Put the needle on the record. That's right. Now dance.

we find a rhythm, learn to move to it; after we've been doing it awhile, it's hard to switch beats.

i live by the things I've built my routines around: the same coffee at the same time, certain restaurants on certain nights, tivo settings, my treadmill, my seat, my parking spot.

but once the sudden sharp changes stop feeling scary, there's a certain freedom. saturdays aren't empty. they're mine.

not knowing what to expect, not having the safety of a routine, and not knowing what's next suddenly feels a little bit right.

if anyone is reading this, stay tuned. i'm inspired to upload photos from the road...next stop, sao paulo.

What it feels like for a girl

One of those days filled with thrills. little big things: clean hair. good music. folded clothes. an e-ticket for 27,000 miles; five flights, three airlines. a night flight tonight, with warm roasted nuts, my favorite seat on the plane, wine and, three-quarters of a throwaway movie before unfolding the blindfold and blanket for sleep filled with airplane dreams. A swim and fresh sushi in Sao Paulo. three days with the beautiful brazilian carolina, who has the world's greatest voice and walk. my first flight on the legendary singapore airlines. a return trip to the tiny "spa" in beijing, where, after too many airport and hotel room transfers, my feet will be carefully slid into a wooden bucket filled with hot water and chinese herbs to soak until nearly numb. and finally, an $18 one-hour foot and leg massage that will be a reset button on my vigor.

"I’m afraid I’ve fucked you up. I’m afraid you won’t be able to love ever again, I’m afraid you will doubt yourself because of this; I’m afraid you’ll never be the same again."

I. Times I felt/knew/was loved this week:

• my sister waking up at 2:23 in the am, feeling angry and frustrated with you. not for hurting me. For not getting that you were lucky. For overestimating you, for thinking you “got it” that you had a good thing and being so upset that she was wrong
• opening my mailbox at my new apartment and finding a package. a book. With this inscription: it keeps getting better. Read this, it’s you. I love you. Lin
• mom and dad, calling nightly to gently ask what I’m having for dinner. Not that they’re worried
• for that matter, mom and dad on a daily basis, at every turn
• aunt sally, emailing an open invitation for dinner in kenosha, complete with downhome food, hugs, love from grandma and cousin steve who you "wouldn't want to run into in an alley right now"
• tracey’s emails: recipes printed in pretty fonts, highlighting ingredients she knows I love and telling me about tv shows she thinks I should tivo
• melissa and kit giving me an orchid for my new office
• balancing travel and social events on my calendar, realizing I’m lucky as hell to travel the world and still know when I’m home, I’ll see Wicked on Wednesday, go out for Indian on Sunday

II. Times I felt strong this week:

• getting a pedicure in manhattan; having lotion massaged into my calves while poaching a wifi signal to send an email to Singapore
• arranging for an upgraded room in a Singapore hotel. Where I’ll spend a weekend alone, following a two-day itinerary I created for myself
• Opening this email: Hi! I hope you are well. The mothers and daughters research you did for us has evolved! The Council will be holding a press event to launch the the GirlTalk program on October 19th at 10:00 a.m. at the National Press Club in DC. We would love to have you at the event to answer/field questions regarding the research. Please check your calendar and let me know if you will be available to attend. I am sorry I could not give you more advance notice, but I only received the information today. Have a great weekend, I look forward to hearing from you (please say you can come!)
• kickboxing
• waking up alone and prancing to the bathroom in my underwear
• watching sex & the city and getting it
• thinking about online dating as funny, not sad
  

III. you’re right on one count: i’ll never be the same again. I’ll be better.

Wake me up when September Ends

You Motherfucker. I've been preparing for the awful day that would have been (still will be) our first wedding anniversary; feeling sick about its approach. what if i see a bride and her fleet walking out of a salon; all sweat pants and pretty hair. A bride and groom sparkling as they have their photos taken, stopping traffic and oblivious to everyone but each other? How am i going to block out flashes of that day and what will i do in place of spending it with you, rereading wedding cards and watching that stupid video we said we'd watch only on our anniversaries?

yeah. i know that'll be a rough day. i'm ready for it.

but i wasn't ready for the flood that came today, driving home from work, when i realized it was this day last year that i picked up my wedding dress.

drove to my flamboyant tailor on rush street, feeling like i almost belonged in the gold coast. the only time i ever had a facial, manicure, and new salon hair all at the same time. walking in to his exclusive upstairs loft to try on the dress one last time before taking it home. stepping out of the dressing room in my gown that he'd unraveled and restitched to fit me like silk skin, and his gasp. "marvelous." the gucci woman who slid in, wearing giant sunglasses and long nails, dripping with perfection who stopped her cell phone call to stare at me, declaring me "vintage glam"

i came home and unzipped the bag where my dress is carefully wrapped. it's still the same, one year later. timeless. i'd like to set it on fire. i'd like you to feel how much you've undone. i'd like to rewind all of this and not have wasted all those precious feelings on someone who didn't know how special they were.

I don't wanna be no man's woman. i've other work i want to get done.

Excerpt from today's email:
you don't have to be rude, jess. you don't have to ignore me. you are my wife until further notice. this is so typical of you, you're always so quick to make snap decisions. i'm sorry this is hard but once we get through it, just think how good we'll be. you're so frustrating but i can't stay mad at you. i luv u and you make me smile.

so once again, my husband has left me feeling completely turned off.

the hardest bits about splitting up have not been ones that make people cry in movies or even the things that we wrote our vows about. there are the things that, when retold, make other people crings: he was sleeping with someone else for months, lying a lot of the time. once caught, he didn't fall to his knees and he didn't ooze shame. in place of apologies and mistake ownership, he asked me to "sell myself" by reminding him what i bring to the table and really, what did i do to ensure that something like this didn't happen?

but what's worse is realizing all the ways i overestimated him. these weeks, while i swallowed tears every time i saw a couple with their heads bent over a menu, absently tracing lines on the just right spot of each others backs and woke up crying before even registering the absence of his hand cuffed at my hip, he was ordering pizza and playing video games; leaving me text messages about how this is surreal and isn't it like one of us went on a long trip but will be home soon? (oooh. isn't it like one of us pitched a tent in the backyard and is pretending to be on a camping trip in the woods?)

and now, he's looking forward to our reunion. the make up sex and the refreshing way we'll really appreciate those rituals after taking some time off. and i'm mourning the death of my desire for that, the sudden absence of satisfaction with what could have been my life

She ain't no golddigger....
or whatever that Kanye West song is called. It's catchy, despite my feeling that i really don't want to like him.

My husband thinks he doesn't need to feel bad for cheating on me and rescinding his 9-month new vow of lifetime commitment because, well, I've had a "free ride" since we've been together. he's paid credit card bills and my gym membership so he's pardoned from any sort of emotional abandonment.

if i'd have known that ever might be a tradeoff, i'd have taken a second job.

Just back from a run in a quadrant of the city that's new enough to be thrilling, to a playlist of 26 sinead o'conner songs. didn't even know there was a newspaper called the korean times but their offices are just a few blocks away and my new neighborhood starbucks is a friendly one. the barista knew people by name and there's a charge that comes with knowing i'll be around long enough for her to learn mine.

i've sweat enough this morning to accomplish two very important things:

inspiration to hang the shower curtain in this new and nearly never used bathroom (ah, permanence)

wash away the horrible moment of yesterday that followed me through dinner and sleep. here it is:

I. the nastiest and most demanding client ever known called my cell phone. twice. to demand something without a please or a thanks or a sorry to bother you. i, of course, assured her i was happy to hear from her and that no, no. it's no trouble. i'll get to that right away.

II. the nasty email written to a colleague, titled "need to vent" and proceeding to rip her to pieces

III. the realization, as i hit send, that i'd included her name in the address field

IV. the frantic recall message attempt, shaking like i do when i almost get in a car accident

V. her reply confirming that she did, indeed, get my note.
i should mention that i'm about to embark on three weeks of travel around the world with this woman. yesterday, that thought made me sick. this morning, i'm looking at it as my chance to start over, bond as i learn what kinds of foods she likes, how she moves through airports and what makes her laugh.

in some ways, it was a good crisis. for a little while, it actually eclipsed the larger thing that's been looming: my husband of 11 months cheated on me. While he decided he needed some time to figure out "why he did it" and "if we can save this" i decided to move out and he doesn't even know where i live.