It's a Small World After All

We all know DC is a small town and you have to be careful, because everyone you meet is separated from you by 2 degrees, at best. I re-learned this lesson in a big way on Saturday night and I’ll tell you the story as a cautionary tale.

I went to the birthday party of a new-ish friend on Saturday at a local bar. My old co-worker (you’ll soon see why I am not using her name) joined me for the b-day festivities. We decided to meet, grab a beer and then head to the party.

When we got to the first bar, she seemed a little tipsy, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. She said she’d been drinking wine earlier, so that explained it.

We had a beer and went to the party bar. This is where things got interesting. As soon as we walked in, she went to the bathroom while I got beers and joined the party group. I am happy to see our old boss is not in attendance, so I sit down and relax. My friend doesn’t come back for a while, so eventually I go to look for her. She’s at the bar talking to some guy, so I give her the beer and don’t give it another thought.

A while later, she drift back into the group of people I’m talking to and I notice she’s flirting, pretty blatantly, with some guy. Again, par for the course, but it’s getting obvious she’s really drunk. Eventually she tells me she’s leaving, and we do the typical girl “Are you ok? Do you need me to call you a cab? Are you going home with that guy?” discussion. She assures me she’s fine, I talk to the guy and nothing about him yells serial-rapist-slasher, so she leaves.

I speak to her on Monday and she says she has no recollection of leaving the bar, but woke up fully clothed, wickedly hung over.

As the night goes on, I start talking to random guy who came to the party late and end up giving him my card before I leave.

Today he emails me. After a few exchanges, he says, “You’ll never believe what happened to my friend on Saturday.” He tells this horrible story how his friend went home with a girl who was throwing herself at him at the bar. She passed out in a cab, had to be carried into the apartment, woke up and began throwing herself at him and then, after about 10 minutes of making out she sat up, looked at him and began yelling to get out of her apartment. He got freaked out and left in a panic.

I’m sure you’ve already guessed the kicker – his friend went home with my old co-worker.

The best part – she dropped her phone when he was carrying her into the apartment so he put it in his pocket and forgot to give it back when she freaked out… so they have to see each other again in order for her to get the phone back.

Let this be a lesson to you – if you’re going to get drunk, take home a random and the flip out, make sure you’re not in the small world of DC… or prepare for others to find out the details of your night before you do.

Sit, Ubu, sit. Good dog.

If only my dog were as good as that Ubu.

During my Christmas break, Casey stayed with my parents for two weeks while I galavanted around DC. During that time, she managed to eat a loaf of bread and a box of doughnuts (on different days, at least) from the counter.

Since she's been home, the acting out has continued. I'm not sure if she's punishing me because I've been busier the past two weeks, but she has been BAD. One afternoon, I came home to find her hiding out in my bedroom in the basement, her paws covered with a thick, doughy white substance. Further investigation uncovered the misdeed: she had pulled a box of pancake mix from the shelf and torn it open. (I'm assuming she was disappointed that it didn't actually taste like pancakes, since she left most of it sitting in a giant pile on the floor.)

Last night, I was sitting comfortably in my room, reading my assignments, when I heard her plod down the stairs. When she hadn't come into my room after several minutes, I got suspicious. I found her in Nay's room, eating a discarded pita and yogurt container.

This afternoon, after class, Nay came home to discover Casey had taken a banana from the counter and rumaged through her trash. And the piece de resistance? Shamelessly eating a cookie from a cookie sheet while Nay was even home.

So no, I don't have a dog, I have a cleanup crew, and these days she doesn't even seem to mind what she's cleaning. So much for obedience training. I wonder how those TV folks got their dog under control?

No Wonder I feel So Crowded

That's a lot of people...

Paralysis

When I was a little girl, I was terrified of ordering pizza.

I know it sounds utterly ridiculous, but I have a very distinct memory of sitting near the telephone in our kitchen with a phone book in front of me open to the "pizza" listings, a sheet of paper in front of me with written details of exactly the kind of pizza we wanted (size and toppings, my earliest use of talking points, if you will), and the cradle of the phone sitting in my hand, my other hand pressed on the receiver to prevent the obnoxious and distracting buzzing of the dial tone. In my head, I silently rehearse exactly what it is I want to say. "I'd like to order a pizza? Yes, a large pizza with sausage and extra cheese." I say it over and over again. Then as I lift my fingers to dial, the shaking begins. My whole body quivers as though I am standing alone on a stage, in front of an auditorium of thousands, suddenly realizing that the eloquent soliloquy I had so expertly memorized has left me, and all I can do is gape ignorantly at the faces staring back at me expectantly. I slam my hand back on the receiver again, trembling as I rehearse again in my head, building up the courage to call.

Yes, yes, of course, I got over my fear of talking on the phone and now I can order a pizza without a second thought. But I stumbled onto a realization today, sitting in class, that the real fear underlying that whole embarrassing incident has never really left me.

I am terrified of taking verbal risks.

I don't really know, maybe it's because my earliest exposures to speaking in front of people often involved school plays and family reunion skits, where I was on stage to speak only the words and ideas prepared for me in advance. Follow the script, recite the lines. No problem.

Or maybe it's because of my tendency to have more of a writer's brain. Throughout my life, I've "scripted" millions of imaginary conversations in my head. Planned eloquent arguments, passionate pleas and virulent arguments. I used to spend hours on my bicycle, circling the driveway and living out my interactions with life in my head.

But for some reason, I have always had trouble actually vocalizing those thoughts, those ideas. There's something comforting about writing out your thoughts; you can edit them, you can change them. You can make them as lyrical and powerful as you like. You don't have to show them to anyone if you don't want to. But speaking your mind, out loud, off the cuff, can have incredible consequences.

I remember one time I did take the risk as a child and speak one of those comebacks that had been festering in my head. One of the boys at school had been teasing me, following me around, trying to show me that he "liked" me. I wanted none of it, I simply wanted him to disappear. I plotted the response in my head, and the next time he came around to bother me, I blurted it out, hurriedly and nastily.

"You're like a virus that won't go away!"

The look of hurt and disappointment on his face was so raw and immediate that I never forgave myself for treating him so poorly.

Once you speak out loud, people have an immediate impression of who you are. For certain, it may be a completely wrong impression, but we are all quick to judge based on what other people say. I can look to my own thoughts about other students who volunteer in class; more often than not, once I get to know the student on a more personal level, I find my initial thoughts were quite off-target. But we can't help ourselves. We need to identify ways to categorize, to divide up, to assess the people around us. Sometimes what comes out of our mouths is the easiest way to do that.

And I am still afraid of being assessed in the same way. To this day, I sit in class, reflecting on what the professors and my classmates are saying. Thinking of my own ideas and examples. Writing a script in my head of the perfect thing to say and then remaining completely paralyzed, unable to dial the numbers and let the order come tumbling out to the impatient teenager on the other end.

The bitch of it all is is that there IS no perfect thing to say. No script, no talking points, no ideas that just come straight from the depths of either heart or mind can ever be perfect. Maybe that's what is most terrifying to me--if I can't say "the perfect" thing, how can I even ensure that what I say has value? It's almost as though I dread the idea of saying something irrelevant. Because there is some small part of me that fears being just that--irrelevant. Dismissible. Judged.

The rational brain in my head (what little there may be, anyway) tells me that making progress involves taking a step forward. I may have made it (successfully) through high school, college, and even the work force living in fear of the sound of my own voice, but if I am to live a successful life, I know I must overcome my fear. If I am to change it, I must start with opening my mouth.

Today, a question. Tomorrow, a fact. The day after, an opinion and even an original idea. Somewhere it has to begin. And I am resolved to do it.

Of course, I always have the pizza man to practice on.

Return to Chi-Town

Maybe it's because the air was warmer and the sky blue.

Maybe it's because I knew Rob was still snuggled up under the covers back at the house, here for almost two full days more.

Maybe it's because I spent the last night of 2005 and the first morning of 2006 with wonderful friends I didn't even know six months ago.

Maybe it's because I know this time next year, school will be a fading memory and I will be beginning a whole new adventure, whatever that may be.

Maybe it's just because the sight of a man in a bathrobe and slippers, sweeping leaves from the street, simply makes me laugh out loud.

Whatever the reason, I realized on my walk with Casey this morning that I'm happy to be back in Evanston, and I'm ready for anything the year may bring.

Happy New Year, everyone.