On my way to Ft. Thomas, Kentucky
Back roads south to Cincinnati, avoiding the highway -- the corridor that gets gruesome coverage on most news updates: drunk drivers, people falling asleep at the wheel, construction mishaps.

For now, I'm living in Dayton. I was thinking about getting involved.

I could take evening classes from Sinclair Community College. The downtown campus is impressive; they have a ton of classes. I could take creative writing, or something that hones up a business skill, like ... statistics. EEK! For residents, tuition's cheap cheap cheap. Something like $25 per credit. If it's business related, BIPC will pick up part of the tab. Maybe I should milk that cow while I still can...!

I thought about DATV -- Dayton Public Access TV. This public broadcast station lets anyone get on air, if they've taken the classes on how to run the equipment. After you take the class, you sign up for a show. I might get a time slot at 4 a.m. on the last Wednesday of every month. Maybe big fun! I could unleash my peculiar brand of fire-breathing liberalism on the locals! (All one of them at 4 a.m.)

And I thought about the AIDS Volunteer stuff again. My closeted work friend Hushpuppy Darnitall gave me some inside scoop on the local group. They've been in transition, and could use some help. Plus, stats for AIDS are on the rise again; if anything, there's more of a need now that everyone thinks it's gone away. Maybe I can overcome my burnout from the late 80s and early 90s.

On the way back from Ft. Thomas, Kentucky
I was invited to a dinner at a swanky country club -- panelled walls, golf courses, and a view of Cincinnati's skyline in the distance. The dinner was a mixer for the folks associated with the film festival I helped with a few weeks back.

Although I've worked with a few fests, this one seems to have the most cash-flow -- wow, a paid dinner, flowing wine and prizes (A bottle of Venezuelan rum for me). A bit different from my days on the International Experimental Film Festival and the Lavendar Film Fest.

And if this was a mixer for the folks who had helped, I hadn't seen most of them when I was there. It was easy to mingle with the dozen or so folks there, and I met almost everyone. I don't know what the connection to film was, because almost no one seemed to have an interest in it. The conversation was more about their real-life careers, which was just as interesting. A few had non-profit jobs in housing redevelopment. (Have I mentioned that I have a degree in Historic Preservation?)

Driving back, I felt as if there was a haze just in front of my eyes. (No, it wasn't from the rum!) We're all to exchange e-mails. Two former employees (and attorneys who now work for themselves) of a large, multi-national personal care products corporation headquartered in Cincy invited me to an art opening. And, I'm supposed to chitty chat with the urban redevelopment folks.

In my own little way, I guess that was networking. Oh how I hate that word!

Back in Dayton, after 1 a.m., and my roomie has just come in. Hmm.... I'm on a role, let's try networking on him -- after all, I went to law school with his wife.

Me: So, roomie, I don't think I'm Outgoing enough to work in sales, but I've often wondered if there's something else I could contribute to that organization. What do you think?
Him: Well... {launches into longwinded account of sales structure and ending with} ...and then there's the training force.
Me: Training, why... yes. That does sound fascinating. (lie) Who would I talk to about that?
Him: So-and-so, do you know her?
Me: I've heard the name... (lie)
Him: Give her a call and mention my name. When [wifey] is in town we can talk more.
Me: That would be great -- thanks!

*sigh* I guess that wasn't so bad, was it?

The guillotine was busy today -- two more managers were eliminated. I understand the next round of layoffs is March 1st. KL, my long-time work friend, tells me Brenda's on that list. I am spared, so sayeth Boss. In the meantime, the two projects I was given last week are "on hold" pending "a clarification of locational responsibility". (Read: Until layoffs are complete.)

Thank you to those who wrote me during last week's entries about my work situation -- I very much appreciated it. Blogging has really helped.

Of last week's drama, Friday was the worst. Shortly after arriving at work, I heard angry voices, muffled, but loud enough to carry beyond the doors of the corner office. The rest of the building existed in an uneasy lull. All this was broken by a sudden mass of e-mails sent with red-exclamation-points, followed close on by a wave of ringing telephones. A meeting was hurriedly called -- then canceled. "Uh oh," I thought, like when you brace for the first pitch on a roller coaster, "here it comes."

But nothing happened.

The ride that day ended without incident. And when it had come to a complete stop, I thought to myself:

Friday night and the strip is hot!
After a week like that, I felt like putting a flirt on! (I knew it was just a matter of time!) I fired up the Civic and drove through dreary neighborhoods downtown.

Dayton has a handful of gay bars. (By comparison, Colorado Springs, where I lived prior to the tranfer here and with roughly the same population, has only one club.) Cor blimey, you'd think, Five bars. It must be heaven.

Uh... not so. Just as if I were 20 years old and making my way out for the "first time", I drove around considering Should I or Shouldn't I? I parked or walked past a couple of bars and saw that there were, at most, one or two folks inside. What I saw wasn't flirt-worthy -- sweat pants with elastic waists are not flirt-worthy. After an hour of indecision, I drove home and instead babbled on the phone with my ex-boyfriend DJ. A much better use of my time, I think. (Speaking of job security, he was fired last Thursday.)

On the way downtown, I passed an abandoned building with black graffiti sprayed across its storefront:

Rome didn't fall in one day.

Even though I've lived in Ohio a few years, I don't know much of Dayton's history. I believe there were settlements here by the 1790s, and it was on a canal route by the 1830s. Like many northern cities, Dayton's grand epoch began after the Civil War. The formation of the National Cash Register Corporation (now NCR) by John Patterson, really put Dayton on the map after the 1880s.


You bloggies probably know Dayton as the "birthplace of aviation". The Wright Brothers manufactured bicycles here before inventing the airplane. Charles Kettering, the inventor of the electric self-starter (which replaced hand-cranking on autos), lived here and formed DELCO (the Dayton Engineering Laboratories Company, if you want to be all technical). These roots run deep: I live off a boulevard named for the cash register king; and about 500 feet from a suburb named after the inventor.

Today, though, the city reminds me more of a juvenile delinquent. You drive around shabby streets shaking your head and thinking There is so much potential. It has a terrible public school system, one of the worst in Ohio. Anyone who has kids and cares doesn't live within the city. Do we spot a correlation here? Well, Rome didn't fall in one day.

And I thought the accurate saying was:

Rome wasn't built in a day.
It's good to have a project when you're stressed. One of my hobbies is fixing up old buildings, and last weekend I went at it full force.

My duplex was built in 1929 and was pretty beat up by the time I came by it a couple of years ago. The interior was decorated in "Cheap Rental Unit" that had seen better days.

In tearing out the present, it is always interesting to me to discover hints of the past. I like to imagine what it must have been like during construction. Who lived there and what was it like?

Last weekend's project was the Dining Room ceiling. It was beginning to fall, and I decided to pull it down. Balanced on the stepladder, I hammered away with the crowbar. I discovered at least three prior ceiling patch-ups, and the room was once painted mint green -- ugh.

It was a lathe ceiling; sentries of silent plaster worms held the ceiling in place between furring strips. As it came down, I marveled at how new and clean the studs and original knob-and-tube electrical wiring looked -- as I guess it would, being protected for 70 years.

It was good to accomplish something positive. And here it is, Monday again. Work again. I like this quote, which I've been repeating to myself today:

The world hates change, but it is the only thing that has brought progress. -- Charles Kettering.