bunt sign

February 12, 2000

The phone rang just four times this afternoon, but every one of those calls was from someone looking for the Boss, or looking for someone who makes financial decisions for the Company (same thing). Most of the time I don't regret allowing the Company to use my home phone number as its main business line, but then there are days like this, when I'm trying to keep my life separate from the daily drudgery. These are the days when these little irritations become a big pain.

My nephew David came by this afternoon, just to talk. It's always a kick to have him drop in, because he has no reluctance to share what's on his mind with me. At eighteen, he's wrestling with decisions about his future, and I'm happy to talk them through with him. Even if I don't have any sage advice or worthwhile suggestions, I think it's helpful to both of us to have an open relationship. He's a most interesting person and without him my life would be even more ordinary than it is.

He has a plan for his life, and he's old enough to start taking the steps he thinks are necessary to get him closer to his goal. But he's also young enough that he can afford to take a few wrong turns along the way, and yet still make it. In fact, I would be surprised if he didn't change course a few more times. He's never been one to stay with a plan that isn't working, and he no doubt has options he hasn't even considered yet. One thing I know about him is that even if he gets pushed down into the sand, he isn't going to stay there very long. Nothing is likely to shake his confidence or determination.

He also had some advice and encouragement for me in my search for a bigger place to live and work. I've been dragging my feet a bit, I know, using the recent work overload as an excuse. But I let myself get discouraged early on, when I wasn't finding anything in my price range that I thought would be better than what I already have. I know I have to get out of here, and I know I have to take the initiative and do it. There just always seems to be a gap between knowing what I have to do and following through. It's a poor excuse for the inertia that has kept me in a place I know isn't suitable, but it's the same social timidity that's put me where I am.

I saw Pedro Almodóvar's All About My Mother at the Rialto tonight. It's an entertaining, joyous film about one woman's journey through the middle part of her life. Sometimes she's running from something, and sometimes she's running toward something, but she always embraces the best in the people she meets along the way. In one scene she is in her apartment with an unemployed transvestite prostitute, an HIV-positive pregnant nun and a lesbian actress. It seems the most natural thing in the world that these women are all friends, laughing together and sharing their lives. They are connected by chance, but they are also united by the comfort and understanding they are willing to extend to one another. Their individual tragedies are mitigated by the companionship they find together. The film focuses on Cecilia Roth as Manuela, but Almodóvar shows us many amazingly subtle performances that belie any stereotypes. I expect this movie to be nominated for a foreign language Oscar next Tuesday morning.

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