I wish Bellingham could be everything that Federal Way is right now. Sunny, comforting.. home. Maybe a car and a job would do that. Maybe local friends and the history of many years and the knowledge of locations. Of all the things I love about Bellingham, I don't love enough. I don't know where to go on a sunny Monday afternoon (Steel Lake, Dumas Bay, Dash Point) or things like how that one house has always had a fake plastic horse in its front yard, and how that other house goes completely buck-wild with Christmas lights.
Either way. I'll never pick Federal Way over Bellingham. I'll come home every now and then, summer won't be as bad as I thought it might be, and Bellingham will either become my new home, or I'll go somewhere else.
Work is my comfort place while I'm home. I can go to the Federal Way Pool, and like Ryan, sit around all day. I can swim laps any time I want, talk to Michelle or Bryce, answer the phone and joke with the kids from the high school on the other side of the parking lot.
Alright. Time for the story to begin. I don't think I'm going to do it justice -- too many days have gone by, my frame of mind has done a complete 180, and I just don't know what to think of it all. Last Wednesday I met up with Greg at Bay Street. He reminded me of Jon, in a way that even I can't explain. Maybe I'm just looking for a Jon in my life now. We talked family and jobs and music and books and movies. We went to a "museum" of hands-on interactive technologically interesting exhibits. It reminded me of the Science Center, only geared to older people. I have to say, I was disappointed there wasn't a bubble curtain. Either way, it was a fun little afternoon, though the girls back at the dorm put a lot more hype to it than they should've. (Julia sat and waiting for 3 hours for me to get back. It scared me.) So the reaction goes like this: I like Greg. He's nice and intelligent and perhaps if we hang out again, we'll find some sort of common ground that we can sit and make fun of other people about. That was how it began with Tom and I, you know. Making fun of people at the pool. Anyway, I'm hoping we can get to be pretty good friends. Hate to get back to this catchphrase again, but I want to meet new people. Make new friends. And he's new people, a new friend.
The result of this friend revelation, was, naturally, that things are not over between RJ and I. At all. I guess that was obvious. Our continuing 2-hour phone conversations every night. My reminiscing about summer and the times we drove to Bothell looking for my fisherman's pond. We have another summer heading our way, and I want to spend it with him.
It was a good decision. We're still completely incapable of pulling off a real date. Friday, we watched a rented movie - Mirror Mask - with mixed drinks made of leftover alcohol, fresh fruit, and Dog and Tom sitting with me on the couch while he was alone on the chair. We're both awkward with the idea of each other's parents now - I swear his mom looks at me funny, and he won't even come in my house. There's a lot we need to get through still, but we'll do it.
As for Tom and Chanel! Well, there's not a whole lot of news about them. Tom's hair is still shockingly beautiful, I've learned more about him in the last few days than I did all last summer, and he's thinking about visiting me during his Spring Break! While waiting for RJ at the pool hall, this was his Quote: "No matter what happens between you two, I'm still the guy who took you to Prom. Don't you forget it!" Chanel, well, I haven't seen her yet. I'm debating if I should see her today, or take this lovely opportunity of a day to drive up to Seattle. We'll see.
Finally. And right now, the most important. Anyone who has listened to me babble about books has eventually heard this from me. I've probably written it up here before. But Third Eye Blind is my favorite band. In one of their songs they claim, "I read dead Russian writers, volumes at a time." Ever since I heard it, I've been inspired to read the Russian classics. Anna Karenina scared me -- far too long, far too much talk about expenses and social theories. But since I've started reading Doctor Zhivago, I've become hooked. It's not one of those books that you can't put down, have to stay up all night reading. Sometimes I don't like those books - they're over too fast, and because of that I feel that there isn't enough content, enough new ideas that make you sit and think and go "hmm...". I like the "hmm..." factor. Doctor Zhivago has that. The Doctor has been able to explain my religious beliefs better than I've ever been able to grasp -- I don't want to get into religious preaching, so read the book. Within the first 100 pages you'll know exactly how I feel about God and formal religion. So there's your "hmm..." factor. Then there's the pure excitement. The women shooting ex-lovers, husbands joining the war as their only escape from their wives, and said wives becoming nurses to go find their husbands when they go missing. All within the first 100 pages! Ahh... Russian love.