not about work.
... well, okay, a little about work

i finished my first week. i survived. without going into details, i can say briefly that my biggest problem is going to be confidence. once in high skool i auditioned for an amateur production of a chorus line. when i called to hear the results, the director informed me he'd cast me as an understudy. "you're not confident enough for a real role," said he.

no matter how upset i might i have been about it, i couldn't deny he was right. my confidence goes in and out; it always has. there are times i can fake it with the best of them (ask anyone who's ever been inexplicably intimidated with me on first acquaintance) & there are times when i turn into jello pudding. on the other hand, i found it hilarious that considering my notorious ineptitude at dancing, my shortness, my not-svelteness, & all the other characteristics i have that you'd think would make me an undesirable candidate for musical theater -- particularly Chorus Line! -- what the director pointed to as my most glaring flaw was the confidence issue.

president w. comes to mind. the rnc went wild for him last night, as you probably know, if you watched, or read coverage, or were one of the hecklers who got dragged away by new york's finest. his delegates don't love him for his ability to dance rings around the other girls. without confidence, he'd still be ending up in the gutter with the other rejects. people love his certainty. as he himself said, you may not like him but at least you know where he stands. he stands where he stood and where he'll continue to stand for as long as we suffer fools in office gladly.

the point is, i need the confidence equivalent of "tits and ass." this is showbiz, kids. even in the office.

speaking of bush, my new office is right by two of the major hotels where delegates kicked back, secure in their secret service protection, and tried to forget they were in a sodom of jews, homos, activists, minorities, and other unsavories. a war of the buttons took place daily on the sidewalks as delegates proudly, desperately, displayed their W.! accessories and ny natives retorted, through their accessories, quiet disdain. it was fun to watch but i stayed out of the fray.

then, thursday i was eating lunch in an outdoor plaza and a delegate (complete with cowboy hat -- they seemed to come standard) started a conversation. his mother sat next to him, spilling things on her blouse and sometimes chiming in.

... him: so where are you from?
me: dc
his mother: she's from new york, of course.
him: no, mom, she's from washington.
his mother: ohhh. (clear implication: if there's any place worse than new york ...)
him: so what's your name?
me: ester.
him: that's a great name.
me: it's a little old-fashioned.
him: i like old-fashioned women.
his mother: [spills something on herself]

yowza.