Despertar

things that only happen in nightmares

I bolted from the office at eight and practically jogged home from the Metro, desperate to get there in time to change into gym clothes so I could work out and watch Jon and Kate Plus 8, it being "big announcement" night (which, no, I'm not surprised, but I am sad; I got a little choked up when Kate referred to the kids as "a statistic") before bunkering down with my laptop and my notes to finish this hellacious healthcare research assignment whose viselike jaws just will not release my life. Got home in time, check. Changed into gym clothes, check. Got to the gym in plenty of time for my show, check. I'm completely out of shape after a solid three weeks of all-nighters and skipped spinning dates, but I got my heart rate up, I actually had some pep in my step when I got back onto the elevator. I was actually sort of looking forward to the bunkering-down leg of my plan for the night. Several frustrated restart attempts and phone calls to Comcast later, though, I discovered service interruptions were going to prevent me from getting any work done at home. No chance of finishing, sending it off, then swiftly falling asleep in one fell swoop.

So: I am back at the office. I am about to spend my twenty-fourth of the past thirty-six hours at the office. Walking into and out of this building is starting to feel a little like being chewed up and crapped out, over and over and over again.

*

1. Who is one person that you no longer hang out with? Why did that association end?
It hasn't officially ended yet, but I'm pretty sure we can stick a fork in my friendship with my ex-roommate, Valerie. It's a long, boring story full of tedious chronological and financial details, but basically, she purposely screwed me over about renewing our lease, spilled her intentions to a mutual friend of ours while drunk, then totally lied to cover her ass when the truth got back to me. It's probably for the best. Living with her had become more exhausting than ever. I've got a pretty cool summer subletter, Jennie, who when the summer ends will be replaced by an equally inoffensive girl, Nicole, who unfortunately has slept with my friend Hugh, but is generally pretty nice. No arrangement is perfect, but anything will beat having Val interrogate me about our (fairly static) utility charges every single month.

2. What was the last item you put into your pants pocket?
All I ever put into my pants pockets is money. My butt is big enough already without adding the appearance of more bulk in the back, and women's front pants pockets are not designed to actually hold anything.

3. Is it ever difficult for you to recall what you had to eat the day before?
One of the traditions of the summer associate program at most law firms is the intense associate lunch culture. Over the course of these ten weeks, I'm expected to go to lunch at least twenty times with various associates from different practice groups, each time on the firm's dime. We've hit basically every nice place within walking distance of Dupont Circle. Today, Otello, a cozy, popular Italian restaurant that sprinkles just a few too many chocolate jimmies on its cannolis. Last Thursday, Heritage, an Indian buffet sadly lacking in sag paneer on that particular day. Two Mondays before that, the same West End Bistro where last summer I got the amazing lamb burger I would literally dream about twice during the school year. My approach to these lunches, which is equal parts voracious and neurotically reticent, has confirmed my suspicion that I've become completeyl food-obsessed.

4. How about for the past week?
See above.

5. Who was the last person to endanger your life, whether it was accidentally or intentionally?
Definitely me. Driving to Tyler Elementary the other day, with two coworkers in the car, I suffered a total lapse in depth perception (not that rare for me) and sideswiped the back corner of a parked truck. I took off my sideview mirror, which now dangles precariously from its own wiring. I just plain do not have the damn time to take it in for fixing, nor am I eager to hear it's going to cost me eight hundred dollars or whatever.

6. What was the last thing you started over on?
Specifically, that would be the aforementioned healthcare project, which I turned in at one o'clock this morning after several frustrating restarts. In the more general sense, it's my life as a single person, which is a whole different animal than the other kind.

7. What was the last task that you completed?
My mom bought me this little plant, I don't know the name, to bring to my office in an effort to make it more livable. I kept not bringing it, though, because I didn't feel like riding the subway--arduous under any circumstances--with this clay pot spilling dirt in my hands. I overslept this morning, which justified me in taking a cab to work, which in turn left me with no excuse not to finally bring the plant. (See how boring my life is without sex in it?)

8. Have you ever failed at something extremely important to you? If yes, what?
I really wanted to eventually marry Marcus. That was "extremely important" to me, even if it was also completely retarded. A little older and a little more mature, I was hoping not to conquer some extreme goal with Justin, but to actually be happy with him. I failed at that, too. I fail at relationships. The sad thing is, I'm so good at so many other things, and I care so much less about them.

9. When was the last time that you wanted time to move faster?
In the cab. The traffic was crawling and the cab driver was listening to really awful talk radio. Halfway through the ride, he turned it down and said something to me in Amharic. Probably he was asking whether I was Ethiopian. All Ethiopian cab drivers, of which there are many in D.C., ask me whether I am Ethiopian. "Ethiopian women have a very certain look," they always say, winking at me in their rearview mirrors. "I was sure you were one of us." I always laugh and say "My parents are both American, we have African ancestry but we don't know what, specifically," and the affection dims some after that. As though I lose value by being slave-descended. I have a high forehead and very wide eyes, characteristics shared by lots of Ethiopian women, so maybe they're right. Probably they're right. It's not like I have every single Liberian and Sudanese person going out of his way to tell me I look like one of his people.

10. Slower?
Last night, working on my healthcare project. I promised to have it in before I fell asleep, but I was writing like a snail.

11. When was the last time you felt impatient with someone?
Father's Day weekend was brutal. I think everyone goes through this transition at some point. Your parents cease to be relevant role models and start to seem clueless and backward. It took me twenty minutes to explain to my mother how to add to the address book in her cell phone. Then they wanted to watch Milk, because my mother, despite her liberal leanings, has nothing but absolute contempt for the gay rights movement, an attitude she knows I can't tolerate, so, we thought we'd share a conversation piece. We watched Milk. It was brutal. My father paused it every fifteen minutes, literally, to repeat some line heavy with anti-gay propaganda, spoken by either Anita Bryant or Dan Briggs, as though seeing the issues clearly for the first time. The experience ended with my calling my parents "bigots," which didn't bother them, and then "closet conservatives," which bothered them a lot. Hypocrisy!

12. Who was the last person that you called a "bitch"?
Myself. I have vicious PMS this week and have pulled three all-nighters. I have no kindness to spare on anyone.

13. Who, i fanyone, was the last person to address you by that term?
See above.

14. When was the last time you questioned whether or not you were making the right decision?
Every day is sort of a moral tug-of-war, for me. Is it terrible that Marcus and I are regular gchat buddies these days? I've blocked him three times this summer because of conscience attacks, and he is currently blocked on orders from Tina, but in between, we get into daily, impassioned discussions that invariably escalate into arguments by the time I leave the office. He sees our history through a very revisionist lens and can't understand why there should be even the slightest trust barriers between us. I resent that, if we're such great pals, he clams up whenever I ask about his shrewish girlfriend. He's smart and his conversation stimulates me in the same way it always did, but I can't forget that we're still talking in secret, against the express wishes of said shrew. On principle, I don't think she has the right to dictate whom he is and isn't allowed to talk to, and I definitely don't like her enough to look out for her interests, but it feels weird anyway, especially considering there are days I literally lean forward in my chair just waiting for him to say something I can tear to shreds.

15. Has a boy/girlfriend ever made you feel bad about yourself?
No way, boys are silly and interchangeable. I never let them break me down.

16. Has a boy/girlfriend ever suggested that you might want to lose some weight, or that it might make you look better?
I've never weighed more than one-twenty.

17. What is your idea of "too big" when it comes to weight?
I have pretty ridiculous standards. I think most people could stand to lose weight, myself included. When it bothers me most, though, is when I come across people who appear to have dressed themselves in the dark. Women with gigantic love handles crammed into tiny tube tops and really tight jeans, et cetera.

18. How about "too thin"?
That one, you just know it when you see it. I've never thought I was too thin, but when I see girls who are as small as I was at my smallest, I think they look skeletal and sickly. I give free passes, however, for good posture. Skinny girls who hunch over look horrible; skinny girls who stand up straight look willowy and delicate.

19. How long do you spend looking for surveys that you wish to take?
On average, I probably reject about fifteen before I get frustrated and just pick one already. I automatically skip surveys whose questions yield one- or two-word answers, because what's the point? You already know my name, age, zodiac sign, and if you ever cared enough to take note of other little demographic factoids, you probably already remember them.

20. What percentage of the day would you say you spend worrying?
Eighty-seven.

21. Have you ever decided that you like/dislike someone based on their survey answers?
Yes. Surveys can be very polarizing in that way. I decided long ago that I reeeeeally don't like the Canadian kid from whom I (anonymously) steal most of the surveys I take here. And all I know about him are his answers to the same questions I've answered above and before.

22. What are some unfair stereotypes against women?
It's not that the stereotypes themselves are unfair; most stereotypes are rooted in truth. It's how those stereotypes affect the way we are treated, and that our social positioning relative to men limits our ability to fight back. It's unfair that men have adapted their dating game to reflect the stereotype that women are time-consuming and clingy. It's unfair that my very real spatial reasoning shortcomings (did I mention I sideswiped a parked truck and broke off my sideview mirror two weeks ago?) make anyone sitting in the passenger seat of my car think I'm a ditzy moron. It's unfair that I'm one of those girls who "talk too much," and that therefore men feel justified in tuning me out when all I'm trying to do is explore feelings or present information.

23. How about against men?
It's unfair that they're universally assumed to be selfish and sex-obsessed, but again, stereotypes are rooted in truth. Men have different social aims and motivators than women do.

24. Have you ever used your body or your appearance to get what you wanted?
Not directly or consciously, but, sure.

25. What was the subject of the last emotional convesration you had with someone?
Justin. Whether I'm going to accept his lunch date on Friday, whether I'm ready to see him casually without it wrecking my week and life. Still undecided. I'm giving myself a Wednesday deadline to call him back.