Mom had an upper GI test done last week. The nurses told her to fast before the test, not even coffee for breakfast. Mom says she was so spaced out by the lack of caffeine that as she lay on the exam table, she looked down at her feet and realized she was wearing one brown shoe and one blue shoe.

I have made myself be productive at work this week, mostly to stave off boredom and an end-of-the-week paperwork disaster. I have a little sticky note on my desk, in cryptic notation, that says "JS group with J." Which translates as "job search group with Javier." It struck me as a grand idea last week, since both Javier and I are bored and sick of this job, that we should join forces to get new work.

This is a great plan. I've had similar plans before, in all kinds of areas. It's the follow-through that's killer. If I let myself not worry about money, conventional definitions of success, imagined parental expectations and my own vanity, I think I'd love to take some room-and-board job overseas. But really, my own lack of action to accomplish much of anything is glaringly pathetic.

Current crafty fixations: crocheted afghan, marble magnets, pad thai receipes, window treatments and ways to recycle cassette and VHS tapes.

I have no real actual crafty talents, but the obsessions and the long trips to craft, yarn and grocery stores seem to be fulfillment enough.

Still not sure whether I like blogger or live journal best. Am actually quite surprised that all coherent thought dissapears as soon as I try to type. Maybe will use this space to respond to writing prompts?

So this is what's worrying me today. I went on a date last Saturday and I didn't even know it.

A guy I've known for about a year, in an organized way really since we're in the same drum group, asked me to his house for dinner and a play afterwards. I've gone out several times in a group context with him, and because he recently has spent some time showing off his new house, I thought "well, this is what it appears to be on the surface -- a man who wants to practice some home cooking and enjoy the company of a like-minded friend." OK, I'd be lying if I said the thought "date" didn't skitter across my mind, but I dismissed it because, after all, I really haven't gotten any vibes from the guy, I'm not attracted to him, and mostly, because I'm self-centered and my mind moved on to more enjoyable, navel-gazing activities.

But then halfway through dinner, I began to get the feeling that we were talking at cross-purposes. Like we were both expereincing the same evening, but from completely different persepectives.

So I did some canvassing today among mutal friends, and the verdict is that I was on a date, and everyone but me knew it. And now looking back on the last several months, I'm wondering if I haven't been misinterpreting lots of other interactions. If I haven't, in fact, led this guy on, no matter how unknowingly.

The thing is, I'm not sure I can manufacture interest in this guy. But either way, I feel bad, because I think I'm going to have to hurt his feelings and be the cause of some insecurity on his part. And my own density and insensitivity has led me here. So I'm thinking this is my fault, though mostly it's a pain in my well-ordered ass.

At samba class yesterday I was in a rare, joyous mood. Near to bursting with energy and coordination. Almost euphoric, and I don't know why or where this mood descended from. It had dissapated by the time class was over. But for about an hour I was so pleased to be me, to inhabit this body. I wish I could trace the source of that feeling and recreate it at will.

This is my private blog. What I am doing here is narrating my self, untangling my voice, creating clarity. I am plotting out the arc of my trajectory.