: an interesting potpourri that I can never place, but it is quite nice. Sweet, not overwhelming.The next block: always the smell of breakfast. eggs and bacon. I have a theory that this comes from a local cafeteria, but the distance seems too much...Passing the garage: car exhaust, oil, grease.The juice place: fresh squeezed oranges and the slight hint of banana and strawberries. The entrance of my building: starbucks coffee. Thick, heavy, serious coffee.The lobby: currently, the smell of lilies (as they just replaced the old floral arrangements with new spring-inspired ones).The elevator: cherry wood and carpet cleaner. That 'office smell' of suits, brass and wood.My floor: typical office smell of copy machines, printer toner, the occasional whiff of oatmeal or toast as people stumble around in their morning haze.My cube: my morning green tea.

Shiitake rice soup. I just love saying the word 'shiitake'. Shiitake, Shiitake, Shiitake.ok, now it sounds weird. good soup, though.-Jane

'The power I wield in my self-comfort'? Am I just in a sick mood, or does anyone else think that sounds... umm... well, think about it. or wait, don't.

A good friend was up from NY for the weekend. As usual, with this particular friend, the visit left me with much to think about.First on my mind, however, is the apparent gap between how I feel/felt about him and his knowledge of my feelings. It amazes me that someone so important to me would not know it. My assumptions were hard at work on this one... I always just assumed he knew. What a shock to see just how little of my emotions I actually revealed. Everyone else knew I was madly in love with this person! They were probably sick of hearing about it.Now, time has passed. It took me a long time to learn to accept the lack of possibility for a relationship, but knowing this person has still raised the bar for everyone else I meet in my life. He remains the most intelligent, most interesting and definitely the most charming person I have had the pleasure of knowing. I consider myself lucky that we were able to weather everything and settle down into the wonderful friendship that we have now. I'm re-realizing just how important it is to tell the people we love how much we love them, and to tell them often. It is so easy to forget this, and I am going to try harder to remember from now on. On a different note, I had a rare weekday morning in that I drove to the T in moonlight. I actually dragged myself in early today, and at 6:30 AM the moon was perfectly in front of me on the road. How beautiful! Morning moonlight has a much more surreal quality than night moonlight. It was magical. Of course, my drowsiness could have helped the situation quite a bit...-Jane

Go Faeries!!Take the What Faery Are You? Quiz!This quiz was made by lia

Everyone knows I do some medieval re-creation events. Watching people attempt to conjecture what life was like pre-1600 has made me look at modern times with a more critical eye. If a historian wanted to know about us, there are many references... movies, magazines, books. But what about the unspoken things?Bathroom etiquette. No one writes about this sort of thing, but it's very important, when you think about it. So, for the future historians of the world, here is my version of life in the female public bathroom of the current age:Stall choice: If you are using a stall in a 10 stall bathroom with no one else there... and someone new comes in and enters the stall next to you to pee... when there were 8 other toilets, all further away from you... tell me you don't feel weird. I don't want to listen to you pee at all, but if I have to, at least give me the benefit of some distance, man!!!Handwashing: you would think this is a given. But there are plenty of times that I am washing my hands when someone comes out of a stall and just leaves the bathroom. HELLO!!! even if you had the holy immaculate waste movement, i assume you at least flushed... thereby touching a dirty toilet handle. and what about the handle on the stall door? did you levitate out of there??? Dude, wash up. for all of us. If not, I need to use a paper towel to open the door just to get out. Mirror use: now, this one is pretty specific to our bathroom, but we do have a full length mirror at one end, right in front of a stall. If someone is in the stall, don't stand in front of the mirror. As a matter of fact, let's revise this to:Stall comfort zone: do not enter the in-use stall comfort zone of 2 feet in front of the door. any closer than that, and I think you are about to try the door at any moment because you can't see it is in use. or I get paranoid that you are pervert catching glimpses through the cracks.Conversation: do not attempt to converse with me through the stall doors. It is important that once I close the door, I become anonymous again. Talk to me when I come back out to wash my hands (see previous note about hand washing).Uncomfortable bathroom moments: If someone is obviously having some issues with what they ate for lunch, do not stand there and put your makeup on. Leave as soon as you can. No standing around. Leave the poor person in peace. Perfume: please don't douse yourself in perfume in common space. Blech.'I'm here' noises: If someone seems to indicate by her obviously confidential conversation with a fellow bathroom mate that she has forgotten that your stall is in use, shuffle your feet, cough once or twice or otherwise make your presence known. Do not eavesdrop. The obligatory flush: it isn't dainty, but we should all be concerned about the mutual atmosphere. A nicely timed flush helps quite a bit.Tampon/Napkin disposal: take the time to really make sure that it is fully in the metal box... no little stringies or other gross things hanging out for me to look at when I use that stall. eww.I think that is about as comprehensive as I care to make it on a Friday afternoon. Feel free to add some of your own!

I'm reading through some friends of a friend's journals, and I think I need to rant again.What IS it with women and weight loss??? Ok ok, I know we all know the answer to that one. But, speaking as a woman who has weight to lose (and my reasons for stating that are HEALTH REASONS)... why is that the ONLY thing we talk about? Wait... there is always talk of getting/keeping a boyfriend too. I forgot about that other noble topic.I can't stand that. Why can't we talk about literature? volunteering? community involvement? our goals, dreams, aspirations? Why do so many of us define our happiness as 'thin and married'. I'll tell you something... I know a lot of thin, married women. And they aren't happy either. Now, since they can not see the error of the 'thin, married' theory, they believe that they are not thin enough or that they married the wrong person. ARGH.Why am I (and those I really like) the only ones that see this faulty logic?My mother (a goddess of information and healer of my soul) listens to me in my times of whining. These usually include a search for meaning in my life... would I like to be prettier in general? Sure. I'd also love to be wealthier, living closer to the mountains, and a virtuoso pianist. Some things I can influence, some I can't. But I don't base my entire worldview and self esteem on the number on the scale. People who do need to reevaluate their own search for meaning. My theory is this: We all have a hole inside us. It is too easy to think that possessions, appearance or accomplishments will fill this hole. But they won't. What fills this hole is to find the things we really want... the things that give us meaning and a sense of purpose... and do them. Which would bring me to another point. Losing weight is not hard. Anyone who thinks it is hard doesn't really want to lose weight. I've been guilty of this. I know women who keep it because it is easier to believe that they don't have love in their lives because they are carrying around 20 extra lbs rather than face the horrible prospect of being thin and lonely, which might happen. Then, there are those who use it as an excuse not to take risks... easier to stay in and have a piece of cake or chocolate rather than go out and meet new people and risk being rejected. And if one does go out and get rejected... weight is an easy excuse. "Did they hate me because I am a total bitch?? no no, it is just because I need to lose some weight. Then everyone I know will like me."argh. Can you tell I am REALLY passionate about this topic??And all this is why I like my roommate. She's one of the coolest people I know. She talks about literature, experiences, writing, goals. She describes herself as curvy and she embraces it (although I have to say that she isn't at all overweight). I've never heard her lament the fact that she's not a size six, though. She takes pride in making homemade M&M cookies and sharing them with everyone. She'll eat every fatty thing I cook with relish and never count calories. She'll wrap herself in a corset and thigh high boots and go break hearts on a weekday night just for the hell of it. She'll walk home from the T because it feels GOOD not because she feels fat and wants to exercise. and she's going to read this and think that I want a favor from her, but I really just think she's cool.May there be more people like her in my life from this day forward.Now, this is not a big plug for being heavy and staying that way. It's usually pretty damned unhealthy and everyone who loves herself should make an effort to eat right and exercise because it feels good (myself included). I suppose all I am saying is BALANCE it with other things in your life, because if you are just trying to meet mr. right, you should try to have something to offer him outside of a thin body... make sure your mind doesn't lose weight as well. end of rant.-Jane

A coworker just gave me a $154 ticket to tonight's sold-out Boston Symphony Orchestra performance! I am thrilled. The program is Faure's op. 80, Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto #4 (my favorite composer, if not my favorite piece) and Mendelssohn's Symphony #3 in A minor. I do not know the first piece, but the last two are wonderful. I must have done something really good!-Jane

A note on the picture: A detail from my second favorite painting of all time, Titian's Venus at her mirror (1555).http://www.johnmitchell.org/mirrorvenus.htm-Jane

I've have seen Gogol's story of 'The Nose' come to life. After an invidious public transit ride, my mood was improved to walk past a large nose-mascot bouncing around in downtown Boston (a promotion for a cold medication). I can't help but wonder how one applies for the position of a dancing nose. With the current economic climate and unemployment rate, I would bet that nose had a MBA.But I digress.As for the aforementioned commute... we were treated to a group of 5 morons (who must have been drinking) expounding (at length) on their own philosophy of life. Loudly. Ignoring the evil eye being given from every direction, they entertained us with such delights as 'Patriots RULE!!!' and 'Blues, awww yeah, blues are cool' and various horribly inappropriate humor exchanges followed by drunken laughter. My words do not do it justice.

While many people journal as a way to work through addictions, I think I may quickly become addicted to journaling...Still at work, but waiting for H (boyfriend) to meet me at the office. Had a very adult moment on the phone with him...apologizing for my tone in a rather heated discussion last night involving military uniform and social encounters (how do I get into these things?)... Apology was most likely unnecessary given H's very laid back nature, but it was the right thing to do. We'll see how long this maturity holds out.In the meantime, I am planning layouts for the new studio (for sewing) which I will hopefully take over by the end of the month. My roommate joins my ecstacy at the possibility of getting all the fabric, trim and baubles out of the house and into another space. I am, of course, overjoyed at the prospect of a place to be completely creative. Once upon a time, I would spend evenings surrounded by fabric and costumes in a dear friend's sewing and design studio. Some of my best memories come from that time...a note: Work phone conversations become much looser post 6 PM. Remind me to tease my coworker about his less-than-mature tone later.waiting, waiting, waiting...still in workout clothing. I should probably change, and yet I am rather comfy. Has my tolerance of frumpy-fashion-presentation increased with assurance of love from H? Am I lowering my standards because I no longer feel the need to impress a boyfriend?Since I am on a soapbox as is, allow me to pontificate on the term 'boyfriend'. I loathe it. Terms should mature or change from high school. Just as I know few adults who say 'titties', I think we should retire boyfriend as well. But therein is the quandary... what to replace it with? Significant other is too formal... mate sounds too zoo-like. Partner obviously implies same-sex in this day and age. Any ideas on this one?H is here. Time to battle the T-crowds back to Quincy.-Jane

There are only so many times you can hear a catchy advertisement before you must submit to the advertised product (classic marketing wisdom)... Who wouldn't want to experience the joy of a livejournal for herself after hearing it mentioned in conversation so much around the house? So... here it is. Enlightenment found me and whispered that this may very well be the perfect way to keep in touch with all those wonderful friends whom I never seem to find time to write individually. Not to mention the perfect forum to vent my mind from time to time...And speaking of time, what better way to procrastinate at work? Ahhh...

I want to do something creative with this. Something useful. Now that I have the other journal for personal garbage. But right now all I can think about is cuddling up with the mountain goats and depressing myself to oblivion.OR getting tipsy and dancing the night away to Daft Punk.Oh the choices.

The thing I hate the most about having my heart broken is that it makes me dislike change, when change is something that used to comfort me.I spent 2 hours getting hit on 12-14 year old girls and boys, all because I was in a giant rabbit costume. Something about that doesn't seem exactly right, but it was an interesting experience none the less. What a day. What a year.

If Neil Gaiman was my dad I'd ask him to write me stories all the time.