� Jim Crace, in "Being Dead"

Is it fair to make people engage with you on your terms, no that�s not quite right, to tell them in advance like it�s a contract you�re entering into � and let�s not overlook that it is � that a, b, and c are accessible topics and d, e, and f are acceptable modes of response but that if they start busting out g and h and j then you will panic and withdraw and that, rather than presenting a veiled threat, what you are doing is in fact describing the best possible outcome? Wondering. Not that one does this habitually, I mean not that I do. And really it�s more about the prohibition than the prescription � what I don�t want to talk about and what I don�t want to hear your opinion concerning is, to my mind, the smallest part of what could be pulled out of the ether and, yes, nominalized at any given moment. Let�s talk about fruit salad, let�s talk about politics, let�s talk about art, let�s talk about Art. The reason I don�t want to talk about what I don�t want to talk about, usually, is that I�m in the process of sorting it out for myself, and I have always had that laws-and-sausages feeling about these things (about myself?), I am embarrassed by the grossness of their not-what-they-will-be state and I would rather keep them to myself until they are presentable. Opposing arguments:

1. But aren�t they made presentable in part by other people�s input, probing, refinement; like, don�t be so hard on yourself by putting it in sausage terms and think rather of how carbon becomes a diamond?
2. And am I not perhaps doing them (and myself) a disservice by not putting them up to the maximum scrutiny?
3. If you can see the point of how intimacy � the kind you have with special someones and also the less scary kind you have with friends � sometimes has to involve discomfort, why not allow that embarrassment figures into the mix as well?
4. As for this process of sorting things out for yourself, if it�s so private then who will rescue you from a roadblock when you hit one, who will even see that you�ve encountered one? I mean, seeing as you�re such a princess about embarrassment, it�s not like you�re going to call attention to the fact yourself.
5. Why does the sorting-out have to be embarrassing? Why can�t you instead be exhilarated by the spectrum of possibilities for yourself, the fact that, after the sorting, you could set into motion any one of a boatload of outcomes and incidentally be good at all of them? Sure the first steps are always excruciating, but no one is born already knowing how to walk. Don�t be beating yourself up that for the time being you are sitting still. Wiggle your foot or something, stay in the game, and think how cool it will be when your legs will let you run.
6. This "live tall" jive � how are you going to put that into practice when you�re hiding in plain sight by attempting to slinking along the floor? When you�re essentially cowering?

Here�s a good thing about Gastro: once I�m hired, which by the way looks to be imminent � please, restrain your applause, I don�t want to get started on how hard HR is trying to fuck me over on the salary and by the way everything else as well � I think there�s some room for schedule flexibility as long as I was putting in my ha-ha 40 hours; maybe I could come in at eleven or noon one day a week and then "stay" late two evenings to make up for it. And as for the fucking-over, last night I was talking to Rebecca about the employment situation in general and I said that what I suspected will happen after I�m officially on the books here is that I�ll take a breath and say, Whew, after all those months of uncertainty and flailing I have achieved stability and, its shittiness and low low pay notwithstanding, I have a job. And then I will take another breath and say, Oh my god, I have a job but it is working at *Gastro*, oh good lord, and there is always some degree of shittiness in play, and the pay is a slap in the face! Get me out of here! Like, if you want to move things with a level, all you need is a solid place to stand on. And once you have that solid place, you have no excuse not to put it to the test. Have you ever seen the episodes of "Seinfeld" where Elaine, laid off from her job at the publisher, resorts to working as personal assistant to Mr. Pitt? I decided a few nights ago that the comparison is just a little too apt to be as funny as it should. Dr. Blahblah for sure could be Mr. Pitt�s brother. Oy. And also, I am well pleased with the banana and the grapefruit, which I have extrapolated into a general, not overly self-punitive plan to try to avoid carbohydrates as best I can on weekdays until after work. Both yesterday and today there were treats, a tiny cherry tart and a crumpet if you must know, and in offices it�s hard to decline that sort of thing without seeming unfriendly, especially if it�s homemade � Vanessa has a friend who became vegan as a non-unfriendly way to opt out of the constant cake onslaught where she worked � but if I�m already being good, then a tiny tart is nothing, and I end up resenting neither the tart-bearer for pushing it on me nor myself for eating it. On Wednesday night at trivia I totally forgot about the alcohol codicil and poured my first beer around 7:40. Not ideal. Also at trivia, I did espy Steve�s dinner-party friends, the ones who are, um, predisposed against me. I wasn�t sure it was they and of course they don�t know what I look like either, but later I got confirmation, and it turns out that I peed mere feet away from the more virulent of them, she and I were in the can at the same time. This makes me feel giggly and like Harriet the Spy; however, it is with reluctance that I must admit that it would not be very adult of me to keep showing up each week and giggling my inward giggle no matter how much I like trivia � and, fuck, I do � and that the advisable course is to concede them their territory and stay away. Because apparently they are longtime regulars, and it�s a fluke that this bar is also Jerry�s choice for trivia night because he happens to live close by. Bah. Maybe if I gave Jerry and Terry a ride I could convince them to move the party elsewhere. And then Steve could come too sometimes, hooray.

And here are some good things about Steve, which I record here without perfunction. One, he does not have a passive-aggressive bone in his body. Two, he subscribed to the crossword at en-why-times-dot-com and gave me his login and password so I can kneebite off his account (so now I have the crossword to do every day if I want to, which I am fear will make me less inclined to want to write in my diary, so now I am idly revisiting the idea of making the bus commute work for me at least sometimes, so I can keep my eye on a book or a grid while someone else watches the road; what do you think?) Three, lack of passive-aggressiveness manifests itself in him not getting defensive when I pick up his half-finished puzzle and knock it off � though, man, yesterday�s was hard, I didn�t get the gimmick so I was clueless, today�s looks a little better. Four, a week or so ago he corrected my usage of "diffident," and he was right. Five, he just sent mail asking if I would like to get taken to dinner tonight before we retire to my sofa to enjoy the fruits of Netflix. Six, he is as good as Number Two about kicking my ass w/r/t the list items above, and it makes a nice dialectic because Number Two is all supportive and encouraging and maybe even a touch more hand-holdy than my dignity will long be comfortable with and Steve comes at me determinedly with a big steaming plate full of The Facts, which tends to make me anxious at first like they will burn me but then later I realize, Well, yes, those *are* the facts, and that�s just how hot they are, and the same way I admire Julian for calling bullshit on me when no one else will, Steve is wonderful for not kowtowing to my neuroses, for trying to make me not be so afraid of myself. Which � ta-da! � and I realize that diagnosis may be hopelessly vague to you, and again without the my-therapist-says I will try to articulate it better some other time, I am coming to see is one of my major problems, if not the big kahuna.

There.

Here�s what I mean about Steve and the no p-a bone. And here�s where you see that my diary is not here primarily for your entertainment (I don�t mean that in a snotty way; last night I was just thinking about how often I am told that mine is �too long� to keep up with and why I�ve never been able to motivate myself to do something about that). I forget exactly how this came about, but it was just after an, um, discussion about the list items, and I was sitting at the table with his ridiculous old cat in my lap, and Steve made some comment about her ridiculousness or oldness and as a joke I defended her, saying to the cat, "Isn�t that just like a man, kitty, only seeing what�s on the outside and ignoring how beautiful you are on the inside." I was clearly joking, right? Ha ha, me giving the half-comatose cat a sisterhood-is-powerful high five, that is funny. But Steve said, and I don�t mean to the cat, "Well, how is he supposed to see how beautiful someone is on the inside if she insists on hiding half of that from him? If she�s so concerned with cultivating some image she thinks he should have of her, then how well does he even know her?" And on the one hand, damn! what a total total bust. On the other hand, he could not have been more right. So take note: progress is being made on multiple fronts. I say it and it is so.

I�m making more lists this weekend. Also I am vacuuming, calling my sister and running an errand in Bellevue for her, and doing something TBD with Steve and Vanessa and Popeye before Uncle Sam reels him back up to Oak Harbor. Other possible activities also include "Talk To Her" with Terry, "The Quiet American" with myself if I have to, and getting my tattoo touched up.

The best thing about today so far is that I got to talk to Catharine for, wow, was it more than half an hour? A consituent element of the good life if I ever heard of one. I had some more to write but I�m forgetting it now, and since Dr. Blahblah is out of town today and I�ve got both the puzzle and some magazines to catch up on, I will now post with haste.

I feel good. I hope you do too.