w o r k s & d a y s * * Certain gardens are described as retreats when they are really attacks

I like my tea strong: either one tea bag in a small cup (I have a collection of child-sized cups in Portland for this purpose) or two tea bags in a normal-sized cup. My parents mostly have larger cups so I use two tea bags. When my mother noticed that I was using two tea bags per cup, she first hinted that I shouldn't do that, then began thinking of reasons. "It's expensive!" But not really, because otherwise I would just have another cup of tea. "Can't you just let the tea soak longer?" No, then it gets bitter. Finally the truth came out: "It's so... decadent!"

She likes weak, decaf green tea, unadorned. I like strong black tea with milk and sugar.

Tonight, we were watching a long Russian film a friend of mine recommended. The "plot" was not completely apparent, but my mother commented, "I'm not sure what's going on, but I don't care, because it's so beautiful!"

I have been turning that over in my mind, as a sort of metaphor for life.

I went out to look for jobs today, but after three places told me they were hiring, but to apply online, I came home and got out of the cold (it was 4 degrees according to the radio). I applied online at a local coffee chain. They wanted me to list my previous employment, I started with "English teacher". City -- Krabi. Country -- Thailand. I clicked "enter". It said I had to choose a state. I could not complete the application without choosing a state. I chose Alabama randomly, because it was first on the list. Alabama, Thailand.

I listed petitioning, 2003-2006, Sacramento, and gave Eileen as a reference. She is a wonderful old lady who I worked for, through Brian, during most of that time. Then there were all these other jobs in between, in other states, during the same years. Canvassing for the 04 election in Portland. The bookstore. The cafe. Reed alumni reunions. For almost every job, I listed "changed location" or "seasonal" as my reason for leaving. Then there was the bakery in Portland, which I loved. I didn't go back as far as the Reed slide library or delivering sandwiches on my bicycle in downtown Minneapolis, making bagels, or that grocery store.

You might be wondering what happened with the Thai restaurant. Well, he loved my drawing, but when I eventually mentioned pay ($10 an hour), he claimed he could make the thing himself, and pulled out a roll of tin that he had cut in his living room, a very crappy version of what I was trying to do. Then he wanted my help with a bunch of stuff, but I couldn't even get him to say he'd pay me... so I left. I guess it was too good to be true. The story is longer, but I've already told it to a bunch of people, and it just makes me angry.

here is the latest from Becky and Donna:

me: hey, guess what, s. is pregnant, and getting divorced! guess i'm not the only one.
DAB: you're pregnant?? :)
me: no, thank god. actually i knew she was pregnant, but not that she was leaving her husband. sounds like she's fine, though.
DAB: yeah. i can't imagine ever having a baby, especially alone. fuck, i can barely brush my teeth alone. but she seems ok, from the recent entry.
...
me: yeah. well i guess i'm not the only one to run away from someone to my parents house. i guess it's not really that bad.
DAB: no, it's really not that bad. i'm slightly envious.
me: hmm
you know, things would really be easier if i didn't write about them all the time.
or if no one ever commented
you know?
DAB: in your diary? yes.
i think so.
i could not deal with the level of criticism you do.
me: cause i don't really judge myself, and you don't, and my parents are mostly ok.
i already know brian sucks, so i don't care about what he thinks, and my other friends are fine as well.
DAB: i'm as hard on myself as you are, and i barely even talk to my friends, let alone write anything potentially embarrassing or controversial. and i know i prefer it.
me: there, i deleted the guestbook
DAB: very good.