Reading The Tea

I have made a big, terrifying, exhilarating, life-altering decision.

I gave notice at my job. “Job” is doing paperwork at a big academic institution here in the bay area. I’ve learned several things during my year here. 1.) I hate doing paperwork. 2.) I love teaching, research and writing. 3.) I know what I want to do. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, but been too scared to really pursue.

So, what next? I’m going to pursue dance, music and theater. I love teaching. I love performing. I love choreographing. I love researching. I love writing. Is this practical? No. Am I going to make it work? Yes.

I have a plan, but I’ll spare the gory details. (At least for now…)

This time the move is much more localized: Goodbye Palo Alto, Hello San Francisco! On April 4th D & I will be moving into a lovely apartment with wood floors, thick walls and a gas stove. You know what that means? Dancing at home while cooking good food! It also means a longer commute to work, but reading on the Caltrain is not such a bad use of time. Biking is good for me! I think I need to get some better rain gear…

One of these days more real posts, for those of you who actually still read.

It’s always a bit odd to completely uproot and move across the country. Here I am, three years later, experiencing the disorientation again. It’s hard to feel settled. It’s also hard to believe in the last three years. There are many things about being back in the west that I’m enjoying — getting to see much more of some of my family, reconnecting with old friends, starting connections with new friends, rock climbing, hiking, breathing clean air, more dancing. I also miss a lot of my friends in NY like crazy. I also miss the centrality of NY culture. When you’re there you can at least believe that you’re in the nucleus of everything that’s happening. I have a bad feeling that no matter which side of the country I’m on I’ll be homesick for the other.

I’m also in a weird transition place where I’m trying to figure out what direction to head next. Hitting that late 20s point many of my friends seem to ask “Ok, what next?” Well, here I am, asking. I was talking to someone from my calculus class (Yes, taking a college class right now feels weird.) and we were discussing her full-time school, full-time job situation. She’s getting tight on money, and was wondering if she should load on an additional job, or take a term off of school. The overload reminds me so much of myself at her age. I remember thinking that it was just for now, just for college, then life would start. What a shock when I realized that a magic gong isn’t set to ring at a point, announcing the beginning of “real life.” Life is now. I’m once again at a cross-roads, waiting. But no matter what point I’m at, I need to remind myself that life is now. So there, self.

This Thursday a relocube will take up residence in front of our apt. building for four hours, while D & I scramble to get all of the boxes and furniture down and play real-life Tetris to get everything to fit. The past couple of weeks I’ve been packing and sleeping intermittently, but mostly sleeping. Transitions do that to me — I get the urge to hibernate. Unfortunately that doesn’t inspire the boxes to pack themselves. However, the past two days, much to the cat’s chagrin, we’ve been on task putting everything into boxes. So far I’ve sold the Huffy bike, the black dresser, and put a bunch of stuff out on the street for free. In the next couple of days people are coming to look at the couch and the kitchen wood block, and someone’s coming tonight for the kitchen table. Did I mention that I really don’t like this process? When I start to feel grumpy about it though, or the urge to take a nap, I just remember that I’m not at work…
In any case, we’re off to Portland on Sept. 1. I bought one-way tickets today, so it’s really happening.

I think that we’re usually happy to be Not Dead, but today I’m more aware of it than most days. Yesterday was quite exciting. Too exciting. In fact, enough to make me want to give up on excitement for quite some time.

Yesterday morning started with spectacular flashes of light (though not green) and booming thunder. On the way to the subway for work I waded through water swirling around my ankles on the street. Other people faced an even worse commute than I did. (Photos below curtesy of co-worker’s father.)

Fortunately, the storm had let up by the time I was leaving work. I’d shut my computer down, and stopped by my co-worker’s desk on my way out to hear about what a bad week she’d been having when the business director popped out of his office, agitated and wanting to know what was going on. When he mentioned it, I became aware of the commotion down the hall, that I’d been tuning out. (The entertainment dept. are down there. They make a lot of noise. Routinely.)

One of the assistants came down the hall, saying that she’d looked out the window by her desk and the building next to us was collapsing. Other people came down the hall, confused, with murmers about explosions and building collapses. The business director darted here and there shouting to stay calm, not to panick, not to run.

One of my co-workers told the person she was on chat with “I have to go.” Him: “Why?” Her: “I think the building next to us exploded.” Another shut down her computer and gathered her stuff. My boss’ office door was closed — she was on a conference call. I knocked on her door and said, “Excuse me. I hate to interupt, but we need to leave the building. I believe that the building next to us is collapsing.” 

The elevators were locked down, so we all headed down the stairs from the 16th floor. I was glad that I hadn’t moved to my new office on the 38th floor yet. We could feel a deep rumbling that sounded like any number of buildings were coming down. One of my co-workers reminded us to hold the hand rails, in case the building power went out. That was around the 10th floor when I realized, “Hey, this could be something really serious. This could be something really horrible.”

Once downstairs an associate found us who was having a panic attack, reliving her experience from 9/11. She said it looked and felt just like it. No one could get through on cell phones. We walked west, away from the MetLife building, away from the smoke, steam, debris. We had to brush dirty stuff off our clothes (Which contained asbestos, I later found out. Great.).

When we got to Times Square we parted ways. One co-worker and I going to visit Auntie at her office, then going on to get dinner. We eventually found out that it was caused by a steam pipe. Last count I read, over 40 people were injured. The whole experience was a sobering reminding that we’re all a little afraid, working here in a landmark building. I even joke about it — “I’m going to die first if there’s another attack.” I don’t think that I will any more. That was a little too close.

Anyway, that’s why today I’m glad to be Not Dead.

Still here. [Checks.] Yup, still around.

I’ve been…

• knitting (maybe some time I’ll put up photos)
• working (three weeks left on this job)
• walking (when the weather doesn’t make me melt — sometimes when it does)
• watching Dr. Who (new episode obsession)
• visiting with sister (yay for Sarah visits)
• reading (trying to re-read all of the Harry Potter books before the 7th comes out)
• pining (for trees and air and green and coasts that are not beaches)
• thinking (about life, future directions, being a grown-up)
• sleeping (changes make me sleep a lot)
• soaking in NY (times, they are a changin’)

I haven’t posted for quite some time, so this is just going to be jumble of things that I’ve intended to write full posts about, but somehow haven’t found the time.

First, sympathy to everyone affected by the Virginia Tech shootings yesterday. There’s a lot to say about that, but my fingers won’t type the right things, so I’ll leave it at that.

Did the Yale Tango Festival weekend-before-last. It was my very first tango festival (Awww…)! Now I’m afraid that I’m going to become an addict. One of the highlights for me was Robin & Jennifer’s gaucho class. Now I (likely) embarress anyone with the misfortune to wait on a subway platform or elevator bank with me by practicing letting my leg have it’s own weight while swinging. Brigetta and Tomas’ milonga musicality class may just have changed my feeling about that dance forever. After a couple of classes from the school of thought where you have to keep. going. on. every. beat. sometimes. go twice. but. always. fast. I was sure that I’d never really enjoy it. They introduced the revolutionary idea of actually listening to the music, and varying speed of step accordingly (twice in a beat, every beat, every other beat, long pauses…). I lead Carlos and Tova’s turns class, but actually took away an interesting exercise that mostly pertains to follows — put all of your weight on one foot, twist your upper body 90 degrees on one directions, and let your lower body catch up. Repeat. Good obliques workout, different way of thinking about ochos.

In other tango news, I took a follower’s technique over at Dance Manhattan from Valeria. She puts so much musicality and expression into just an ocho, just a step. Tempo/ emphasis can be effective embellishments.

Since I didn’t get around to posting last Friday, the 13th, I’ll mention now that some people suffer from paraskavedekatriaphobia.

Last night I went to the  church of craft meeting in the East Village, at the lovely new Rapture Cafe. Lovely people, lovely projects, lovely cafe.

Last Friday night/ Saturday morning Dustin & I went to the last big party at 3rd Ward. As the danger parties tend to be, it was eclectic, bleary, pillowy, flashing, with lots of new friends.

Other things going on in life, decisions being made. How’s that for nice & vague? Almost a flashback to my early LJ days…

Just back from Thurs. - Sunday in Chicago, running weekend retreat for work. I think that I slept about eight hours total while I was there — being everyone’s best friend while juggling running events and connecting w/ outside vendors was exhausting. We had 80 people from 20 offices there, and by the end they were mixing and mingling and bellowing out Karaoke. (Bust a move — yes, I did sing it…) I think that could be called successful. They also seemed alert and engaged during our sessions, which is something considering that they slept almost as little as I did. Now I need to get plans for the next one off the ground, and get moving on implementing some of the ideas they came up with…

I didn’t get a chance to get out and dance over the weekend, and this morning I stepped on a pottery shard my cats managed to find and leave for me next to the bed. I’m going to the doctor about it this afternoon, and hope that it won’t slow me down too much on the dance front…