Last week was spent at an amazing ranch in Wyoming, where I rode horses, drove cattle, and played cowboy.
But I'll begin at the end of the trip, because that's what is making my hands shake and stomach sick.
After getting home after a late flight and a long and windy ride with a confused cabbie, I ran to check my e-mail. I hadn't touched a computer since before the trip, and I was chomping at the bit for some kind of 21st century communication.
I noticed an e-mail from the ex. I wasn't expecting this:
"I hope your trip is going well or went well depending on when you get this
I want to let you know that over the weekend 8/10 I got engaged its not a
joke and I'm sure it quite a surprise still is for me also
I wanted to tell you myself and not have you find out from Kate or another
source which would be a rather lousy way to find out"
For a split second, I wanted to give all the career success away, and just have someone to be happy with. I didn't cry. I had a laugh with my roommates about it all, and poked some fun at the girl I know nothing about. But it stayed with me through the night, and sleep proved impossible. The iPod this morning spent half the commute this morning jolting me awake from the jet-lagged haze and the other half creating tears that welled up in my eyes.
The worst part about it is that for once, he was honest. He told me upfront and directly about something significant - something he never did while we were dating. He's the person I always wanted him to be, only now he is with someone else.
I don't want him anymore. I haven't wanted him for a long time. But all of a sudden, I am back to square one.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Dysfunctional
I have ten drafts wating to post. All ten are three-quarters of the way done. Kind of like everything else in my life lately-not quite complete.
I have become one of those people that I hate - those people that say they never have 'time'. I hope there is a day when my job won't feel so overwhelming, and a day when I stop obsessing over insignificant details to the point of exhaustion.
But I'm just so tired. And I feel like maybe I wasn't that far off when I said in a previous post that I think the stability is killing my creativity.
Have I really become one of those people that needs something to go wrong to feel a rush of creative energy?
I have become one of those people that I hate - those people that say they never have 'time'. I hope there is a day when my job won't feel so overwhelming, and a day when I stop obsessing over insignificant details to the point of exhaustion.
But I'm just so tired. And I feel like maybe I wasn't that far off when I said in a previous post that I think the stability is killing my creativity.
Have I really become one of those people that needs something to go wrong to feel a rush of creative energy?
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Better Late Than Never
Ok, a brief disclaimer: This was written exactly two months ago, when I was still fresh and new at the AP (you know, the time before you feel like you're allowed to check your personal e-mail?) Anyway, I felt the need to share. Enjoy.
April 27, 2007
I went to a going away party for one of the business editors tonight. A going away party for a person I hadn't talked to, except for when we were introduced.
"This is Samantha, she comes to us from a fashion publication," my trainer said to him on my first day at the AP, with the inflection of a gate monitor at the Magic Kingdom.
His eyes rolled off to the side with what I thought was judgment.
Fashion. Why did she have to tell people? Of anything, anywhere, is there anything that could make these people take me less seriously than that?
Of course, after she said it to every one of those 40 people in my division, I wanted to crawl in a cave and die, or at least wave a white flag. I can't handle this. It's too much, too big, too intense. The confidence I had was gone now, hidden behind a nervous smile as I asked:
"I'm sorry, what was your name again?"
But the days have gone by, and through every 8 hours more questions arise, and more instructions roll through my head about how I am supposed to act. I am laughing more though. And smiling more. Feeling like myself again.
These people, my co-workers, are ridiculously nice. Coming over to my desk, one hand gently on my back, the other guiding the mouse where it is supposed to go. Instant messages blink on my computer screen from editors "just making sure I'm ok."
"Just a note to say you are doing great. It will get better and easier eventually, I promise. Take a deep breath. Hope you are having a good day."
"Samantha, how are you? I want to assign you this mover (a story about a significant stock move) -- have you done this before? Wanna take a crack at it?"
The most dramatic time in my short lived career at the AP happened when the editor I was assigned to called me over for some personal instruction. That day had been a tough one - I was on my own for the first time, with computer programs I barely knew and numbers of which I did not know the relevance.
He called me over like you would call a dog to jump in the car to go to the vet. His body stiff, I knew I was in for something. And whatever it was, it didn't seem good. Not good at all.
I lined up behind him like a child waiting to be punished. He put his fingertips together and then lifted his hands to his face. Deep breaths in and out; I watched as he contemplated his next move. I let my own eyes close gently as I let the breath out of my lungs; the calm before the inevitable storm.
His silence made me even more afraid of what he would think of this first big centerpiece story. But as I was leaning in to hear if he had any edits for me, he threw his head back and slammed his hands on the desk.
"That's what I'm talking about!" he shouts. Uh-oh. What did I do?
He says is again. I am terrified. Not only am I going to get yelled at but it's going to be loud.
"Samantha, this is great. Really great. Jesus, when you write your first book, can I have a free copy?"
Note to self: Confidence helps ease the fears of being killed by my boss.
April 27, 2007
I went to a going away party for one of the business editors tonight. A going away party for a person I hadn't talked to, except for when we were introduced.
"This is Samantha, she comes to us from a fashion publication," my trainer said to him on my first day at the AP, with the inflection of a gate monitor at the Magic Kingdom.
His eyes rolled off to the side with what I thought was judgment.
Fashion. Why did she have to tell people? Of anything, anywhere, is there anything that could make these people take me less seriously than that?
Of course, after she said it to every one of those 40 people in my division, I wanted to crawl in a cave and die, or at least wave a white flag. I can't handle this. It's too much, too big, too intense. The confidence I had was gone now, hidden behind a nervous smile as I asked:
"I'm sorry, what was your name again?"
But the days have gone by, and through every 8 hours more questions arise, and more instructions roll through my head about how I am supposed to act. I am laughing more though. And smiling more. Feeling like myself again.
These people, my co-workers, are ridiculously nice. Coming over to my desk, one hand gently on my back, the other guiding the mouse where it is supposed to go. Instant messages blink on my computer screen from editors "just making sure I'm ok."
"Just a note to say you are doing great. It will get better and easier eventually, I promise. Take a deep breath. Hope you are having a good day."
"Samantha, how are you? I want to assign you this mover (a story about a significant stock move) -- have you done this before? Wanna take a crack at it?"
The most dramatic time in my short lived career at the AP happened when the editor I was assigned to called me over for some personal instruction. That day had been a tough one - I was on my own for the first time, with computer programs I barely knew and numbers of which I did not know the relevance.
He called me over like you would call a dog to jump in the car to go to the vet. His body stiff, I knew I was in for something. And whatever it was, it didn't seem good. Not good at all.
I lined up behind him like a child waiting to be punished. He put his fingertips together and then lifted his hands to his face. Deep breaths in and out; I watched as he contemplated his next move. I let my own eyes close gently as I let the breath out of my lungs; the calm before the inevitable storm.
His silence made me even more afraid of what he would think of this first big centerpiece story. But as I was leaning in to hear if he had any edits for me, he threw his head back and slammed his hands on the desk.
"That's what I'm talking about!" he shouts. Uh-oh. What did I do?
He says is again. I am terrified. Not only am I going to get yelled at but it's going to be loud.
"Samantha, this is great. Really great. Jesus, when you write your first book, can I have a free copy?"
Note to self: Confidence helps ease the fears of being killed by my boss.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Summer in the City
It's summer in New York today- the sun is bright and parties have spilled out onto the streets. My block is bursting with Latin sounds and the smell of grilling meat and the smoke of firecrackers.
I can't help but think that this is a new beginning for me...as the new job is starting to feel like routine and my life is opening up with new possibilities. Some things have stayed the same, although I have a fear that with every thing new and exciting comes something from my old life being pushed out.
There are friends I haven't talked to in ages that I wonder about. My best friend is getting married in a few short months and yet phone calls to her have gone unreturned. I haven't talked to her since she announced the engagement, and I miss the sound of her voice.
I no longer have the security of the ex's voice on the phone, although gruff and unemotional most of the time, was still a way I pushed through the loneliness.
I haven't talked to my sister since I came back to the city from a visit over a month and a half ago. I am partly to blame--I think the sadness I felt at the old job was more serious than I knew at the time. A depression, possibly, although I don't want to admit it. I feel a bit of a cloud over my life now even though everything at work is what I imagined it to be, and my social life is starting to pick up again.
Everything is how I have planned it for so long, but my head is spinning. I can't slow down the days enough to get my breath and I feel I am leaving some very important pieces of myself behind.
I can't help but think that this is a new beginning for me...as the new job is starting to feel like routine and my life is opening up with new possibilities. Some things have stayed the same, although I have a fear that with every thing new and exciting comes something from my old life being pushed out.
There are friends I haven't talked to in ages that I wonder about. My best friend is getting married in a few short months and yet phone calls to her have gone unreturned. I haven't talked to her since she announced the engagement, and I miss the sound of her voice.
I no longer have the security of the ex's voice on the phone, although gruff and unemotional most of the time, was still a way I pushed through the loneliness.
I haven't talked to my sister since I came back to the city from a visit over a month and a half ago. I am partly to blame--I think the sadness I felt at the old job was more serious than I knew at the time. A depression, possibly, although I don't want to admit it. I feel a bit of a cloud over my life now even though everything at work is what I imagined it to be, and my social life is starting to pick up again.
Everything is how I have planned it for so long, but my head is spinning. I can't slow down the days enough to get my breath and I feel I am leaving some very important pieces of myself behind.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Insider Trading Tip of the Day
Sell your shares in Microsoft. Bill Gates did. See my story:
http://biz.yahoo.com/ap/070510/microsoft_insider_transactions.html?.v=1
* Note and disclaimer: I actually know nothing about finance.
http://biz.yahoo.com/ap/070510
* Note and disclaimer: I actually know nothing about finance.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Long-Awaited Milestone
It hit me on Saturday very unexpectedly: I think I am over "The Relationship."
He is back in the town where we went to college; I am here. We have plenty of miles between us, and plenty of reasons to move on, but somehow I thought it would never happen.
We both held on like we were nothing without the other, even if things between us had changed beyond recognition. He met someone a week after I moved out. He moved in with her four months later. Every part of that, even though he never spoke of her directly to me, crushed what little bit of hope I had for a reconciliation.
But I still held on, for some reason: fear of not finding someone better, fear of moving to an overwhelming and unfamiliar place, and fear of losing the one person with whom I shared a huge piece of history.
After more time passed, and after hearing from other friends about how how his new relationship was getting more serious, I tried to pull away. I stopped initiating conversations, I stopped finding reasons to send a text message or e-mail. But he kept calling, and I kept picking up.
That about sums up the last two years. Whether he realized it or not, he was pulling the strings. And I let him for a million different reasons. That relationship, the one after me, ending in cheating. The day after he moved in with her, I later found out, he read her diary and found out she had slept with a married man. Any sympathy I could possibly offer was completely overshadowed by the feeling that this situation was the best kind of karma - I felt like he fell in love with a girl that dished back everything he ever did to me. But the satisfaction came way too late.
Everyone that knows the two of us, and how long it has been since we were happy together, would undoubtedly roll their eyes at my admission that I now feel "over it." Should have made a clean break. Should have never given him so many chances. Should have never continued a friendship. Should have left it alone, and moved on. Should have never taken this much time to get over it.
So now I have finally caught up to everyone else who was begging me to leave it alone. I am even pushing to finish this blog even though I just got an e-mail from him:
"i was cleaning up my computer and found some of these pics from your rowing banquet - not sure if you had them or not
hope things at the new job are going well
I head home on friday for jenas graduation..."
And just like that, its done.
Of course my mom snapped last night when I said this, and rightly so. Its far from 'just like that' - it has taken so much out of us, it has taken me to a place where I thought I would never trust again, and I still am in a place where I am terrified of being alone.
But this correspondence feels enough like the final ties being cut that I am thinking, sigh, its finally over.
He is back in the town where we went to college; I am here. We have plenty of miles between us, and plenty of reasons to move on, but somehow I thought it would never happen.
We both held on like we were nothing without the other, even if things between us had changed beyond recognition. He met someone a week after I moved out. He moved in with her four months later. Every part of that, even though he never spoke of her directly to me, crushed what little bit of hope I had for a reconciliation.
But I still held on, for some reason: fear of not finding someone better, fear of moving to an overwhelming and unfamiliar place, and fear of losing the one person with whom I shared a huge piece of history.
After more time passed, and after hearing from other friends about how how his new relationship was getting more serious, I tried to pull away. I stopped initiating conversations, I stopped finding reasons to send a text message or e-mail. But he kept calling, and I kept picking up.
That about sums up the last two years. Whether he realized it or not, he was pulling the strings. And I let him for a million different reasons. That relationship, the one after me, ending in cheating. The day after he moved in with her, I later found out, he read her diary and found out she had slept with a married man. Any sympathy I could possibly offer was completely overshadowed by the feeling that this situation was the best kind of karma - I felt like he fell in love with a girl that dished back everything he ever did to me. But the satisfaction came way too late.
Everyone that knows the two of us, and how long it has been since we were happy together, would undoubtedly roll their eyes at my admission that I now feel "over it." Should have made a clean break. Should have never given him so many chances. Should have never continued a friendship. Should have left it alone, and moved on. Should have never taken this much time to get over it.
So now I have finally caught up to everyone else who was begging me to leave it alone. I am even pushing to finish this blog even though I just got an e-mail from him:
"i was cleaning up my computer and found some of these pics from your rowing banquet - not sure if you had them or not
hope things at the new job are going well
I head home on friday for jenas graduation..."
And just like that, its done.
Of course my mom snapped last night when I said this, and rightly so. Its far from 'just like that' - it has taken so much out of us, it has taken me to a place where I thought I would never trust again, and I still am in a place where I am terrified of being alone.
But this correspondence feels enough like the final ties being cut that I am thinking, sigh, its finally over.
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