 not finding much time to write, at least not here. I've written some interesting stories, my first fiction since about third grade. There are 3 more weeks of school and I'm one busy woman. Some photos that have been sitting in my camera for a while:
Snow on newly-planted tulips on April 7.
Red and yellow tulips on my window ledge at work. This is about April 9. The Seattle Convention and Visitor's bureau sent us bunches of red tulips and Frappacinos, so it was a tulip-filled week. Note the rain on the window and other office drones working across the street.
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Barnard Greek Games statue with Columbia in the background. Really wish I was going there, I love the tiny campus with access to all of Columbia's resources (although this means many men on campus, unlike most women's colleges). It's the only Seven Sisters campus without an adult studies program.
Barnard's campus. I attended a reading by poet/activist Adrienne Rich last Tuesday.
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Protestors on the steps of the main post office, across from Madison Square Garden/Penn Station on tax day. There were anti-war protestors and students protesting fee hikes at the public universities.
Last minute tax filers, like yours truly.
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I went to two Passover seders held by the parents of coworkers. I was honored to be invited, one by a board member, no less. So far away from my friends and family, it was nice to be part of a family dinner. I was off work since 1 pm on Wednesday, so the least I could do was go to a couple of seders. The first seder, in New Jersey had 18 people, it was a bit overwhelming. For the first time I can think of, I got to sit at the kiddie table. There was actually only one baby, the rest were rowdy adults and a disproportionate share of Gentiles. The second, in Long Island, was just family -- mom, dad, two sisters. In some ways, that was more intense.
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I was so glad to be able to wear a lightweight skirt, blouse and sandals today. Only later did I realize that my "spring" ensemble was entirely black. I've been in New York too long. Tonight I had a date with an actual man who might not be afraid of being intellectually, physically AND emotionally attracted to an actual woman -- not a teenager, idiot, skeleton, non-English speaker or Asian fetish object. Imagine that! His name is Eric. The universe sure has a sense of humor. He seemed like a nice enough person, and by sheer dumb luck, intelligent. But I found it incredibly awkward, I could hardly look at him. I simply cannot understand the concept of someone approaching me on the street based solely on what I look like any more than I understand being rejected for such a spurious reason. He thinks I'm beautiful, but what is that? Merely the result of who's fucked who generation after generation and the fact that I've been in no disfiguring accidents, as yet. What of my mind, spirit, talent, the things I value? Don't they matter at all? A woman told me the other day that "this is the way men are, that's the way the world works." My response? That's what they said about slavery. All the justifications in the world didn't make blacks inferior nor the system just. Meanwhile, I find myself falling slowly in like with a cunning linguist transplanted from Orange County, of all places. While his baritone and enthusiasm help, it's his intellect I find so very enticing. He doesn't have a type (though, no more Britneys, Kristis or Jennifers, please!), but does demand a woman who "gives good mind." That makes more sense to me than anything I've heard in a long, long time.
[Next entry: "in Love with London"]
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