There are shifts in every paradigm, even the most stable ones.

And amen for that, world.

Characters

Ross Henderson:  president of a major consulting firm; well dressed in a designer suit

Rosie Rosenberg:  seductive, gorgeous young lady who is a secretary

Setting

Mr. Henderson’s office; Ross is standing up near his chair, and Rosie is very near him.

Ross:  You’re such an idiot, Rosie.

Rosie:  (Pretends to look offended)

Ross:  Why the hell did you do it?

Rosie:  (Smiles slyly) Why not?

Ross:  You’re an asshole, Rosie.

Rosie:  Thanks gorgeous.

Ross:  You ruined everything you little bitch.

Rosie:  I don’t really appreciate the cursing.  It was an opportunity to be moral.

Ross:  Moral to who?

Rosie:  You, Chloe (muses for awhile) oh yeah, and me – in the long run at least.

Ross:  (Face turns red) You!? 

Rosie:  Uh huh.

Ross:  Since when has garnering yourself the title of total slut been moral?

Rosie:  Moral to who?

Ross:  You… slutface.

Rosie:  Jesus Christ, would you cool it.  I wasn’t that bad was I?

Ross:  (Musing) No you were great, until you ruined it.

Rosie:  I had to.  Enough was enough.

Ross:  Enough what?

Rosie:  Enough playing; enough cheating; enough of our little triangular game.

Ross:  She hates me now, Rosie.

Rosie:  Do you really blame her?

Ross:  Well…

Rosie:  No you don’t.  You’re just mad because now everyone knows.

Ross:  I just don’t see how you could do it?

Rosie:  Do what, turn you in or me?

Ross:  Me!  I mean, and you, duh.

Rosie:  Haha.  You were easy, baby.  As for me, I told you it was the moral thing to do.  (Waits a few moments) In the long run at least.

Ross:  I just don’t see how openly proclaiming yourself a slut is moral to yourself.

Rosie:  We’re going in circles.

Ross:  I loved her, Rosie.

Rosie:  Oh?

Ross:  I know it’s hard for you to believe, but…

Rosie:  (Smiles) And why would you possibly say that?

Ross:  Well, you know… you were…

Rosie:  (Interrupts) Giving you head twice a week.  I know.

Ross:  (Laughs a little) Yeah, you were pretty good.

Rosie:  We’re going in circles again.  (Smiles)

Ross:  (Moves a step towards her) So, umm… what’d she say when you told her?

Rosie:  (Twists mouth in a seductive way) She didn’t believe me at first, so I described to her the little tattoo on your – you know – and there’s no way I would have known that if I hadn’t been down there at least once.

Ross:  Rosie, are you fucking kidding me?

Rosie:  No.  Anyway, she started screaming and cursing you out, and then she started cursing me out, and then she slammed the phone and –

Ross:  (Interrupts) – and calls me to inform me that she wouldn’t be speaking to me again.

Rosie:  And then she told the entire firm about your “infidelity” and my sluttiness  and –

Ross:  (Interrupts) – and then got fired.

Rosie:  Exactly.

Ross:  Which, by the way…

Rosie:  (Interrupts) Oh yes, I’ve been meaning to ask you, are you planning on firing me?

Ross:  (Mouth drops open) Excuse me?

Rosie:  I asked if you are planning on firing me, because I’d like – well really I’d need – a few days to find another boss who is as tender at kissing as you are.

Ross:  (Moves one step closer and narrows his eyes) You know, I didn’t say you were definitely fired.

Rosie:  Well, I guess I just tacitly assumed I would be, given that I told the vice president of this firm who also just happened to be a woman who I’d heard you (the president) discuss marriage with, that for the last 3 months and 27 days you’ve been having a relationship with me, your lowly secretary.

Ross:  (Stares at her chest) Well, some things are forgivable, I suppose.

Rosie:  (Moves closer) I don’t know if you really should forgive me, Mr. Henderson.  Is that really moral to you?

Ross:  Aren’t we going in circles again?

Rosie:  (Unbuttons the first few buttons of her jacket) Yes, only it was me who said that before.

Ross:  Oh, right…

Rosie:  (Steps back) Do you miss her, Mr. Henderson?

Ross:  (Looks slightly entranced) I’m not sure anymore.

Rosie:  Oh?  That’s interesting.  I would have thought that you two were inseparable, except for our little games on the side.  By the way, did I ever tell you that it was very clever of you that night you had her give me those blue condoms.  I had run out, and I know how much you appreciate color.

Ross:  I knew you had run out.  (Swaggers a little)

Rosie:  And Chloe wasn’t the bit suspicious?

Ross:  She wasn’t.

Rosie:  (Shrugs) And Chloe was our former vice president?

Ross:  What does that have to do with anything?

Rosie:  Well, you know… I’d rather expected her to be, hmm, intelligent enough to realize that the man you’re dating shouldn’t be sending you on trips to give another woman condoms, especially when their his favorite blue ones.  And if he is, there’s probably something very wrong.

Ross:  You do have a point… a valid one, too.

Rosie:  Yeah.  You know, you really are a good kisser – all over, too.  (Moves forward)  So, Mr. Henderson, you must be feeling a huge loss right now.

Ross:  Yes, Rosie, I’ve lost a woman who I wanted to marry.  (Looks very uncomfortable)

Rosie:  How does it feel?  Do you have that huge pit in your stomach?  Does your heart feel like it’s reeking of sorrow?  Do you feel like you’ve lost all direction in your life?  Do you feel like your life forked off unexpectedly and now you don’t know what to do?  Are you going to make it, Mr. Henderson?

Ross:  Quite on the contrary, actually.  I feel free as a bird.  Had I married her, I would have been left with a constant feeling of guilt.

Rosie:  (Kisses him passionately on the lips) Do you feel guilty now, Mr. Henderson?

Ross:  No!  I don’t!  I’m free! (Looks up as if he has just discovered an eighth world wonder)

Rosie:  And don’t you agree that Chloe is better off knowing?

Ross:  Yes, of course she is (dreamily).  She, she… (Loses his train of thought and kisses her again).

Rosie:  So you’ll agree that I was quite moral?

Ross:  To her and me, yes I completely agree.  (Bows down slightly, looking stricken now that her lips have left his)

Rosie:  But what about me?  Aren’t I just the slut around here now?

Ross:  Don’t think of yourself like that.

Rosie:  But you said yourself that’s what I am.  No one’s going to dare to mock you, Mr. Henderson, Mr. President.  But me?  Little Rosie Rosenberg, a mere secretary in our big, important consulting firm.  Surely, Mr. Henderson, you acknowledge what I am talking about.

Ross:  Perhaps I can remedy that.

Rosie:  Oh really, and how do you propose to do that?

Ross:  (With striking grandeur and impulse) Marry me!

Rosie:  Mr. Henderson!  Did you say marry you?

Ross:  Yes, and I will make you Vice President as Chloe’s replacement.

Rosie:  Mr. Henderson!

Ross:  It’s Ross.

Rosie:  Ross!  I’ll marry you (waits a few moments) well, under that condition.

Ross:  (Kisses her for a few minutes)

Rosie:  Mr. Hender – I, I mean, Ross, you really are a good kisser, but you’re squashing me!

Ross:  (Kisses her again and then looks at his watch) I have to go; my four o’clock meeting is going to start soon.

Rosie:  What’s it on?

Ross:  Salary increases.

Rosie:  Ohh, shouldn’t I be involved now that I’ve been promoted from secretary to vice president?

Ross:  Absolutely.  You can come and get the gist of what meetings are like.

Ross and Rosie Exits

Two hours later

Ross:  Well, Rosie, I don’t know how you did it.  I was called away from the meeting, and when I got back I discovered you were getting $450,000 a year as a starting salary for a vice president.  I’m very impressed with your business skills.

Rosie:  Thanks Mr. Hen – Ross.

Rosie and Ross overhear a conversation of men who were at the meeting discussing the tattoo on Rosie’s left breast.

Ross:  What that –?  You tattooed your left breast?  What’s the good of that?

Rosie:  Well…

Ross:  You’re such an idiot, Rosie.

Rosie:  (Laughs silently behind Ross's back and rolls her eyes and whispers) Yup, obviously.

Ross and Rosie exit

You're right, In-kyung, what did happen to updating?  I'm not so sure.  I've never been able to keep a journal before.  This one isn't so different.  It's mostly just for leaving xanga-comments (and lab reminders... hehe).

I showed up, late afternoon on a sunday. You were sitting on the front porch with your head in your hands (my atlas).

"Take me somewhere".

I am sitting shotgun with my arm out the window to catch the salty air in the spaces between my fingers. You are gripping tightly to the steering wheel (white-knuckle driver), and I want to tell you that I trust you, because maybe then you'll let your shoulders drop down and let your eyes wander off the road so you can see what I'm pointing at (the little cottage at the side of the road we could live there and hang our clothes on the line and hold hands on the porch swing while the children played on the front lawn). Instead I put on a pair of sunglasses you had sitting in the glove compartment and stare at myself in the side mirror.

Past the sand dunes and the salt marshes; past the inlets and the bays; past the beaches that reach out to the ocean that reaches out to i n f i n i t y (and beyond). You drive past all of it, neither of us awaiting a destination. I just want to get away. You just need an excuse to get out of dinner dishes.

I tell you about everything on that drive. I tell you about everything and you never once look over at me or nod your head or comment, so I keep on talking. I tell you about the time i went to sleep away camp the summer before seventh grade and kissed a boy named greg or george (george or greg?) and then cried the next day when i found him kissing my bunk mate in the woods. I told you about my first impression of you (you cocked your head to the left a little to hear better, I think, when I did). I told you about wednesday night when I took my mother's pills, and about thursday morning when I woke up -- how I'd never been so releived to see the white of my bedroom ceiling and, yet, so dissapointed with myself because (once again, once again) I had failed. And you didn't say "look what you're doing to yourself." You didn't say "get yourself help." You kept your eyes on the road and said, I just hope you're happy. That made me smile, dear boy. Did you catch me smiling?

Every once in awhile, someone says something to you that glues itself to the bottom of your heart.  You try to forget about it, but it's imbedded deeply in your brain, and no matter what you do, it remains there, tickling your deepest thoughts, haunting your deepest emotions.  It sparks introspection... real introspection.  It questions old thoughts, old confidence.  It tests the limits of your self-perception, the boundaries of what you thought you knew about yourself, and even about life.  They say that those are the kind of things that hurt you, burn you, cut you into little pieces, but in the end just make you stronger.  If only we could emerge as better versions of ourselves firmly set in our own element, not pushed by the hurtful words of other's.....

Maybe one day I'll be able to say thank you and mean it.

On the Word Totally

For a long time the word totally was connoted with valley girl speech.  It was considered a ditzy word.  Let me give you an example:  "So like I'm totally into this new nail polish!" or "I'm so totally going tomorrow, just give me a call and I'll totally come."  An epitome of superficial, trite conversation, totally - as a separate entity - earned its own social stigma.  For some reason, at least by my observations, this has well, totally changed.

You still hear the word used frequently:
"I bought her this snow suit, and she was so cute because it totally engulfed her.  I mean, she wore the snow suit only two times in the entire winter, but you buy these things because it's just so totally... [dies off]"

"Yeah, I'm totally feeling better.  Hopefully I won't have to come back, totally... [dies off]"

etcetera etcetera.

The difference is that these sentences were said by particularly intelligent women in their early to mid 30's who resemble nothing close to valley girls.  Totally has lost some of the stigma attached to it.  One can now use totally and not be connected to superficial television shows or blonde bimbos on the beach (not to be stereotypical or anything).  Instead, totally has become one of those words that intelligent, relatively young people treat as chic, a testament to the fact that 34 is still young and vivacious.  Young and vivacious enough to be the age of the stereotypical valley girl, but without actually having to be a valley girl.

So yes, this might be a totally useless entry, but oh well.