Tuesday, February 28, 2006

A Pooping Story

I am a public pooper.

However, I will try not to expose any innocent bystanders with offensive sounds and smells. I'm considerate like that. I normally try camoflauge techniques -- my favorite one is waiting for a neighbor to flush the toilet and I release all my contents at the same time. The flushing hides the sounds of splashing.

Today, luck was not on my side.

I felt that familiar urge sitting at my desk and casually walked quickly to the bathroom. Both end stalls were occupied leaving the center one for me. I sat and waited for my cue, but one of those little buggers pulled a fast one and made a run for the border. Damn! It was sneaky and evasive, making hardly a sound, but it left a trail of vapors. I, being so close to the finish line, was treated to the smell and I wondered if it penetrated the stall walls yet.

Before I could send silent prayers of condolense to my neighbors, I heard the shuffle of feet to my left. The warning bell indicated that the flush was soon to follow. I was in position -- feet firmly planted, suit jacket hoisted high up my back to avoid any backsplash. When the FOOSH of the toilet started, I relaxed my body and let gravity take over. But to my horror, a fart escaped! I was made!

My eyes widened and I was thankful that no one knew that it was me crouched in my semi-private world. Then the silent giggles started. My shoulders started to shake and I had to hold my mardi gras beads to keep them from tinkeling and giving me away. By this time the flushing had finished and I lost my opportunity to mask my offense.

I took a quick look under the stall to my right and recognized the shoes as those belonging to my co-worker. I decided I couldn't take the chance of another escaping noise or smell, so I waited it out.

Finally, as the bathroom door slowly closed on her exit I was alone to do what was required of me. Five pounds lighter, I washed my hands, fluffed my hair and re-entered the work floor carrying the secret of the Phantom Fart.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

thinking out loud

One of the perils of waking up early, especially when you live alone, is figuring out how to spend your waking hours.

Barry woke me up at 5:30 to pee, then again at 6:30 to eat and again at 7:30 to poop. There was no way to fall back asleep after that. We laid in bed together for a little while. I read my book and Barry stretched out on top of me, his little fuzz head resting on my chest with his expressive eyes looking brightly at me. "Are we going for a walk?", he seemed to say. Barry has these wonderful brown eyes that look as if they're rimmed with black eyeliner. I read a few chapters, I grew tired of laying in bed. The outside thermometer said 20 degrees. There would be no walk today.

For the next 20 minutes I entertained myself, and Barry, by playing hide and seek. He'srun downstairs and when I'd hear the click-clck-click of his toenals on the wood floor, I'd run and hide behind a door or a bed and wait for Barry to huff and puff around looking for me. I made such a fuss when he found me.

Now it's almost 9:00 and I'm making a mental list of the things I want to accomplish today. Get shelf brackets and hang shelves, check out the new library, dust. Sounds exciting. Maybe I'll go out to Starbucks just to sit among strangers and write in my journal while drinking hot chocolate. Maybe I'm becoming a recluse. I'm lonely, but don't want to be bothered trying to entertain friends.

My scuba classes are over until the first weekend of June where I take my open water dive for my final certification. My master's classes don't start until next week. It's cold outside and my psyche desperately needs the warmth of spring. Peter comes back tomorrow after a week in Cuba. I miss him less than I noticed him not being around. I wonder if that means that my optimism is fading. Or I'm getting used to him not being around.

I've been thinking about Peter a lot this week. More like I've across things that reminded me of him. I finished a book where the main character lives in Toronto, I went to see a movie that he had seen recently, I drove through Princeton, and he did send me an email from vacation where he said he missed me.

Oh, I feel so stale. I'm not doing nothing, but I don't feel as if I'm doing enough - with my life, that is. I'm just holding my breath for the next big adventure.

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Welcome to Seattle

West coast

Thursday, February 09, 2006


The words just haven't been finding their way out on to paper or on screen. I don't know why - it's not as if I have nothing to say. Lately, when I had something on my mind, it was directly related to my relationship with Peter and I'm comfortable enough with him to tell him, whether it be good or bad.

I'm in another of those moods where I'm not quite right. Where I just don't understand him, his indecisiveness, and my desire to be with him irregardless. But I don't want to talk about him today.

Let's talk about something else. Let's talk about my trip to Seattle this weekend.

Sam, my ex-roommate is heading there for work next week. She decided to extend her stay to include the weekend before so she can explore the city, and knowing that I have never been there before, she invited me to go. All I needed to do was get there. I bought my plane ticket within minutes of her giving me the information. I so need to get the hell out of here and get a change of scenery.

I bought a Seattle guide book and devoured it cover to cover. Some must sees are the Experience Music Project, Pike Place Market, funky Freemont and of course, the Space Needle. I don't make exact plans mapping out my entire weekend, but instead just have ideas and just let whatever happen happen. I find it much more exciting that way.

I also going for my Master's degree. I work in the training department doing administrative, reporting and logistic stuff - nothing too exciting. I see the courseware developers and instructional designers and think "I can do that!". So I signed up for online classes - my first one starts next month. My manager happened to see the brochure on my desk and asked me about it. It's a good thing he saw it too, because my co-worker got laid off a few days ago because of not enough work. We did the same job, but I'm convinced that I was the one who stayed because I'm taking the initiave to take classes in ID and teach myself some of the software to do the development. To my manager, having multi-talented employees is a huge deal, so I lucked out.

Finally, and this is the coolest part, I signed up for scuba lessons. I've been saying for years that I wanted to learn. A few weeks ago I just decided to look up the dive shops, price out the classes and enroll myself. I had my first pool session last week and I loved it! But I'm a very impatient student. I just want to DO IT, to skip past the learning process and just know how to do it right the first time. I already can't wait until my final open dive for certification. I want to glide around underwater among the tropical reefs and converse with the fishies. In my daydream, I look fantastic in a wetsuit, too. Ah well.

My final open dive will probably happen at the end of May in a lake in Pennsylvania. It will probably be cold, but I don't expect a carribbean trip happening before then. I will have to wait impatiently until then. However it does make a good arguement to arrange a tropical trip for my birthday to test my new underwater skill. I'll have to look into that...

In the meantime, I have an hour and a half to kill at work. Normally I'd chat with Peter, with my razor sharp wit and saucy innuendo, but I don't even feel like doing that. If he's not up to talking about what's going on with him, then why bother? I'm really not saying it in anger, but what else can I do? I'll most likely not listen to myself and give in to what my desires want me to do, but until then I'll be mopy and watch the clock until I suit up for the pool.