I went to work at the new job Monday morning. It's a HUGE financial services company.
I hate math.
The people there are nice, fun, and so, well, not at all what I thought bank people would be like. My commute is 30 to 45 minutes. I'm working in my third favorite neighborhood, and living in my most favorite neighborhood.
(Hm. If I could get my boyfriend to move to Astoria...)
I like to feel useful, and this department NEEDS me. So far, the project is just barely getting started, and already fascinating. They don't quite know what to do with me yet, but I'm reading lots of documentation, and sitting in on a meeting tomorrow AM. I'll probably wind up telling them how best to use me. I'm looking forward to the work.
Monday, I had lunch at my favorite diner, and calculated exactly how my finances will work with this salary. A little tighter than at the Siberian work camp... but not much. I scribbled on a napkin while I munched my tuna salad on whole wheat, with lettuce and tomato as fresh as spring. Big snappy pickle.
I am a voluptuary after all. Lunch is very important to me. Today, I had a sushi lunch box made up for me at a Japanese joint right underneath the Court Square train station. That place wasn't there three years ago.
The free coffee at the office is the worst I have ever had... thick, much too strong... a sensuous experience, with an illicit feel to it. As I held it velvety and bitter in my mouth, I imagined having sex in the supply closet. For a split-second, I missed the old job, where my boyfriend was slaving away at that moment.
One hour at a time, this week seems to be rolling along, and the grief over my country's fate and the world at large is finally draining out of me, squeezed out by the fresh clean flush of a new job, new colleagues, and the comfort of a familiar neighborhood and an easy, short commute. The tiny green park in the midst of a dirty, mean world. My life, one day of the week at a time.
My boyfriend's birthday was this weekend. We spent Saturday partying with friends, and Sunday snuggled on the couch, talking. Really talking. Politics, religion, family, and relationships. I finished my crying. We held each other, we both talked and we both listened. So much sharing, so much gratitude.
We have decided to continue exploring this relationship, and its potential. We are planning activities together to explore each other's faith, and I will be spending Thanksgiving with his family.
"So, I guess we're not gonna break up then," I said. "NO," he said.
Regardless of what we may or may not think we are ready for, we seem to be very deeply in love. As of Monday, we have been dating exactly one year. It is the longest I have dated anyone without breaking up, cheating on them, or getting engaged. There are a lot of new shades and vibrations to this relationship, for both of us. I'm walking. He's walking with me. It's different, it's scary, it's deep... and it's working.
Earlier today, my roommate sent me an email congratulating me on the new job. She's still not actually talking to me, but a nice email is a start.
Tonight, I am happy.