Sherilyn Connelly > Diary

8/18	/12
My Face for the World to See (Part II):
The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly
a fiction

last updated: 1/7 17:12 PT


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Monday, 7 January 2013 (in spite of nothing at all)

Met up with Ilene at Lyon-Martin to act as moral support for what was supposed to be her first appointment there, except that her doctor never showed up, so it had to be rescheduled for another day. Not the most heartening introduction to the low-budget health system, but a fairly accurate one.

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Sunday, 6 January 2013 (no more ruses)

Marta and I checked out the Sunset Gym this morning. I've been there before, many years ago, when it was the second location of the nearby gym on Vicente that I miss so much. It still feels nice and small and comfortable and low-pressure, and odds are I'll be largely left alone when I go there, which is all I really want. None of the weird baggage that I developed at the Y. (I just don't feel safe there anymore.) And it's only about a half mile farther away than the Y, so there's that, plus it's a few blocks from Marta's, and she may be joining as well so we can go together. That would be nice. Riding my bike just isn't doing it for me, and quite frankly, I'm just not trusting the drivers in my neighborhood. It's far too stressful. I'm always at my best when I can strap in, put in earphones, open a book, and just sweat.


We've got a full (if not especially thrilled-looking) houses for Snakes on a Plane at Bad Movie Night. We usually sell out this show, and then none of the people return for the rest of the year. I'd like to think it'll be different in 2013, but I know better. The important thing is that show continues, regardless of how many people come to see it.

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Saturday, 5 January 2013 (meaningless but arbitrary)

Looks like I will indeed have a small contingent from Bad Movie Night accompanying me to see the horrible movie next Saturday morning. Whew. Marta, though invited, has quite reasonably declined to join us. Instead, we've been watching good movies together these last few nights.

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Friday, 4 January 2013 (a very tired hamster)

Dropped Marta back off at her place this morning, and I've spent the majority of the day making some long-overdue fixes to The Dark Room's website. It's not the single most productive thing I could be doing, but at least I'm focused on something.

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Thursday, 3 January 2013 (one of the lesser forms)

Picked up Marta from the airport, and now we're having dinner at Old Mandarin Islamic, which is as good place to eat as any when you've been in Chicago for a month.

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Wednesday, 2 January 2013 (pitchshifted)

My editor has asked me to review a horrible-looking movie that isn't being screened for critics, so I'll have to go see it in theater. They'll reimburse my ticket, of course, but still, going to see a horrible movie in a regular movie theater sounds, well, horrible. But that's part of the job, and if I can gather a group of Bad Movie Night folks to join me, it may even be tolerable.


Just got out from seeing The Nice Lady. I feel like I'm already running out of things to say to her.

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Tuesday, 1 January 2013 (potential portents)

After a waffle breakfast with Pete and Sarah and their five year-old daughter, I'm heading back to Marta's place to spend the rest of the afternoon. (I won't feel safe being back at my apartment until this evening at the earliest, since my neighbors friends will probably stick around for most of the morning.) I'm having to wear my dopey aviator-style sunglasses that I keep in Phoebe's trunk as backup because I didn't bring my regular, non-dopey sunglasses, not having expected to spend the night out. Adventure!


Got some work done at Marta's place (helped her some over chat with getting her business website up, and I also discovered that the veggie platter at Park Gyros is more than acceptable for it price), and am now back home where it is acceptably quiet. The truth is, I've largely managed to figure out how to block out their noise and maintain my sanity the vast majority of the time, provided their dog isn't howling, but I just know that it's not worth the psychological stress of being around while they're partying with friends upstairs. Oh, Christians. They make such lousy neighbors.

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