Current Events

Sometimes I like to catch up on the most obvious forms of corruption and deceit in our country. When the mood strikes, I turn to Don't Tase Me, Bro. Often, and tonight is no exception, by the time I reach the fifth or sixth entry, I'm ready to puke, hide my head under my pillow, or attempt to erase the entire reading from my mind. It's a challenge to confront those feelings, recognize what they say about my country, and try to reevaluate my opinions. While the experience is never enjoyable, I keep the website readily available. Reading about these dealings is the only way I can claim to be educated and informed. I can't back up my side of an argument without evidence, no matter how sick I may feel about researching it.

Passing Judgement

I'm officially declaring this summer as the #2 Best Summer of My Life So Far. With time, I might re-rank it up to #1, but I'll need some perspective first. I've managed to completely avoid stress, emotional instability, and severe boredom. In fact, even if it's a day spent sin human interaction, I'm still getting out and exploring the area and plowing through books. Basically, it's just been entirely relaxing, a time for me to fill up on good memories and warm sun and lack of responsibility before I go off and kill myself over the stress of living in a foreign country and not knowing the language.

Since I'm leaving Bellingham a week from today, I'm trying to pack in as much time with Irene as I can. We went out for drinks and fries yesterday, then finished off the night watching The Neverending Story. Today we spread a blanket and read books in the sun, baked a cake, found Super Mario's Taco Truck, and best of all, we raided her boyfriend's record collection and made ourselves a pile of old classic rock/blue grass/ country music to listen to. Right now Jethro Tull is showing off his fluting skills, earlier Bob Seger was telling me how I'm still the same, and up next Dolly Parten, EmmyLou Harris, and Linda Ronstadt are going to step up to the mic.

Transitioning

Very, very soon, this is going to turn into my travel blog. Traveblog? A little less than a month from now, I'll be in Guadalajara! Four months of living abroad! Okay, I know I'll get homesick and feel out of place and I might even be disappointed in it all, but right now, four months seems far too short.

To prep for my going-away, I packed up (some of) my suitcase. I think I'll be able to fit everything, but I also haven't done the real deal so who knows what I'll try to jam in at the last minute? The shoe corner is steadily morphing into a shoe layer, and..

.. and I just watched my neighbor across the street walk around her living room in her underwear. I feel like such a perv, except I put on the same show most nights of the week. Not tonight, though. In response to an achy sore throat and stiff muscles from all that swimming yesterday, I've curled up in my favorite rowing sweatshirt with a nostalgic Latin American novel written by Isabel Allende.

Anyway, Mexico. Coming up. Very nervous, very excited, kind of afraid to talk about it with people because it is just so BIG. and IMPORTANT. And I'm leaving so many people/ things/ relationships behind, I don't want to think about it all having an expiration date.

Home Sweet Home

Well! Being back in the Federal Way has been very, very nice. While I'm disappointed that Chanel never returned my calls (we're pushing over 6 months since our last visit), I've been on really good terms with Scott this time around. No fighting, no snarking, no yelling... The days when we can have a decent conversation, let alone tell jokes and hang out, are few and far between. Instead, we spent a few hours playing with my laptop's webcam, talked about books, and took Mom out to see Wall-E.

The other piece of even mildly interesting activity down here was the shopping trip Dad and I took to Fred Meyer. We spent a good 45 minutes dragging suitcases up and down the aisles, fiddling with handles, kicking sidings, checking seams, and of course comparing prices. I'm pretty sure I can fit and zip myself up inside the thing. Hooray!

Long Hot Summer

Coming home from work just a short while ago, I didn't take time to wonder what I would do with the evening. After a 30+ bike ride in the glaring sun during the hottest hours of the day, followed by four looong hours at a too-loud workplace, I was in no position to question my instincts. I simply acted on autopilot.

That's how I've come to find myself laying in a pile of nearly every blanket I own, head propped up by pillows, laptop resting on my knees, drinking a beer and preparing to watch Dexter until I fall asleep.

Finally!

After yesterday's woodland adventure, I've had an insatiable craving to get outside again and be on the move. Luckily for me, I moved my bike into the living room and pumped up the tires a few days ago.
So post-work, I took to the roads and did the warm-up loop from last year. You know, around through Fairhaven, along State, downtown and back again. I continued on down Old Fairhaven until I hit 32nd, then detoured for a glass or two of wine from one of my favorite redheads. It felt great to be moving, exercising old muscles, flying down streets on my little red road bike, and eventually climbing off and finding my legs shaking from the exertion.
I think tomorrow I'll run a mile or two on the track. What better time than now to rekindle my old loves?

Day Off (Sort Of)

Since I don't work until 5, and dumb Irene works until 5, I found myself with an empty afternoon. I took the time to finally clean the apartment, and after two hours of scrubbing and vacuuming and dusting and rearranging, guess what? I know it's clean, but nobody else would be able to tell.

We wrecked this place this year. Oops.

Home Comfort

Brent got a Wii about a month ago and never told me. (Granted, we don't see each other as much as last year.) He brought it home with him this weekend, though, and it's been mad fun playing it on our parents' giant plasma tv.

Right now is really adorable. We're behaving just like we did in high school. I'm on the couch with a book, Brent's doing his video game thing, and there's a laptop with a walkthrough set up for me to read to him when he gets stuck.

Before I Sleep

Fuck bitch shit. The calf is still knotted up and twisted and painful. I take hop skips to get started after standing up.

Went and saw Hulk with my brothers and dad tonight. Great movie? Terrible? Hard to decide. It was definitely entertaining, but not something that will stick with me for very long. Can you believe they all thought Hulk was terrific and Indiana Jones was hokey? I can't. I love the men in my family, but we obviously appreciate completely different things from our movies.

My dad and I had a late-night argument/discussion about our political beliefs, values, and the choices he made that led him to where he is now. I'm walking away from the conversation feeling torn. He was young and idealistic once, just like me. But he had kids and settled and picked the easier route and essentially walled himself up in the middle class suburban lifestyle so I could be raised happy, healthy, and protected. He did a great job. Any complaints I have about my childhood or the way my parents raised me are simply comments coming from the ungrateful and consistently dissatisfied part of me that I try to shut out.

He also warned me that, when it comes down to it, having kids myself will probably bring out the same behaviors from me. I want to disagree. I want to say that I'll always be up for an adventure, to help people and be self-sacrificing. I think of the couple I met in Peru, whose names I can't recall right now, but they had a one year old daughter named Ilana. They seemed to be successful on both fronts. She was an engineer, he took tourists out on white water rafting trips. They traveled on and off throughout the year, switching between his mother's ranch in Peru and her parents' place in Colombia. They were young and educated and idealistic, they worked on sustainability projects with Pocha on the ranch, and meanwhile they raised a kid. Maybe Ilana won't have the same safe protected childhood my parents envision kids need, but I feel that her parents' lifestyle is going to bring her so much more.

I want that for my future. For myself, for my kids, for anyone else who thinks it sounds good. I don't want to compromise and choose a way of life that isn't great, that makes me feel uncomfortable when I think about it, all for the sake of feeling safe.

I can't walk =(

I woke up with a nasty charlie horse this morning. I was still a bit drunk from the night before, but even with the numbing effects of alcohol I was crying and cursing and writhing in pain. It even left a little friendly reminder behind - all day, I've been unable to walk/stand up/climb stairs/do anything requiring the use of my left calf muscle without first stumbling and saying "fuck" under my breath. A coworker claims she had one that stuck around for days.

If that's the case, I will be relying heavily on the rest of my vicodin prescription.

There's been a rash of robberies going on lately, or at least ones occurring to people I know. My brother's girlfriend had her house broken into a few weeks ago. Then just a few days ago another boy I know was robbed. Worse, he's been calmly and professionally selling huge quantities of weed to pay for college. He lost thousands of dollars, and thousands of dollars more worth of electronics and computer equipment. Petty thieves or people who knew him and knew what to find, those robbers went home rolling in their newfound wealth.

I know we're supposed to hiss and spit and give the evil eye to drug dealers, and the majority of them I've met have been completely sketched out, but this boy comes from a different line of suppliers. He's clean cut, hard-working, intelligent, friendly, and basically everything but what you'd expect. No one deserves to be robbed, but this kid least of anyone.

I got a second job for the summer. I'm basically doing the same things I did as a lifeguard, only minus the water and plus giant inflatable bouncy rooms. I'm determined to use my employee benefits to jump and tumble and play on them myself after hours. My first day is Tuesday, and I'm actually really excited to start. It seems more interactive with the customers, low-key, and even if the place smells a bit funny I'm sure I'll enjoy myself.

Awwww Yeah

At sixteen, my parents sent me out to find a summer job. At each of the 5 places I applied to, I got a job offer.

I picked the swimming pool, which was maybe a good idea and maybe bad, because I haven't had to seriously apply for a job since. Once in the pool network, all surrounding facilities will take you.

This summer, though, I need more hours. Mexico is going to be costly, and I need to prepare.

I sent out two 4am applications to part-time job openings in Bellingham.

I have an interview tomorrow at 11:30.

Still got it.

Fun Fact

Since Brent took back his TV, our only option left is my old 12-inch with a VCR. My laptop screen is bigger - just more of a reason to watch Surf the Channel instead.

Also. I should've known tonight would turn into an all-nighter.

Disconnected thoughts

Went out to Jalapeno's for Happy Hour with two of the roommates and Ky, and it was GREAT. Big Mamas are not notorious for nothing. After downing two and a pizza pan full of nachos, my entire goal for the rest of the afternoon was to find someplace warm to fall asleep. The boys steered me away from the park across the street, seeing as it's been raining intermittently for the last, oh, FIVE YEARS.

Ended up in my bed, which is never a bad place to find myself after a drinking bout.

Woke up to yelling in the kitchen, as usual. Meghan had come for a visit, I'm not sure why, I was still a bit muddled. Right before she left, though, she threw out that her friend from Friday thought I looked like I'd be fun to cuddle with. Of course, now I'd like to track this boy down and give it a go. Facebook made finding him a non-issue, but I don't think I have the guts to follow through.

Where was I going? Oh, yes. After an excellent kung-fu movie viewing with Nick, we trundled off to campus to take advantage of the beautiful, wonderful, heart-squeezing event known as 25 Cent Coffee During Finals Week.

Now it's a bit late, more than a bit late, actually stupidly late considering I have one last final tomorrow. Caffeine is coursing through me, my fingers are jittery, and the urge to sleep is completely gone.

Speaking of sleeping, last night I dreamed of pterodactyls and running away from them while wearing filmy, floaty Victorian-era dresses. And kid gloves.

Waiting for the sun

It's been yet another gloomy day here in Bellingham. I locked myself in the computer lab for four hours after acing a final, and I have mixed feelings about the experience.

Pro: finished my portfolio that is due tomorrow
Con: was in the computer lab for four hours
Pro: did not have to walk home during the onslaught of all rain in Bellingham's clouds
Con: missed the thunder and lightning show, and the lights flickering
Pro: ran into an old friend and we agreed to go out for a drink soon
Con: now have blisters on my feet from walking in wet shoes

Also I spent a lovely evening catching up with Sharron. Sometimes I just want to kidnap her and make her spend a day talking to me. She's completely inscrutable sometimes, we'll spend a few hours together and I'll still have no idea what's going through her head. Then other times, like tonight, I get a real solid idea of what makes her tick, what's been effecting her everyday.

The three glasses of sangria helped, I think.

More Notes from the Computer Lab

Fun story learned from a mostly tedious presentation day.

Horchata is a traditional Spanish drink that has variation among all Spanish-speaking countries. Legend says that the name comes from King Juame I, King of Aragorn. After being served the drink for the first time by a servant girl, he asked her the name. She told him, and he said, "No, això es or, xata!" (No, that's gold, girl!) And thus, horchata.

Made from milk, rice, vanilla, and cinnamon, it was the most deliciously comforting drink I have ever had. I'll be making lots of it over the summer, I'm sure.

AND OH GOD. I forgot I downloaded Lil Jon's Get Low. It just came onto my iPod and I swear, for a second I thought some jackass was blasting terrible music in the computer lab.

Warning: Dangerous Website for Women

I could totally spend thousands on a vacation in the French countryside. This one was the most garish I could find, and I'm in love. Proof that even oodles of money could never give me class.

Dead Week

Dead Week is just beginning, the true Finals panic has yet to set in, and the computer labs are only at half-capacity. Written on the white board at the front of the room is this poem:

My candle burns at both ends,
It will not last the night.
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-
It gives a lovely light.
-- Millay

It's rather ominous, wouldn't you agree?

Brent asked what I wanted for my birthday. I told him to get me some pants.

And Now, Let's Talk About Me Some More

I just didn't feel like the content of this post would mesh well with the contents of the previous. So here they are, two in one day, when usually I'm lucky to get 5 in a whole month.

I've run out of pants. They all have holes, these holes have been stitched up, and now the stitched bits are falling apart. Other just don't fit anymore, which makes sense, they're throwbacks I've been keeping around since my high school days. But this is becoming a very serious problem. Usually one pair of jeans works as the bottom half of my wardrobe for two weeks - now I have nothing. I pulled out some old capris that gloriously still fit, so every sunny day you can find my running about in green clam diggers. But what to do on gloomy, rain-threatening spring days such as today?

The answer, it turns out, is to dress up. While Jessica was visiting earlier this month, we went on a failed pants-shopping trip that ended with me purchasing an inappropriately thick, professionally chic skirt and classy heels. The weather was nice, and I doubted this ensemble would see the light of day before next December.

So I wore it today. I stayed warm despite the weather, despite the open air between my legs and the skirt. Also, my roommates wished me luck on my presentation, and on campus people asked if I had an interview later. What could I say? I told them the sad truth. I'm out of pants.

After finals I'm going shopping, come Hell or high water.

Also, last night at Boundary Bay, I pulled off a moment of rare genius. Kenny's got an ex-girlfriend that we love to hate, so when she approached our table to say hello and chat, I turned my face away to the others across the table. Holding my hands up to the side of my face, "Hey guys, which impressionistic painting am I??" and then contorted my face into the grisliest scream I could muster.

When I turned back she was gone.

A Long Lifetime

I turned 21 recently. Although I've been living it up ever since, consistently ordering beers and margaritas with my meals, I've also been haunted by a painful reality:

I am not a child anymore.

This is a fact that most people are quick to recognize; they fight for that truth to arrive and fake it if it hasn't. But our society lacks a clear definition for the difference between child and adult. It used to be when a girl had her period she became a woman. Now, not even losing your virginity guarantees that transformation. Some nations send their boys on spirit quests - if you survive, welcome back sir.

Our lines between the two descriptions have blurred. At 18, I went off to college. I ceased to have a curfew, I spent weeks without talking to my parents, and my educational success became entirely up to me. However, my parents still paid my bills, sent me money when I became broke, and called up and lectured my brother when we fought. How could that possibly be described as the circumstances of adulthood?

But I think I'm there now. School is getting hard. It requires more energy of me, energy that I'm not willing to give. But I give it anyway. Money is becoming a serious concern. I'll be working two jobs this summer, with any luck. I went on a road trip this weekend and realized that no one back home knew I had left.

The biggest sign, however, was that no one coddled me when I went to the emergency room Monday morning. And rather than feeling abandoned or unloved, I was glad for the space. I relished the time alone I had to deal with reality.

So there it is. I'm not a child anymore. I am an adult, I am responsible for myself, and I am glad to have finally arrived.

Sap

Hormones? Wuss? What? All I know is that I'll cry at the drop of a hat.

Reading an article for my management class, they mention a company that awards its top employees with a prize of their choice, worth up to $10,000.

"It's another thing when, in addition to public recognition of your performance, you receive a college tuition fund for your child, or the Harley-Davidson motorcycle you've always dreamed of, or -- the prize everyone at the company still talks about -- the airline tickets to fly you and your family back to Mexico to visit the grandmother you haven't seen in ten years."

Yep, teary-eyed. And in public.

Not Chuck Norris Yet

I always thought I was a decently bendy person. I mean, I can't do the splits, but I feel like I'm not in the minority here.
Yeah, well, kicking in my martial arts class today taught me that not only am I a crippled old woman, but that my balance is shit, too.
Time to start practicing the splits.

Also, there are other things going on in my life besides my attempts to become Bruce Lee. They're just not as fun to think about.