Ah, the holidays. While most are either ecstatic about or bemoaning the time with or without families, I am currently neither. Granted, I am pumped to be home -- absolutely PUMPED. But like I've had to tell people at work time and time again, I don't really know where I'm from anymore. Even while lazing in this chair I've sat in for years (except when Mom, glasses perched at the end of her nose, relaxes in this same chair while examining the newspaper every Sunday morning that I can remember), sipping my amazing hot tottie and seeking my next adventure, I am simply bothered by the fact that I can't choose or feel a home. It's the most unnatural feeling in the world. I suppose that's a downside for travel for me -- I have certain people, places, memories that I love, but little feeling of permanence. Nothing feels settled, and while in the long run it's probably a good and necessary feeling, currently I just want to get up, go out, and get busy. Funny that while I feel this now, all I'll want when I'm back in Seattle is to get back to my parents to make sure they're doing alright and to my friends to ensure I haven't completely lost all sanity or social capability.
I feel so grateful and lucky that I have such amazing, fascinating people in my life that I always have something to look forward to when I decide to return from my travels. But I suppose I always want what I absolutely cannot have -- for the current moment, at least.
For instance, all I wanted today was to go to Denny Way on Capitol Hill and sled in joy at the snow that's lasted in Seattle for a week (a week?!). This is especially odd since I went to Seattle specifically for the MILD weather. Naturally, once I get there, the snowstorm of the decade hits, and I feel like I'm missing out while back South. But I was lucky to get out while I could! The snow absolutely shut Seattle down -- and I got two glorious days off of work due to it. All the arterial streets were covered, and by 9:00 AM on the first day I was out to observe the snow-covered damage. The winter weather didn't even deter some bikers, but it made it impossible for any buses near my area to run. Being detached from the world is great fun for a while -- you get to turn off the work phone, dance in the snow, huddle under warm blankets trying to warm up from said dancing in the snow, fix hearty, heavy foods, and have an excuse to be lazy -- until you have a plane to catch. My flight was too early to catch a bus to Seatac from downtown (not like it mattered, as the buses TO downtown from my house weren't running anyways), and the taxis weren't taking any reservations or promises to make it down the hill to my house. On top of that, most limo services were booked up. After calls to about 10 different limo companies, I finally found one that could pick me up at 4:00 AM and get me to Seatac in time for my 6:00 AM flight for $75 bucks. A low price, considering I would have had to drive otherwise and paid for parking, assuming I got to the airport safely. Everything at the airport went off without a hitch, though I can't say the same for many of my other Seattle friends. Kerry was scheduled to get to Boston on a red-eye Friday night, and didn't end up arriving until Monday due to bad weather alternating in Seattle and Boston. I guess living in the South is a blessing this Christmas!
Lexington has changed, and people have changed, but in good ways. I was giddy and acting as ridiculous as a tween on the midnight premiere of Twilight once I got to see old friends. I'm sure I hugged too hard and maybe awkwardly too long for some (and I would hug in the same manner if I had to relive those hugs!), but it was such a relief -- and so AWESOME -- to see fun, familiar faces. The typical activities ensued -- random gossip, beer drinking, song-singing, Rock Band, inside jokes, testing to see if our humors still match -- and laughing in relief when they do. A huge part of me wants to be back in Lexington NOW, while most everyone I love is still there. If something leads me back there, I know I will have no qualms returning. In this depressingly realistic moment, however, I realize there are few real options for me in the town I've come to love most.
My tenure in my current job is up in 6 months, and as such I am looking for options. I know I'm not quite ready to go back to school, though in the plan in my head it will definitely happen next year. I'm too scared to write about "the plan" here because 1) it makes it real and 2) said plan will feel too immovable. I guess there is a part of me that still likes that impermanence...
For now, I will continue to not-so-sneakily steal Dad's homemade sugar cookie dough and consider the possibilities. I also wouldn't be surprised if I took a late night walk around my old hood. That's the other joy of living in the South -- seeming safety.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Reeths.
The buses in Seattle make me laugh. Not because they are usually late, or because there is an advertisement for my workplace above the seats of every freakin' bus, but because of the Pemco insurance advertisements. Pemco is based out of Washington, and recognizing that the northwest (and certain parts of Washington and Seattle) is full of all kinds of stereotypes, Pemco took the time to point them out while saying "We're a lot like you -- a little different." Check it out! Note: My favorites are #15 recumbent bike commuter, #5 NW Male Action Figure, and #56 socks and sandals guy.
Apparently I'm attempting to assimilate myself into parts of this culture by attempting to bike to and from work. Perhaps it's a mix of the recumbent bike commuter and male action figure, except I'm female and ride a pretty normal bike. I planned to get this habit started earlier, i.e., when it was warm and sunny and August. But, due to a 2,600 cross-country trip where my bike had to bear the brunt of the bouncing car and weather, finally settling in a house where I could actually ride my bicycle home after work, getting that bike home after realize mid-ride that the gears couldn't stay fixed, thus ceasing my pedaling, and after 2 trips to a crappy bike shop to get my bike fixed properly (A new wheel, sheesh!), I finally had a fully functioning hybrid bike. Hoorah! Now I can be more green, but more importantly get up later to get to work, and get a bit of exercise in as well. Not only that, but it's like...a challenge to get to work, something to push through that I absolutely MUST do once I've started in order to get to work on time. That's the kind of stress that I don't really mind. The downside is that I could be a bit more smelly during the day and I have to give a bit of let time to allow me to change into uniform at the office. No big deal though, right? It takes just as long to get there by bus!
Well, let's just say that I have a new respect for bike commuters.
After strapping on my backpack and a last swig of coffee, I was ready to see what the open road had in store for me -- at least, for the 3 miles to work. Dressed in tennis shoes, tight workout pants, layered tops, ear warmer, and with headphones stuck in my ears, I dragged my bike down the front stairs of my house, mounted, and was off. (I have to say that the biking "look" is not particularly attractive, but it keeps you warm in cool, rainy weather.) For about 4-5 blocks, that is. Did I ever mention that the hills here are absolutely killer? Granted, I'm definitely not in the best shape of my life, but going up 5-6 blocks of pure hill is incredibly pressing, especially if it's early in the morning and you were expecting a little more of your atrophied muscles. I had to walk at one point just to catch my breath and to avoid a vicious uphill part. However, there is one awesome part of the commute -- flying downhill! I was just sad that it ended as quickly as it did. Save for a couple of pant snags on the gears of my bike, it was a pretty successful ride.
The end of the day wasn't so kind to me. I managed to get out of the office by 6:00 -- practically a record! But as I unlocked my bike from its space behind the building, I noticed that it rained today and left my cushy seat all wet. Eww. I ended up tying a grocery bag around the seat to keep the seat from giving me a wet print on my bum. No worries -- I was still hyped to go! Sadly, my ride this time would not be as fun. My butt was a bit sore from the morning ride and, due to the rain, a slow pace, and a dip in a curve that I didn't expect, I managed to wreck. The bike fell on its right side (not the gears!) and I managed to hop off before I went with it. A bit humbled, I righted the bike and walked it up to Yesler on the sidewalk before trying to mount it again. A police officer came up to me and made sure I was okay - which I was. But as I walked a bit further and tried to pedal once more, I noticed the gears were locked. Of COURSE my bike didn't work anymore! All it apparently wanted to do was stay in the shop. I fiddled with the pedals, gears, and chain for a bit before giving up and deciding to walk it home. I couldn't really see what was going on in the dark anyways, and all I could tell was that the chain was stuck in one of the back parts of the bike. The next block down I decided to give it one last look, and after resetting the chain on its proper path, I was able to coast most of the way downhill towards home.
I think I'm going to try and bike twice a week, just to the office and back and on weekends if I'm going to a destination that's close by. I had planned on biking to West Seattle, which is a good 10 miles from my house, but I think I'll just leave that idea on the back burner for now. Right now I think I'm doing fine just learning how to conquer the smaller hills and traffic that Seattle has to offer. Also, in case I don't post again before traveling home for Christmas, I want all you Lexingtonians to know that I will be in town starting on the 20th and ending around the 23rd or 24th, and then back from the 29th through the 2nd. I hope to see all of you soon!
p.s. the title is how my co-service leader spelled "wreaths" on our Outlook calendar. Seriously. He deserves some internet mocking.
Apparently I'm attempting to assimilate myself into parts of this culture by attempting to bike to and from work. Perhaps it's a mix of the recumbent bike commuter and male action figure, except I'm female and ride a pretty normal bike. I planned to get this habit started earlier, i.e., when it was warm and sunny and August. But, due to a 2,600 cross-country trip where my bike had to bear the brunt of the bouncing car and weather, finally settling in a house where I could actually ride my bicycle home after work, getting that bike home after realize mid-ride that the gears couldn't stay fixed, thus ceasing my pedaling, and after 2 trips to a crappy bike shop to get my bike fixed properly (A new wheel, sheesh!), I finally had a fully functioning hybrid bike. Hoorah! Now I can be more green, but more importantly get up later to get to work, and get a bit of exercise in as well. Not only that, but it's like...a challenge to get to work, something to push through that I absolutely MUST do once I've started in order to get to work on time. That's the kind of stress that I don't really mind. The downside is that I could be a bit more smelly during the day and I have to give a bit of let time to allow me to change into uniform at the office. No big deal though, right? It takes just as long to get there by bus!
Well, let's just say that I have a new respect for bike commuters.
After strapping on my backpack and a last swig of coffee, I was ready to see what the open road had in store for me -- at least, for the 3 miles to work. Dressed in tennis shoes, tight workout pants, layered tops, ear warmer, and with headphones stuck in my ears, I dragged my bike down the front stairs of my house, mounted, and was off. (I have to say that the biking "look" is not particularly attractive, but it keeps you warm in cool, rainy weather.) For about 4-5 blocks, that is. Did I ever mention that the hills here are absolutely killer? Granted, I'm definitely not in the best shape of my life, but going up 5-6 blocks of pure hill is incredibly pressing, especially if it's early in the morning and you were expecting a little more of your atrophied muscles. I had to walk at one point just to catch my breath and to avoid a vicious uphill part. However, there is one awesome part of the commute -- flying downhill! I was just sad that it ended as quickly as it did. Save for a couple of pant snags on the gears of my bike, it was a pretty successful ride.
The end of the day wasn't so kind to me. I managed to get out of the office by 6:00 -- practically a record! But as I unlocked my bike from its space behind the building, I noticed that it rained today and left my cushy seat all wet. Eww. I ended up tying a grocery bag around the seat to keep the seat from giving me a wet print on my bum. No worries -- I was still hyped to go! Sadly, my ride this time would not be as fun. My butt was a bit sore from the morning ride and, due to the rain, a slow pace, and a dip in a curve that I didn't expect, I managed to wreck. The bike fell on its right side (not the gears!) and I managed to hop off before I went with it. A bit humbled, I righted the bike and walked it up to Yesler on the sidewalk before trying to mount it again. A police officer came up to me and made sure I was okay - which I was. But as I walked a bit further and tried to pedal once more, I noticed the gears were locked. Of COURSE my bike didn't work anymore! All it apparently wanted to do was stay in the shop. I fiddled with the pedals, gears, and chain for a bit before giving up and deciding to walk it home. I couldn't really see what was going on in the dark anyways, and all I could tell was that the chain was stuck in one of the back parts of the bike. The next block down I decided to give it one last look, and after resetting the chain on its proper path, I was able to coast most of the way downhill towards home.
I think I'm going to try and bike twice a week, just to the office and back and on weekends if I'm going to a destination that's close by. I had planned on biking to West Seattle, which is a good 10 miles from my house, but I think I'll just leave that idea on the back burner for now. Right now I think I'm doing fine just learning how to conquer the smaller hills and traffic that Seattle has to offer. Also, in case I don't post again before traveling home for Christmas, I want all you Lexingtonians to know that I will be in town starting on the 20th and ending around the 23rd or 24th, and then back from the 29th through the 2nd. I hope to see all of you soon!
p.s. the title is how my co-service leader spelled "wreaths" on our Outlook calendar. Seriously. He deserves some internet mocking.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Country roads, take me home.
Ever since my emergency room excursion, I've found myself a bit more lethargic. I don't think it's just the percosets talking either. It's not just that I'm trying to figure out what to do next year, or the 50-60 hour weeks wearing on me this time. I finally put my finger on it today while walking to the last farmer's market of the year on Capitol Hill.
I'm nervous about going home.
Of all feelings, I did not expect this. Ever since really seeing what my job is about, I've wanted to escape back to familiarity and warmth of home. For the past 5-6 weeks, I've become pretty acclimated to life here -- getting up before the sun rises and after it sets, performing a delicate waltz with my roommates in our tiny kitchen during meal times, remembering how often my most-traveled buses stop, gasping in awe at Mount Rainier on clear days, being able to walk down the street to get anything I need, and feeling busy and tired, but lucky most days. It's a completely different type of exhausted, one that perhaps a lot of Americorps volunteers experience -- if I don't do this work, no one will. It's simultaneously distressing and motivating.
My half-day on Wednesday was AWESOME, as most half-days are. However, like most days at my job, I managed to stay later than usual. By 2:00 I was back home, preparing myself for a run, shower, and packing for the long weekend ahead. More than anything, I felt excited about going home. As I began my run by Lake Washington (another blue-skied day -- I think people exaggerate about the amount of rain here!), my cardio system wheezed at me, and I immediately regretted putting work and my weakness for free pastries above my running routine. I need to get back in this healthy habit. Eventually I prepared for my plane ride by having just enough beers while packing to easily put me to sleep long before my 3:45 AM wake-up call. Kerry drove me to the airport in exchange for use of my car this weekend, and by 5:10 I was through security and preparing to board my plane for Dallas/Fort Worth.
Maryville was not as comfortable as I remembered. No one was waiting for me as I bolted past security around 3:30 PM. Disappointing, but my plane was early and my ever-frugal parents don’t want to park at the airport for long periods of time, because that would mean having to pay something to the parking people after leaving the terminal. This isn’t meant as a dig against them, but I think it probably does explain a lot about how I learned to live. At any rate, after the slight disappointment, I headed down to baggage claim and waited for my luggage to come around. It even felt surreal standing there, because I got the distinct feeling that someone from my plane was continuing to stare at me – again, something I’m not too used to feeling (though, perhaps I should.)
Life, naturally, got even more ridiculous as I waited. All of a sudden, none other than Mike Finney popped around the carousel, heading towards security. I remember shock, embarrassment, and a bit of anger towards the heavens for whomever was pulling this trick on me. I’m sure this also registered on my face – picture the jaw drop, the unsure peer, and then a reassuring smile -- it would be nice to see Finney, considering I hadn't seen him in...wow, years? Still, the first person I see when I touch down at home after a long time away HAD to be an ex? Really?! Luckily, the encounter was less than awkward, but unfortunately was a bit insulting. After commenting how cool it would be to work in an airport (I have always had an affinity for them, ask me about it sometime), he simply said, “Wow, you’re still a dork.” And laughed his raucous Finney laugh. The proper response would have been, “Wow, and you’re still in Maryville”, but alas, in true Corey fashion, I thought of the comeback ten minutes later than appropriate. At least he left to serve the needy travelers of the airport Ruby Tuesday before my Dad came striding in with a white rose and big smile – finally, a face I was excited to see!
As Dad and I drove down Alcoa highway, same as I always have since we moved to Maryville in 1996, I felt a surprising wave of emotions crest over me. Home is huge – in the sense that it is so spread out. There were vast amounts of perfectly good land not being used in some form of development. The chain stores – O’Charley’s, Cracker Barrel, Panera, Chili’s – felt impossibly far away, practicably unreachable. I didn’t have to look up to see clear skies. All the while, I’m chitchatting with my Dad about random occurances in the past few months in Maryville that don’t actually have any significant bearing on the place, such as newly paved turn lanes, but this was actually the kind of small talk I missed.
We entered the house through the garage and familiar laundry room. Mom ran to greet me with a huge hug and grin. I don't think I've ever seen her so excited! And me? Absolutely overwhelmed with everything. This was not what I remembered, or rather I guess, what I expected. Even the kitchen felt vast, much like the town did as Dad and I drove in. After exchanging pleasantries with Ross and Christin, who were busily preparing sides for the ensuing meal, I crept to the nook between my room and bathroom and allowed myself a short cry. I couldn't put my finger on what exactly I was crying over -- joy? confusion? the weight of everything I've done/thought/felt these past 4-5 months? Relieved, exhausted, hungry, and absolutely bewildered at my guttereal reaction, I calmed myself and sat down to dinner with my closest family. Over a new mac + cheese recipe and Dad's homemade bread, all the unpleasantness went away as we chatted about absent grandparents and various recent pop culture phenomena (Quantum of Solace, Twilight, and Sarah Palin.) My world softened and I could once again feel free to be myself -- at least, the self I am while I'm around family -- and that is definitely a more comfortable persona.
See, this is what positively baffles me. I wanted and knew I needed a change in my life -- one of the huge reasons I moved to Seattle. But once I came back this weekend, I felt as if I could be myself once more. Isn't that the same person I was?/am? trying to change? However, haven't I also said before that my current line of work is forcing me to change in ways I don't desire? So, was my shock in delight of finding out my past self still exists, or the realization of regression to my unwanted past self? Perhaps, even more sadly, could it be a bit of both? And I thought culture shock could only occur if you visited another nation!
Overall, however, my trip home was awesome. I soon settled in and got to see Jessie, one of my best childhood friends, as soon as she was done with dinner as well. We also hung out in the thriving hustle and bustle of downtown Maryville, where we visited 3/4 of the local bars -- one of which was hosting a 40th birthday party, which we awkwardly walked in on. Oops. UK won its basketball games, and I got to see my sneaky uncles hide a fifth of Jim Beam in their jackets as they entered Neyland Stadium for Fulmer's last game. Overall, it was a great trip home, and I was sad to leave my friends and parents, but not so much the place. I wonder if the same will hold true for Lexington in three weeks...
I'm nervous about going home.
Of all feelings, I did not expect this. Ever since really seeing what my job is about, I've wanted to escape back to familiarity and warmth of home. For the past 5-6 weeks, I've become pretty acclimated to life here -- getting up before the sun rises and after it sets, performing a delicate waltz with my roommates in our tiny kitchen during meal times, remembering how often my most-traveled buses stop, gasping in awe at Mount Rainier on clear days, being able to walk down the street to get anything I need, and feeling busy and tired, but lucky most days. It's a completely different type of exhausted, one that perhaps a lot of Americorps volunteers experience -- if I don't do this work, no one will. It's simultaneously distressing and motivating.
My half-day on Wednesday was AWESOME, as most half-days are. However, like most days at my job, I managed to stay later than usual. By 2:00 I was back home, preparing myself for a run, shower, and packing for the long weekend ahead. More than anything, I felt excited about going home. As I began my run by Lake Washington (another blue-skied day -- I think people exaggerate about the amount of rain here!), my cardio system wheezed at me, and I immediately regretted putting work and my weakness for free pastries above my running routine. I need to get back in this healthy habit. Eventually I prepared for my plane ride by having just enough beers while packing to easily put me to sleep long before my 3:45 AM wake-up call. Kerry drove me to the airport in exchange for use of my car this weekend, and by 5:10 I was through security and preparing to board my plane for Dallas/Fort Worth.
Maryville was not as comfortable as I remembered. No one was waiting for me as I bolted past security around 3:30 PM. Disappointing, but my plane was early and my ever-frugal parents don’t want to park at the airport for long periods of time, because that would mean having to pay something to the parking people after leaving the terminal. This isn’t meant as a dig against them, but I think it probably does explain a lot about how I learned to live. At any rate, after the slight disappointment, I headed down to baggage claim and waited for my luggage to come around. It even felt surreal standing there, because I got the distinct feeling that someone from my plane was continuing to stare at me – again, something I’m not too used to feeling (though, perhaps I should.)
Life, naturally, got even more ridiculous as I waited. All of a sudden, none other than Mike Finney popped around the carousel, heading towards security. I remember shock, embarrassment, and a bit of anger towards the heavens for whomever was pulling this trick on me. I’m sure this also registered on my face – picture the jaw drop, the unsure peer, and then a reassuring smile -- it would be nice to see Finney, considering I hadn't seen him in...wow, years? Still, the first person I see when I touch down at home after a long time away HAD to be an ex? Really?! Luckily, the encounter was less than awkward, but unfortunately was a bit insulting. After commenting how cool it would be to work in an airport (I have always had an affinity for them, ask me about it sometime), he simply said, “Wow, you’re still a dork.” And laughed his raucous Finney laugh. The proper response would have been, “Wow, and you’re still in Maryville”, but alas, in true Corey fashion, I thought of the comeback ten minutes later than appropriate. At least he left to serve the needy travelers of the airport Ruby Tuesday before my Dad came striding in with a white rose and big smile – finally, a face I was excited to see!
As Dad and I drove down Alcoa highway, same as I always have since we moved to Maryville in 1996, I felt a surprising wave of emotions crest over me. Home is huge – in the sense that it is so spread out. There were vast amounts of perfectly good land not being used in some form of development. The chain stores – O’Charley’s, Cracker Barrel, Panera, Chili’s – felt impossibly far away, practicably unreachable. I didn’t have to look up to see clear skies. All the while, I’m chitchatting with my Dad about random occurances in the past few months in Maryville that don’t actually have any significant bearing on the place, such as newly paved turn lanes, but this was actually the kind of small talk I missed.
We entered the house through the garage and familiar laundry room. Mom ran to greet me with a huge hug and grin. I don't think I've ever seen her so excited! And me? Absolutely overwhelmed with everything. This was not what I remembered, or rather I guess, what I expected. Even the kitchen felt vast, much like the town did as Dad and I drove in. After exchanging pleasantries with Ross and Christin, who were busily preparing sides for the ensuing meal, I crept to the nook between my room and bathroom and allowed myself a short cry. I couldn't put my finger on what exactly I was crying over -- joy? confusion? the weight of everything I've done/thought/felt these past 4-5 months? Relieved, exhausted, hungry, and absolutely bewildered at my guttereal reaction, I calmed myself and sat down to dinner with my closest family. Over a new mac + cheese recipe and Dad's homemade bread, all the unpleasantness went away as we chatted about absent grandparents and various recent pop culture phenomena (Quantum of Solace, Twilight, and Sarah Palin.) My world softened and I could once again feel free to be myself -- at least, the self I am while I'm around family -- and that is definitely a more comfortable persona.
See, this is what positively baffles me. I wanted and knew I needed a change in my life -- one of the huge reasons I moved to Seattle. But once I came back this weekend, I felt as if I could be myself once more. Isn't that the same person I was?/am? trying to change? However, haven't I also said before that my current line of work is forcing me to change in ways I don't desire? So, was my shock in delight of finding out my past self still exists, or the realization of regression to my unwanted past self? Perhaps, even more sadly, could it be a bit of both? And I thought culture shock could only occur if you visited another nation!
Overall, however, my trip home was awesome. I soon settled in and got to see Jessie, one of my best childhood friends, as soon as she was done with dinner as well. We also hung out in the thriving hustle and bustle of downtown Maryville, where we visited 3/4 of the local bars -- one of which was hosting a 40th birthday party, which we awkwardly walked in on. Oops. UK won its basketball games, and I got to see my sneaky uncles hide a fifth of Jim Beam in their jackets as they entered Neyland Stadium for Fulmer's last game. Overall, it was a great trip home, and I was sad to leave my friends and parents, but not so much the place. I wonder if the same will hold true for Lexington in three weeks...
Saturday, November 8, 2008
be safe, you say.
It just occurred to me this afternoon that I eat pluots. Not just that I eat them, I suppose, but that I bought them somehow knowing that I would like them, even though I've never bitten into a plum or apricot separately. I thought to myself, "hmm. Pluots. Sounds good." and put them in my Trader Joe's basket next to the usual groceries. But this is such unusual behavior for me, and not just because the word "pluot" sounds non-sensical, like something I would have made out of a mud puddle in 3rd grade, but because I bought something to eat that I had never tried before.
This thought pounced on me as I entered Verite and ordered the usual - a drip coffee and chocolate cupcake, no matter the flavor of icing on top. Fumbling through my clutch, I realized I didn't have any cash and didn't meet the $5.00 credit card minimum. This kind of situation always makes me embarrassed, mainly because I just inconvenienced my barista friend who I usually engage in friendly, but non-stimulating small talk (how are you, local music, nightly plans, etc.) After admitting that I could only pay by card if he would let me, he leaned over with his cute Metro smile and told me not to worry about it. But I am worrying about it, because since WHEN do I get things for free?! I've never been disposed to natural banter, and even my close friends would not describe me as approachable or charming, but apparently having an affable coffee time friend pays off every once in a while! Unfortunately, he filled my diner mug all the way to the top, not leaving any room for my usual splash of half and half. No worries, I thought, as I sipped my coffee black...and LIKED it. Really, what is this (my?) world coming to?!
My post-college life has changed dramatically. Little did I know 5 years ago that I would NOT be in graduate school or at a well-paying job. I definitely didn't think I would be involved in child protective services situations, or would be drinking wine and beer cheaper than I found in college. (Yes, it gets worse than PBR and Five Oaks.) And while I always pictured myself living far away from home, at least for a little bit, I never thought it would be quite like this -- single in a city known for dreary weather, trying to walk as much as possible in said dreary weather, usually in Timberland boots and horribly baggy pants, without any idea of what to do AFTER her year in uniform. As I wonder what I should do next year, my thoughts follow like Esther's in The Bell Jar:
I have to move on before I find myself too emo and self-depreciating. It's only cute and thought-provoking to a point.
We had a service day today that made me realize why my program is needed in a place like Seattle. We gathered about 30 Young Heroes in Seward Park -- a pretty good turnout, considering the heavy rain during most of the morning -- and planted native trees and shrubs as a part of the Green Seattle Initiative ("GSI"). GSI is basically a partnership between the Cascade Land Conservancy, Seattle Parks + Rec, and the City to restore 2500 acres of forest to Seattle by 2030. Most of the actual work will be done by volunteers like the Heroes we brought out. Like most middle school groups, the Heroes are incredibly diverse in terms of interests, maturity, etc. While we have to stop some kids from throwing dirt in each other's faces, we have to also provide the opportunity for some kids to talk about issues that they otherwise may not feel comfortable discussing. For instance, on Halloween night there was a shooting near Garfield High School -- a little less than a mile and a half from my house -- in which a 15 year old died and another was critically injured. Youth violence is climbing in the city, and lots of residents are attributing it to gangs beginning to permeate from California up to here. However, the boys that we talked with while planting western red cedars and the like insist that the boy that was killed, "wasn't like that." Finnigan (name clearly changed) carefully, but with an infuriated tone, cited that Quincy stood up for him in the cafeteria at middle school and that he was a good kid. All these people attributing him to the gangs just seemed to be an impossibility for him. All this just came out with no other reasoning, to me, than the simple fact that we were there for him. Granted, there are lots of youth programs in the United States, but few that are so focused on both the well-being of the community and empowering youth within it.
On a personal note, it seems that November has become the month of injuries for me. The day after Halloween, I was invited by a few friends out to a corn maze in Snoqualmie, just a 45 minute drive north of Seattle. The rolling hills and farmlands, as well as the occasional strip mall, reminded me so much of Kentucky. Once we found the corn maze, it didn't take long for mischief to occur. Jake began to snipe the rest of us by hiding in the stalks and hurling ears of corn in our general direction, which mainly ended up landing in puddles and splashing mud on our rolled-up jeans. We all took part in the fun, despite the immaturit of it all. It reminded me of Ross and I's fights with super soakers back in the woods of Franklin, Tennessee. This was nostalgic and all up until Tai came around the corner and pitched an ear right at my face, causing immediate tears, laughter at the ridiculousness being slapped with an ear of corn, and a black eye that is still evident today. Here is what I looked like directly after the assault by corn:
This morning I was attacked by something I expected even less than an ear of corn in my face. I began my day by walking to our PT (physical training) site for the day near our office. After chatting with Kerry and others, I felt a discomfort that made me think that I just really had to pee. After village circle at 8:15, I began to search for a bathroom. After team circle at 8:30, I was in some serious abdominal pain. During PT, I realized it probably wasn't my bladder, and that any kind of physical movement didn't affect the strength of the pain in my lower right side. It was appendicitis -- I was convinced. By 8:45 I was rushing to the nearest bathroom and soon realized that, just as I thought, it wasn't my bladder. Joe tried to convince me to take some Tylenol to make it feel better, but we weren't talking a headache or sore calf muscles here -- we were talking a sharp, stabbing sensation. In my torso. I knew we had to take the company van to the emergency room. By 9:00, the pain made me nauseous and pretty irritable towards the admitting nurse in the ER. After the RNs poked around my left arm for a suitable vein for an IV, they gave up and had to search for one in my right. All this time, I'm clarifying my mom's phone number for the admitting nurse while she tries to give me back my insurance card while I'm on the freakin' gurney in the ridiculous "hello, here's my entire backside, enjoy the view!" hospital gown and yell, "what am I supposed to do with this right now?!" Timidly, she put the card back in my uniform jacket pocket and left the room. Then, I vomited into a handy mass-manufactured-for-hospitals barf bag. I continue to squirm and moan, cursing my vestige of an organ until 10:00, when the room was emptied, until 10:15, when I pushed the call button (even though I told myself that I was just being a wimp) and yelled, "I need the pain meds!" By 10:40 I had intravenous anti-nausea medication and some kind of pain meds that made my entire body feel numb while a burning tingle began in my hands. Soon I was texting my friends, wanting to document the experience fully, and called my Mom to tell her about the wooziness of my medication. In the background, I remember hearing Joe's laughter. Soon enough, I was out. Periodically, a doctor would come in a grab me for a CT scan and a pelvic ultrasound (which, if you really want to know the gritty details of, you should investigate on Wikipedia), while I threw up from the motion sickness of being transported from room to room...on a gurney. People also kept asking if I was pregnant of all things. I wondered if this was Jeffrey, my infamous twin that grew on thyroid last December and had to be drained. By the time 3:45 rolled around, the doctors eliminated appendicitis and kidney stones and figured out I had a "large, complex ovarian cyst" on my right ovary about 6 centimeters in diameter -- which is apparently pretty fucking big. My roommate Cortney attributed the pain to, "a testicle being squished. hard." My other roommate, Jaime, had one rupture on her when she was 24, and said that it literally is the worst pain any woman can ever feel. Right now, I'm just grateful it didn't rupture and that my oxycodone/acetaminophen mix is working just fine.
Luckily, I have tomorrow off (woo Veterans!) so that I don't have to take yet another day off of work. The downside is that I don't get to go hiking as planned. I'll never say no to mint tea and chocolatey pumpkin bread, a heating pad, and all the movies and TV shows I can watch!
This thought pounced on me as I entered Verite and ordered the usual - a drip coffee and chocolate cupcake, no matter the flavor of icing on top. Fumbling through my clutch, I realized I didn't have any cash and didn't meet the $5.00 credit card minimum. This kind of situation always makes me embarrassed, mainly because I just inconvenienced my barista friend who I usually engage in friendly, but non-stimulating small talk (how are you, local music, nightly plans, etc.) After admitting that I could only pay by card if he would let me, he leaned over with his cute Metro smile and told me not to worry about it. But I am worrying about it, because since WHEN do I get things for free?! I've never been disposed to natural banter, and even my close friends would not describe me as approachable or charming, but apparently having an affable coffee time friend pays off every once in a while! Unfortunately, he filled my diner mug all the way to the top, not leaving any room for my usual splash of half and half. No worries, I thought, as I sipped my coffee black...and LIKED it. Really, what is this (my?) world coming to?!
My post-college life has changed dramatically. Little did I know 5 years ago that I would NOT be in graduate school or at a well-paying job. I definitely didn't think I would be involved in child protective services situations, or would be drinking wine and beer cheaper than I found in college. (Yes, it gets worse than PBR and Five Oaks.) And while I always pictured myself living far away from home, at least for a little bit, I never thought it would be quite like this -- single in a city known for dreary weather, trying to walk as much as possible in said dreary weather, usually in Timberland boots and horribly baggy pants, without any idea of what to do AFTER her year in uniform. As I wonder what I should do next year, my thoughts follow like Esther's in The Bell Jar:
"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."
I have to move on before I find myself too emo and self-depreciating. It's only cute and thought-provoking to a point.
We had a service day today that made me realize why my program is needed in a place like Seattle. We gathered about 30 Young Heroes in Seward Park -- a pretty good turnout, considering the heavy rain during most of the morning -- and planted native trees and shrubs as a part of the Green Seattle Initiative ("GSI"). GSI is basically a partnership between the Cascade Land Conservancy, Seattle Parks + Rec, and the City to restore 2500 acres of forest to Seattle by 2030. Most of the actual work will be done by volunteers like the Heroes we brought out. Like most middle school groups, the Heroes are incredibly diverse in terms of interests, maturity, etc. While we have to stop some kids from throwing dirt in each other's faces, we have to also provide the opportunity for some kids to talk about issues that they otherwise may not feel comfortable discussing. For instance, on Halloween night there was a shooting near Garfield High School -- a little less than a mile and a half from my house -- in which a 15 year old died and another was critically injured. Youth violence is climbing in the city, and lots of residents are attributing it to gangs beginning to permeate from California up to here. However, the boys that we talked with while planting western red cedars and the like insist that the boy that was killed, "wasn't like that." Finnigan (name clearly changed) carefully, but with an infuriated tone, cited that Quincy stood up for him in the cafeteria at middle school and that he was a good kid. All these people attributing him to the gangs just seemed to be an impossibility for him. All this just came out with no other reasoning, to me, than the simple fact that we were there for him. Granted, there are lots of youth programs in the United States, but few that are so focused on both the well-being of the community and empowering youth within it.
On a personal note, it seems that November has become the month of injuries for me. The day after Halloween, I was invited by a few friends out to a corn maze in Snoqualmie, just a 45 minute drive north of Seattle. The rolling hills and farmlands, as well as the occasional strip mall, reminded me so much of Kentucky. Once we found the corn maze, it didn't take long for mischief to occur. Jake began to snipe the rest of us by hiding in the stalks and hurling ears of corn in our general direction, which mainly ended up landing in puddles and splashing mud on our rolled-up jeans. We all took part in the fun, despite the immaturit of it all. It reminded me of Ross and I's fights with super soakers back in the woods of Franklin, Tennessee. This was nostalgic and all up until Tai came around the corner and pitched an ear right at my face, causing immediate tears, laughter at the ridiculousness being slapped with an ear of corn, and a black eye that is still evident today. Here is what I looked like directly after the assault by corn:
This morning I was attacked by something I expected even less than an ear of corn in my face. I began my day by walking to our PT (physical training) site for the day near our office. After chatting with Kerry and others, I felt a discomfort that made me think that I just really had to pee. After village circle at 8:15, I began to search for a bathroom. After team circle at 8:30, I was in some serious abdominal pain. During PT, I realized it probably wasn't my bladder, and that any kind of physical movement didn't affect the strength of the pain in my lower right side. It was appendicitis -- I was convinced. By 8:45 I was rushing to the nearest bathroom and soon realized that, just as I thought, it wasn't my bladder. Joe tried to convince me to take some Tylenol to make it feel better, but we weren't talking a headache or sore calf muscles here -- we were talking a sharp, stabbing sensation. In my torso. I knew we had to take the company van to the emergency room. By 9:00, the pain made me nauseous and pretty irritable towards the admitting nurse in the ER. After the RNs poked around my left arm for a suitable vein for an IV, they gave up and had to search for one in my right. All this time, I'm clarifying my mom's phone number for the admitting nurse while she tries to give me back my insurance card while I'm on the freakin' gurney in the ridiculous "hello, here's my entire backside, enjoy the view!" hospital gown and yell, "what am I supposed to do with this right now?!" Timidly, she put the card back in my uniform jacket pocket and left the room. Then, I vomited into a handy mass-manufactured-for-hospitals barf bag. I continue to squirm and moan, cursing my vestige of an organ until 10:00, when the room was emptied, until 10:15, when I pushed the call button (even though I told myself that I was just being a wimp) and yelled, "I need the pain meds!" By 10:40 I had intravenous anti-nausea medication and some kind of pain meds that made my entire body feel numb while a burning tingle began in my hands. Soon I was texting my friends, wanting to document the experience fully, and called my Mom to tell her about the wooziness of my medication. In the background, I remember hearing Joe's laughter. Soon enough, I was out. Periodically, a doctor would come in a grab me for a CT scan and a pelvic ultrasound (which, if you really want to know the gritty details of, you should investigate on Wikipedia), while I threw up from the motion sickness of being transported from room to room...on a gurney. People also kept asking if I was pregnant of all things. I wondered if this was Jeffrey, my infamous twin that grew on thyroid last December and had to be drained. By the time 3:45 rolled around, the doctors eliminated appendicitis and kidney stones and figured out I had a "large, complex ovarian cyst" on my right ovary about 6 centimeters in diameter -- which is apparently pretty fucking big. My roommate Cortney attributed the pain to, "a testicle being squished. hard." My other roommate, Jaime, had one rupture on her when she was 24, and said that it literally is the worst pain any woman can ever feel. Right now, I'm just grateful it didn't rupture and that my oxycodone/acetaminophen mix is working just fine.
Luckily, I have tomorrow off (woo Veterans!) so that I don't have to take yet another day off of work. The downside is that I don't get to go hiking as planned. I'll never say no to mint tea and chocolatey pumpkin bread, a heating pad, and all the movies and TV shows I can watch!
Friday, October 31, 2008
recent decisions
1) if McCain is elected, I'm pretty set on joining the Peace Corps.
2) non-mobile babies should not wear any other costumes than the classic pea pod:
because a) putting different "ears" on (cat, bunny, devil, etc.) does NOT constitute a costume and b) it is by far the cutest little kid costume, despite the "I promise, I'm not poopy right now" look on the infant's face.
3) I want to be involved with politics, if only to prevent this from ever coming to fruition.
Corey
2) non-mobile babies should not wear any other costumes than the classic pea pod:
because a) putting different "ears" on (cat, bunny, devil, etc.) does NOT constitute a costume and b) it is by far the cutest little kid costume, despite the "I promise, I'm not poopy right now" look on the infant's face.
3) I want to be involved with politics, if only to prevent this from ever coming to fruition.
Corey
Monday, October 27, 2008
Leaves were falling, just like embers.
Fall here is not like any Southern fall I've experienced. Instead of turning from green to drab brown in the period of a couple of weeks, which my forester father blames on the dry years we've had recently, the trees seem to take their time, phasing through all the appropriate hues of yellow, orange, and red. Because this is the Pacific Northwest, green is still around with the bushes and the persistent conifers. Even though most of the locals warn of the coming winter gloom and cloudy days, the past few weeks have been filled with clear and mostly sunny days, leaving Mount Rainier open for all to see. Coming across the West Seattle Bridge back into Seattle after a hard day of work at Denny to see Rainier popping up majestically in the distance, the cranes of Harbor Island that look exactly like orange brachiosauruses, and downtown Seattle from across the sound and the harbor is a view I'll never get used to or tire of. Needless to say, this is the most beautiful fall season I may have ever experienced.
The Byrds said that to everything, there is a season (I suppose I should also attribute this to the Bible, but personally the Byrds are more appealing.) Fall is typically the season of change, as signaled by cooler temperatures, transforming leaves, the beginning of a new school year, Election Day, and more. While I doubt that any more change takes place in fall as opposed to any other time of the year, it seems that I am much more aware of these changes in me. This only occurred to me as I was driving to church yesterday morning, and serendipitiously the pastor spoke of change in his self-titled Election Sermon. Apparently it is tradition in some New England churches for the pastor, reverend, whatever, to preach about elections in some form or fashion before any major election. My Northwest Rev. Jon Luopa also felt the need to expound on elections, change, his recent trip to Transylvania, Erik Erikson, Richard Rorty, Cicero, and the need for greater caring throughout the world. I'll try to summarize as concisely and clearly as possible:
This election year seem to be all about change -- one candidate is calling for the status quo, as typically does the candidate's representative political party, while the other party and its candidate espouse change. Historically, this has always been the case. However, at this point more than any other in arguably the past 30 years, this country and the world are going to experience more change than ever before. What most of the world is hoping is that we will grow with this change and learn from our past mistakes, much as adolescents do. Erik Erikson defined these different stages of growth, and adolescence is known as the period of identity crises and the development of the superego. (I'm generally a skeptic for psychology and especially for putting people in phases, but for take of this piece lets just assume Erikson's stages are somewhat accurate.)Unfortunately, the rest of the world (as Erikson's adults) sees the United States in such a stage -- they love our pop culture, our independence, and general culture, but could do without our selfishness, insecurity, and lack of caring for others. One Transylvanian got in a conversation with Luopa about the election, and commented that most Americans don't realize that we are not just electing a new President, but also a world leader. Our foreign policies, economy, and legal system affect the global population -- and here most Americans are worrying about if we will ever be able to retire comfortably, or focusing on putting millions of dollars into banning marriages of love. No wonder the rest of the world finds us wasteful and self-absorbed. Erikson's next stage of growth is adulthood, which is mainly defined by the phrase "caring for others." In order to reach adulthood, one truly needs to learn what it means to care for others -- physically, mentally, emotionally, economically, psychologically, and so on. For the past eight years, the US has made it clear that it does not want to reach out to the rest of the globe. The opposite of caring is neglect, and as a nation, we have neglected the world for years through basically ignoring genocide in Darfur, allowing children even in our own nation to die of starvation, and much much more. We must soon realize that we are not a nation with bars, a gated community unconnected from other nationalities. Though we have neighborhoods that are supposedly protected, how much does that wall really keep the realities of the outside from permeating through? We have to realize that we are a part of a global community, and we are only a small part of it. Even the Roman general Scipio, almost 2,000 years ago, noted in a dream that he recalled to then Emperor Cicero, that individuals and nations are but a speck in the timeline of the Earth and the universe. This is certainly as true now as it was then. If we ever are to grow into a nation that acts as adults in caring for one another, human being to human being, we must elect leaders, and most importantly, become leaders in our own communities, who truly care.
I hope this summary did his sermon justice, because it was by far the most moving and persuasive piece of writing I have ever heard. It seems though that this event is only a chunk of many different experiences I’ve had for the past week where I find myself saying, “I want to stop right now and just write and feel this moment.” It’s as if I’m filming different scenes for a story – a foggy sunrise at rocky Cama Beach, my boss accidentally rolling the shoe of our service partner with bright Disney-red paint, progressing from nights where the sun never really sets to mornings where it seems it will stay black and gray all day, the Americorps launch, where one speaker noted, “Dreams may be delayed, but they cannot be denied”, traipsing around Capitol Hill, Madrona, Madison Park, and the CD for the best coffee and pastries in town, viewing the east side of Lake Washington from Madrona Park on a clear day, raucous laughter and impaired walking 25 blocks in the middle of the night to the nearest bus stop home, hearing the adorable and awkward beginnings of friendships between the middle schoolers in my program, my attempts (sometimes in vain) to make connections with people on the opposite side of the US than my heart – and somehow, someway, they will all come together to produce something beneficial and much needed in me, something unnamed that I came here to find. For me, fall is simply the acknowledgement of my new escapades, and no matter how much I try to fight it, some things about myself and the life around me are going to change. This is not a new concept to me, but it is the first time I've cognitively noted any acceptance of this fact, which is a step in a personally uncharted and untroubled direction.
But enough of that. For now, I shall entertain you with this very silly picture of myself as Sarah Palin and my roommate Kerry as Bjork, for a recent Halloween party. No full body shot, but I do have the typical older-lady updo and bangs sweep, as well as a lapel pin! (Do your best to ignore the slightly off-kilter glasses. Perhaps that’s how you know I haven’t turned into a true, straight-laced Republican.)
Peace,
Corey
The Byrds said that to everything, there is a season (I suppose I should also attribute this to the Bible, but personally the Byrds are more appealing.) Fall is typically the season of change, as signaled by cooler temperatures, transforming leaves, the beginning of a new school year, Election Day, and more. While I doubt that any more change takes place in fall as opposed to any other time of the year, it seems that I am much more aware of these changes in me. This only occurred to me as I was driving to church yesterday morning, and serendipitiously the pastor spoke of change in his self-titled Election Sermon. Apparently it is tradition in some New England churches for the pastor, reverend, whatever, to preach about elections in some form or fashion before any major election. My Northwest Rev. Jon Luopa also felt the need to expound on elections, change, his recent trip to Transylvania, Erik Erikson, Richard Rorty, Cicero, and the need for greater caring throughout the world. I'll try to summarize as concisely and clearly as possible:
This election year seem to be all about change -- one candidate is calling for the status quo, as typically does the candidate's representative political party, while the other party and its candidate espouse change. Historically, this has always been the case. However, at this point more than any other in arguably the past 30 years, this country and the world are going to experience more change than ever before. What most of the world is hoping is that we will grow with this change and learn from our past mistakes, much as adolescents do. Erik Erikson defined these different stages of growth, and adolescence is known as the period of identity crises and the development of the superego. (I'm generally a skeptic for psychology and especially for putting people in phases, but for take of this piece lets just assume Erikson's stages are somewhat accurate.)Unfortunately, the rest of the world (as Erikson's adults) sees the United States in such a stage -- they love our pop culture, our independence, and general culture, but could do without our selfishness, insecurity, and lack of caring for others. One Transylvanian got in a conversation with Luopa about the election, and commented that most Americans don't realize that we are not just electing a new President, but also a world leader. Our foreign policies, economy, and legal system affect the global population -- and here most Americans are worrying about if we will ever be able to retire comfortably, or focusing on putting millions of dollars into banning marriages of love. No wonder the rest of the world finds us wasteful and self-absorbed. Erikson's next stage of growth is adulthood, which is mainly defined by the phrase "caring for others." In order to reach adulthood, one truly needs to learn what it means to care for others -- physically, mentally, emotionally, economically, psychologically, and so on. For the past eight years, the US has made it clear that it does not want to reach out to the rest of the globe. The opposite of caring is neglect, and as a nation, we have neglected the world for years through basically ignoring genocide in Darfur, allowing children even in our own nation to die of starvation, and much much more. We must soon realize that we are not a nation with bars, a gated community unconnected from other nationalities. Though we have neighborhoods that are supposedly protected, how much does that wall really keep the realities of the outside from permeating through? We have to realize that we are a part of a global community, and we are only a small part of it. Even the Roman general Scipio, almost 2,000 years ago, noted in a dream that he recalled to then Emperor Cicero, that individuals and nations are but a speck in the timeline of the Earth and the universe. This is certainly as true now as it was then. If we ever are to grow into a nation that acts as adults in caring for one another, human being to human being, we must elect leaders, and most importantly, become leaders in our own communities, who truly care.
I hope this summary did his sermon justice, because it was by far the most moving and persuasive piece of writing I have ever heard. It seems though that this event is only a chunk of many different experiences I’ve had for the past week where I find myself saying, “I want to stop right now and just write and feel this moment.” It’s as if I’m filming different scenes for a story – a foggy sunrise at rocky Cama Beach, my boss accidentally rolling the shoe of our service partner with bright Disney-red paint, progressing from nights where the sun never really sets to mornings where it seems it will stay black and gray all day, the Americorps launch, where one speaker noted, “Dreams may be delayed, but they cannot be denied”, traipsing around Capitol Hill, Madrona, Madison Park, and the CD for the best coffee and pastries in town, viewing the east side of Lake Washington from Madrona Park on a clear day, raucous laughter and impaired walking 25 blocks in the middle of the night to the nearest bus stop home, hearing the adorable and awkward beginnings of friendships between the middle schoolers in my program, my attempts (sometimes in vain) to make connections with people on the opposite side of the US than my heart – and somehow, someway, they will all come together to produce something beneficial and much needed in me, something unnamed that I came here to find. For me, fall is simply the acknowledgement of my new escapades, and no matter how much I try to fight it, some things about myself and the life around me are going to change. This is not a new concept to me, but it is the first time I've cognitively noted any acceptance of this fact, which is a step in a personally uncharted and untroubled direction.
But enough of that. For now, I shall entertain you with this very silly picture of myself as Sarah Palin and my roommate Kerry as Bjork, for a recent Halloween party. No full body shot, but I do have the typical older-lady updo and bangs sweep, as well as a lapel pin! (Do your best to ignore the slightly off-kilter glasses. Perhaps that’s how you know I haven’t turned into a true, straight-laced Republican.)
Peace,
Corey
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
quick October update
Most mornings I wake up as late as possible -- note, it's still dark outside up here at 6:45 AM in October, though I felt like it never got truly black here in July and August -- and the first thing I do is pick up my computer and do about a ten minute check of my blogs and New York Times opinion columns. Once I realize how slow my computer is, I get up, turn on the coffee maker, and pour myself some cereal. The recent delicious find, and cheapest find at the nearby Grocery Outlet, is Wild Animal Crunch.
It has vanilla and chocolate-swirled goodness shaped in the form of bears, turtles, and some other 4-legged animal. Yes, I bought the one with the meerkats in the front, in part due to my past obsession with Meerkat Manor.
I usually crawl back in my nice, warm bed with my delicious cereal in hand and read all the websites that loaded during my absence. Monday morning, I came across this image:
I slowly chewed on the sweet, crunchy mush substance in my mouth and felt kind of guilty. That cat just looked so much like the meerkat on my cereal box, and now I was eating the manifestation of its wild animal posse in sugary rice form. Monday morning guilt trip!
I want to be writing more in this blog, but logging 56 and 60 hour weeks doesn't allow for much else to be done. I will say that I'm taking a french class, got my bike road ready, gained a space heater in my room, am learning more street slang than I ever imagined existed, played basketball with a bunch of male co-workers, went solo to a Ben Kweller concert, and am exploring my future opportunities. Hopefully I'll go hiking more this weekend and I'll have more relevant pictures to post, but for now my bed is my favorite cuddle buddy.
It has vanilla and chocolate-swirled goodness shaped in the form of bears, turtles, and some other 4-legged animal. Yes, I bought the one with the meerkats in the front, in part due to my past obsession with Meerkat Manor.
I usually crawl back in my nice, warm bed with my delicious cereal in hand and read all the websites that loaded during my absence. Monday morning, I came across this image:
I slowly chewed on the sweet, crunchy mush substance in my mouth and felt kind of guilty. That cat just looked so much like the meerkat on my cereal box, and now I was eating the manifestation of its wild animal posse in sugary rice form. Monday morning guilt trip!
I want to be writing more in this blog, but logging 56 and 60 hour weeks doesn't allow for much else to be done. I will say that I'm taking a french class, got my bike road ready, gained a space heater in my room, am learning more street slang than I ever imagined existed, played basketball with a bunch of male co-workers, went solo to a Ben Kweller concert, and am exploring my future opportunities. Hopefully I'll go hiking more this weekend and I'll have more relevant pictures to post, but for now my bed is my favorite cuddle buddy.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Sex and the City Cliche. But it's true.
About a month ago, I found myself driving back from a team retreat singing Lauryn Hill in an attempt to bond with my co-workers. Along that ride, I glanced out my driver's side window and found a cute little spider dangling from my side view mirror. As the car sped up, the spider soon took notice and huddled itself in between the mirror and the light blue plastic Pearl, my car, is named for. I found him once more today after my UU service, and I have to say I was impressed and really happy to see him!
However, the tiny red/brown flies that seem to have swarmed my kitchen are not so welcome. Despite the seeming lack of sustenance left out, they seem to multiply exponentially every time I enter the kitchen. I could hear Kerry swatting hopelessly at them, muttering angrily at them to get out of her homemade organic pumpkin scones (which, by the way, were delicious! We shared one after returning from a vegan pizza hole-in-the-wall named Pizza Pi in the U-District, the neighborhood just north across the water from mine (and where the University of Washington, or "U-Dub", lies.) Not only does every block have a bit of UW purple, but it's full of coffee shops, a second-hand bookstore, American Apparel, and many other random shops and such. Too lovely! But too bad I don't live there.
My house is actually quite lovely, if noisy. I live with three other girls -- one, Kerry, is a co-worker, and the other two, Cortney and Jaime, are UW med students. They are all mostly vegetarians who enjoy buying organic, which as you might imagine is a bit of a stretch for me. I wonder what they think of my cheap frozen waffles and hamburger meat in the freezer! Even though I don't really fit into their lifestyle, they are patient with me when I ask how to cook non-instant rice and what herbs would go well with my chicken. Kerry just graduated from UMass-Lowell and the other two are a bit older than us -- 26 and 30, respectively. It's really nice to have their perspective and influence in the house. Even though I feel like I've lived on my own for a few years, there is nothing like moving to a new city and feeling so lost that you don't even know where to buy socks. I also live with a large, but cute mutt named Kingston and am currently dogsitting a patchy brown lab named Moose. Moose also happens to be blind in one eye, which is also sunken in a bit and a bit...oozy. He means well, but he's a bit slow, and likes to follow Kingston's lead of barking at random noises outside in the middle of the night, which is incredibly annoying. Though I think he's adorable, I'll be happy when he's gone.
They're nice couch companions, though. As I type, Kingston's frigid nose is nuzzling my thigh in hopes of a belly rub. I cannot wait until I go to school again, where I will (hopefully) have a more flexible schedule and then can get a puppy. There is nothing like coming home to a harsh bark followed by a kiss on the palm! Then cooking a delicious dinner as he paces back and forth, claws tapping the wood floor, listening to NPR or whatever other podcast I have running, and then settling down to write, read, or mess around on my keyboard. That's what most of my nights consist of, and I have to say it's not a bad way to live. Work, however, could use lots of changes. I never wanted to be that person who just looks forward to getting home after work, or who dreamed of the weekend, but it seems that at least for the next nine months, I will be that person. While I hate admitting that, I don't really mind as much as I did when I first realized that fact. At the very least, it gives me the opportunity to explore Seattle and get to know others on my own terms. Plus, the main reason I came to Seattle was to find what it is I'm interested in and meant to do without the influences of others, and if I was too busy going out with work friends and making those close connections, I fear that my goal could be lost. Perhaps I'm just being selfish -- perhaps I need to be. But for now,
"...it's comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart, and if you're very lucky, just a plane ride away."
However, the tiny red/brown flies that seem to have swarmed my kitchen are not so welcome. Despite the seeming lack of sustenance left out, they seem to multiply exponentially every time I enter the kitchen. I could hear Kerry swatting hopelessly at them, muttering angrily at them to get out of her homemade organic pumpkin scones (which, by the way, were delicious! We shared one after returning from a vegan pizza hole-in-the-wall named Pizza Pi in the U-District, the neighborhood just north across the water from mine (and where the University of Washington, or "U-Dub", lies.) Not only does every block have a bit of UW purple, but it's full of coffee shops, a second-hand bookstore, American Apparel, and many other random shops and such. Too lovely! But too bad I don't live there.
My house is actually quite lovely, if noisy. I live with three other girls -- one, Kerry, is a co-worker, and the other two, Cortney and Jaime, are UW med students. They are all mostly vegetarians who enjoy buying organic, which as you might imagine is a bit of a stretch for me. I wonder what they think of my cheap frozen waffles and hamburger meat in the freezer! Even though I don't really fit into their lifestyle, they are patient with me when I ask how to cook non-instant rice and what herbs would go well with my chicken. Kerry just graduated from UMass-Lowell and the other two are a bit older than us -- 26 and 30, respectively. It's really nice to have their perspective and influence in the house. Even though I feel like I've lived on my own for a few years, there is nothing like moving to a new city and feeling so lost that you don't even know where to buy socks. I also live with a large, but cute mutt named Kingston and am currently dogsitting a patchy brown lab named Moose. Moose also happens to be blind in one eye, which is also sunken in a bit and a bit...oozy. He means well, but he's a bit slow, and likes to follow Kingston's lead of barking at random noises outside in the middle of the night, which is incredibly annoying. Though I think he's adorable, I'll be happy when he's gone.
They're nice couch companions, though. As I type, Kingston's frigid nose is nuzzling my thigh in hopes of a belly rub. I cannot wait until I go to school again, where I will (hopefully) have a more flexible schedule and then can get a puppy. There is nothing like coming home to a harsh bark followed by a kiss on the palm! Then cooking a delicious dinner as he paces back and forth, claws tapping the wood floor, listening to NPR or whatever other podcast I have running, and then settling down to write, read, or mess around on my keyboard. That's what most of my nights consist of, and I have to say it's not a bad way to live. Work, however, could use lots of changes. I never wanted to be that person who just looks forward to getting home after work, or who dreamed of the weekend, but it seems that at least for the next nine months, I will be that person. While I hate admitting that, I don't really mind as much as I did when I first realized that fact. At the very least, it gives me the opportunity to explore Seattle and get to know others on my own terms. Plus, the main reason I came to Seattle was to find what it is I'm interested in and meant to do without the influences of others, and if I was too busy going out with work friends and making those close connections, I fear that my goal could be lost. Perhaps I'm just being selfish -- perhaps I need to be. But for now,
"...it's comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart, and if you're very lucky, just a plane ride away."
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Time to Pretend
I woke up this morning to sunshine blaring through my window, and the repulsive gunk of last night on my tongue. Ugh. I immediately wished I had stayed in last night rather than gone out dancing with some co-workers (more about that later) and maging to peel myself out of bed at 7:00 AM and ferry over to the Olympic mountain range.
I rolled over and fell asleep instead.
Honestly, I don't feel too guilty about missing out on hiking this weekend. I've gone on 3 hikes in the past 4 weekends and forsaken possible co-worker bonding time to do so. (And, as seen in the picture below, perhaps my dignity.)
What can I say -- I was ecstatic that I could climb 4,000 feet in 4 miles.
Luckily for me, when I finally awoke a couple of hours later, it was overcast once again outside. Seattle's weather is just as unpredictable as the locals forecast. One of my corps members, Fadumo, told me that most mornings start out nice and sunny and then by 10 or 11 it's cloudy and spitting rain. By the time the sun sets, the clouds want to go away again. It's a pattern I find myself getting more and more used to, much like my pattern of practically free-basing a couple of cups of coffee with a splash of half and half about 10 minutes after waking up. I never thought I would actually enjoy big people coffee, but in my currently non-thermostat controlled house, it's nice to have a warm mug for my hands and my belly.
Eventually I got myself together and headed out for Seattle Center. I lost my bus pass and ID last night (oops) and managed to find my ID after searching the dance floor and talking with the club owner, JD, who was searching for "Tennessee" for the past 25 minutes. At any rate, my bus pass was gone so I decided to walk the 3 miles to the Experience Music Project and Science Fiction Museum (EMP/SFM). Seattle Center holds lots of different attractions -- EMP/SFM, the Space Needle, a monorail, cheesy carnival attractions, huge fountain, etc. etc., and today with a special coupon from the Smithsonian Magazine, you could get into the EMP/SFM for free. As an Americorps member, I have to say that I'm getting pretty good at finding things to do around town that are cheap to free, mainly because if I want to be entertained, I have to do it at a very minimal price.
The inside of the EMP -- "If VI was IX", inspired by none other than Jimi Hendrix.
Going in was way more rewarding than simply taking pictures of the place. Right now they have a Jimi Hendrix exhibit as well as one documenting the importance of the Seattle music scene in the past 100 years. (Jimi Hendrix grew up in the Central District, the neighborhood next to mine. There used to be a huge jazz scene down there, but it's mostly residential and fairly shady now. And the Wailers and Heart were all founded here! AND in the 80's posting signs about shows, punk ones in particular, was banned in Seattle?!!?) But the neatest part was seeing the timeline of Hendrix against everything else that was going on in the world -- Vietnam, the civil rights and feminist movements, the remnants of McCarthy -- put me back in freshman year in Trabold's FLA II class. I miss it. More than anything, it made me wonder what is going to define this past decade -- 9/11 for sure, possibly Iraq, rising oil price along with a declining global economy, and our ridiculous President, and if what my employers wish comes to pass, community organization and citizen action to promote democracy. It's disappointing that I couldn't truly think of something amazing and defining in a positive manner that would come out of the past ten years. Suggestions, anyone? Perhaps rise of the internet memes?
SFM managed to warm my heart after learning hooks to various popular songs in the ("Walk This Way", "Zero", "Rock Lobster".) I grew up watching Star Wars and Star Trek on a fairly regular basis, and got used to Ross sitting around reading Issac Asimov and Frank Herbert while I tried to annoy him with my dolls and tea sets. (Yes, I owned both as a child -- I hope that comment didn't throw you off guard!) As such, I have this ingrained love of sci-fi in my heart, and just visiting the place made me feel almost at home. One traveling exhibit is entitled ROBOTS, which is exactly what it advertises -- a case full of collectible robots.
The museums close earlier on Saturdays, which is disappointing, but I decided to head over to downtown to perhaps grab a slice of pizza and shop for a much needed larger purse. Now, I've never been a purse kind of gal -- I am prone to losing things, and when all my important things are in one place, I get scared that I will lose all of them at once. Plus, it's another thing to coordinate with an outfit (and despite my XX chromosomes, I really don't like trying to match things up in the morning) and it's tough to find one that is suitable for all occasions (gym, bar hopping, casual date.) Naturally, I didn't find one to my liking or price range, even in the new H&M on 6th and Pike. Until a couple of weeks ago, Seattle didn't have one H&M, and now we have two. Joy!
On my walk to downtown, I passed by Belltown, a pretty yuppie and broseph-filled area of town at night. I was aware of its reputation, particularly on the weekends, but Friday night I figured I should give it a try. Since my co-workers like it, I probably would as well. While the company was great, the locale was just as sketchy as I assumed. Picture typical clubs in movies – curvy, wildly-colored couches, brass chandeliers, the stench of Axe and Curve permeating the air, the thump of radio rap with the occasional DJ scratch, and guys persisting on dancing with you and your friends. I guess that’s why most people go out to clubs like this – to get their grind on – but that’s just not my scene. Perhaps I should have expected as much out of a place named Twilight. Dancing with the girls was fun though, and even though we visited another place called Belltown Billiards (picture Two Keys, except filled with people in their mid 20’s-mid 30’s,) and as such I still felt mildly uncomfortable. I attempted to picture myself at a sorority or fraternity function, but at least at those you generally know who is going to be there and are generally safe from being chatted up by someone you don’t particularly want to talk with. I doubt I’ll be back, but it was nice to experience something outside my comfort zone.
After shopping around downtown I decided to head back home for the night via bus. The splurge to not have to walk back up Capitol Hill was totally worth it, particularly since my bus passes right by a Trader Joe’s, which is a good excuse to stop by and grab the essentials – bananas, chips and pineapple salsa, fresh spinach, milk, sliced turkey, a bottle of 3 buck Chuck, and Clif bars – before catching the next bus home. All in all, I loved spending a lazy night in after a decent walk around town.
The next morning I awoke to hammering outside my house, despite it being the day of rest. Luckily, I was already planning on visiting a church. Yes, a part of me misses the routine of a weekly service, and this past week I did some research and found a pretty liberal denomination that I felt would fit with me – Universalist Unitarian. It’s known as a fairly liberal faith, accepting wisdom from all different worldly religions, and is one of the few demoninations to declare their support of LGBT attendance and ordination. However, I was a bit scared that it would be a crazy hippie church. After a quick shower and an episode of The West Wing, I got out of the door in time to make it to the 11:15 service. The Reverend Alicia Grace spoke today with inspiring stories about her experience at the San Francisco Theological Seminary. She met one seemingly closed-off pastor from the East Coast, a woman who was fired from her church in Nigeria for publicly declaring her support of birth control, and a Catholic nun who expressed she was all “churched-out” and was planning to attend the Church of the Closed Eyelids on Sunday morning. She mentioned that UUs don’t actively proselytize, particularly regarding “saving” people and leading them to the Lord, which was a relief. The warmth of having a faith atmosphere and routine was nice to have in my life again, and I know that I’ll be attending again soon. Hopefully I’ll start to find more and more of a routine as I continue to settle into the Northwest lifestyle.
I rolled over and fell asleep instead.
Honestly, I don't feel too guilty about missing out on hiking this weekend. I've gone on 3 hikes in the past 4 weekends and forsaken possible co-worker bonding time to do so. (And, as seen in the picture below, perhaps my dignity.)
What can I say -- I was ecstatic that I could climb 4,000 feet in 4 miles.
Luckily for me, when I finally awoke a couple of hours later, it was overcast once again outside. Seattle's weather is just as unpredictable as the locals forecast. One of my corps members, Fadumo, told me that most mornings start out nice and sunny and then by 10 or 11 it's cloudy and spitting rain. By the time the sun sets, the clouds want to go away again. It's a pattern I find myself getting more and more used to, much like my pattern of practically free-basing a couple of cups of coffee with a splash of half and half about 10 minutes after waking up. I never thought I would actually enjoy big people coffee, but in my currently non-thermostat controlled house, it's nice to have a warm mug for my hands and my belly.
Eventually I got myself together and headed out for Seattle Center. I lost my bus pass and ID last night (oops) and managed to find my ID after searching the dance floor and talking with the club owner, JD, who was searching for "Tennessee" for the past 25 minutes. At any rate, my bus pass was gone so I decided to walk the 3 miles to the Experience Music Project and Science Fiction Museum (EMP/SFM). Seattle Center holds lots of different attractions -- EMP/SFM, the Space Needle, a monorail, cheesy carnival attractions, huge fountain, etc. etc., and today with a special coupon from the Smithsonian Magazine, you could get into the EMP/SFM for free. As an Americorps member, I have to say that I'm getting pretty good at finding things to do around town that are cheap to free, mainly because if I want to be entertained, I have to do it at a very minimal price.
The inside of the EMP -- "If VI was IX", inspired by none other than Jimi Hendrix.
Going in was way more rewarding than simply taking pictures of the place. Right now they have a Jimi Hendrix exhibit as well as one documenting the importance of the Seattle music scene in the past 100 years. (Jimi Hendrix grew up in the Central District, the neighborhood next to mine. There used to be a huge jazz scene down there, but it's mostly residential and fairly shady now. And the Wailers and Heart were all founded here! AND in the 80's posting signs about shows, punk ones in particular, was banned in Seattle?!!?) But the neatest part was seeing the timeline of Hendrix against everything else that was going on in the world -- Vietnam, the civil rights and feminist movements, the remnants of McCarthy -- put me back in freshman year in Trabold's FLA II class. I miss it. More than anything, it made me wonder what is going to define this past decade -- 9/11 for sure, possibly Iraq, rising oil price along with a declining global economy, and our ridiculous President, and if what my employers wish comes to pass, community organization and citizen action to promote democracy. It's disappointing that I couldn't truly think of something amazing and defining in a positive manner that would come out of the past ten years. Suggestions, anyone? Perhaps rise of the internet memes?
SFM managed to warm my heart after learning hooks to various popular songs in the ("Walk This Way", "Zero", "Rock Lobster".) I grew up watching Star Wars and Star Trek on a fairly regular basis, and got used to Ross sitting around reading Issac Asimov and Frank Herbert while I tried to annoy him with my dolls and tea sets. (Yes, I owned both as a child -- I hope that comment didn't throw you off guard!) As such, I have this ingrained love of sci-fi in my heart, and just visiting the place made me feel almost at home. One traveling exhibit is entitled ROBOTS, which is exactly what it advertises -- a case full of collectible robots.
The museums close earlier on Saturdays, which is disappointing, but I decided to head over to downtown to perhaps grab a slice of pizza and shop for a much needed larger purse. Now, I've never been a purse kind of gal -- I am prone to losing things, and when all my important things are in one place, I get scared that I will lose all of them at once. Plus, it's another thing to coordinate with an outfit (and despite my XX chromosomes, I really don't like trying to match things up in the morning) and it's tough to find one that is suitable for all occasions (gym, bar hopping, casual date.) Naturally, I didn't find one to my liking or price range, even in the new H&M on 6th and Pike. Until a couple of weeks ago, Seattle didn't have one H&M, and now we have two. Joy!
On my walk to downtown, I passed by Belltown, a pretty yuppie and broseph-filled area of town at night. I was aware of its reputation, particularly on the weekends, but Friday night I figured I should give it a try. Since my co-workers like it, I probably would as well. While the company was great, the locale was just as sketchy as I assumed. Picture typical clubs in movies – curvy, wildly-colored couches, brass chandeliers, the stench of Axe and Curve permeating the air, the thump of radio rap with the occasional DJ scratch, and guys persisting on dancing with you and your friends. I guess that’s why most people go out to clubs like this – to get their grind on – but that’s just not my scene. Perhaps I should have expected as much out of a place named Twilight. Dancing with the girls was fun though, and even though we visited another place called Belltown Billiards (picture Two Keys, except filled with people in their mid 20’s-mid 30’s,) and as such I still felt mildly uncomfortable. I attempted to picture myself at a sorority or fraternity function, but at least at those you generally know who is going to be there and are generally safe from being chatted up by someone you don’t particularly want to talk with. I doubt I’ll be back, but it was nice to experience something outside my comfort zone.
After shopping around downtown I decided to head back home for the night via bus. The splurge to not have to walk back up Capitol Hill was totally worth it, particularly since my bus passes right by a Trader Joe’s, which is a good excuse to stop by and grab the essentials – bananas, chips and pineapple salsa, fresh spinach, milk, sliced turkey, a bottle of 3 buck Chuck, and Clif bars – before catching the next bus home. All in all, I loved spending a lazy night in after a decent walk around town.
The next morning I awoke to hammering outside my house, despite it being the day of rest. Luckily, I was already planning on visiting a church. Yes, a part of me misses the routine of a weekly service, and this past week I did some research and found a pretty liberal denomination that I felt would fit with me – Universalist Unitarian. It’s known as a fairly liberal faith, accepting wisdom from all different worldly religions, and is one of the few demoninations to declare their support of LGBT attendance and ordination. However, I was a bit scared that it would be a crazy hippie church. After a quick shower and an episode of The West Wing, I got out of the door in time to make it to the 11:15 service. The Reverend Alicia Grace spoke today with inspiring stories about her experience at the San Francisco Theological Seminary. She met one seemingly closed-off pastor from the East Coast, a woman who was fired from her church in Nigeria for publicly declaring her support of birth control, and a Catholic nun who expressed she was all “churched-out” and was planning to attend the Church of the Closed Eyelids on Sunday morning. She mentioned that UUs don’t actively proselytize, particularly regarding “saving” people and leading them to the Lord, which was a relief. The warmth of having a faith atmosphere and routine was nice to have in my life again, and I know that I’ll be attending again soon. Hopefully I’ll start to find more and more of a routine as I continue to settle into the Northwest lifestyle.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Okkervil River diary style, inspired by Georgia Nicolson and Jessica Darling.
Having a blackberry comes with its perks. For instance, I was able to record my mental notes during the Okkervil River concert I attended at The Showbox last night. Here they are, mainly uncensored:
10:32 PM: Birkenstocks and sparkles never mix. Otherwise, I feel at home in this white bread, mildly yuppie crowd.
10:40 PM: Does a band like this really need to appear amidst smoke and dimmed lights? And then open with Savannah Smiles? Please.
10:53 PM: Perhaps I should have noticed there are 6 people in this band before I figured out the lead singer was playing a Taylor Big Baby. Ah well. I blame Transy and Mallory for the strong vodka tonic in my non-texting hand hindering my observational skills.
11:02 PM: Moved to the main floor from the 21+ area. Not sure if that odor is pot or the general stench of unwashed Seattleites.
11:06 PM: The light shines on the disco ball during this new song, and despite the more mature crowd the reflections somehow make me recollect middle school birthday parties in roller rinks. I bet every indie dude in here liked the roller rink as a kid.
11:09 PM: Oh who am I kidding, the imperfect o's look like doughnuts to me, which makes me giggle. And crave doughnuts.
11:18 PM: This cover of "Sloop John B" totally makes up for the underwhelming intro.
11:24 PM: The bathroom stall door just opened accidentally on me. No worries, because everyone is enthralled by this solo song by the lead singer. My feet hurt too badly and my bladder is too full to enjoy his emo wails.
11:28 PM: Great, I have the hiccups. All the hot emo boys love southern, hiccuping girls. Wait...where are the emo boys? The man standing in front of me has a popped collar! Noooooo...
11:53 PM: Double-time clapping to "Our Life is not a Movie or Maybe." Cool.
11:58 PM: Ended with "Unless it's Kicks," my personal favorite! Can't wait for the encore...must catch a bus.
12:10 PM: At the 4th and Pike stop, freezing my ass off because I forgot a jacket of any kind. Real smart, Corey. The 43 to my house is a block away, lights blinking frantically, making me assume I better catch a taxi or find another stop. Oh wait...it's coming! Hurrah! Another fine night in Seattle, especially considering I don't have to be at work until 10 tomorrow. w00t.
12:21 PM: I'm officially freaked out. I am sure I had a dream where I read the word "carotid" while going around a dark corner at night on a bus. Well, it just happened in real life. No wonder I'm having a career mindfuck -- clearly, I'm meant to be a psychic.
10:32 PM: Birkenstocks and sparkles never mix. Otherwise, I feel at home in this white bread, mildly yuppie crowd.
10:40 PM: Does a band like this really need to appear amidst smoke and dimmed lights? And then open with Savannah Smiles? Please.
10:53 PM: Perhaps I should have noticed there are 6 people in this band before I figured out the lead singer was playing a Taylor Big Baby. Ah well. I blame Transy and Mallory for the strong vodka tonic in my non-texting hand hindering my observational skills.
11:02 PM: Moved to the main floor from the 21+ area. Not sure if that odor is pot or the general stench of unwashed Seattleites.
11:06 PM: The light shines on the disco ball during this new song, and despite the more mature crowd the reflections somehow make me recollect middle school birthday parties in roller rinks. I bet every indie dude in here liked the roller rink as a kid.
11:09 PM: Oh who am I kidding, the imperfect o's look like doughnuts to me, which makes me giggle. And crave doughnuts.
11:18 PM: This cover of "Sloop John B" totally makes up for the underwhelming intro.
11:24 PM: The bathroom stall door just opened accidentally on me. No worries, because everyone is enthralled by this solo song by the lead singer. My feet hurt too badly and my bladder is too full to enjoy his emo wails.
11:28 PM: Great, I have the hiccups. All the hot emo boys love southern, hiccuping girls. Wait...where are the emo boys? The man standing in front of me has a popped collar! Noooooo...
11:53 PM: Double-time clapping to "Our Life is not a Movie or Maybe." Cool.
11:58 PM: Ended with "Unless it's Kicks," my personal favorite! Can't wait for the encore...must catch a bus.
12:10 PM: At the 4th and Pike stop, freezing my ass off because I forgot a jacket of any kind. Real smart, Corey. The 43 to my house is a block away, lights blinking frantically, making me assume I better catch a taxi or find another stop. Oh wait...it's coming! Hurrah! Another fine night in Seattle, especially considering I don't have to be at work until 10 tomorrow. w00t.
12:21 PM: I'm officially freaked out. I am sure I had a dream where I read the word "carotid" while going around a dark corner at night on a bus. Well, it just happened in real life. No wonder I'm having a career mindfuck -- clearly, I'm meant to be a psychic.
Friday, September 5, 2008
something for nothing
As someone who essentially performs community organizing with those at the most awkward stage of childhood (read: early adolescence), I can definitely empathize with Barack Obama. Community organizing for practically nothing, which ultimately results in more aware, energized citizens, is beautiful.
Tomorrow: hiking at Mount Rainier (hopefully!) and a no clothes party! wooooooo
Tomorrow: hiking at Mount Rainier (hopefully!) and a no clothes party! wooooooo
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Labor Day Weekend
It's amazing how much obtaining a bed -- not a couch or air mattress -- can change your state of mind. It's even better when it's on loan for free for a year. I don't even care that the platform for the mattress is still at the owner's house and that my mattress is simply sitting on my room floor. I have a bed. I am happy.
Perhaps it's even more appropriate that I'm drinking my $3.00 apple wine from Grocery Outlet (and I thought Trader Joe's was awesome...) and microwaved chicken nuggets while watching podcasts. I feel like I'm reliving what most people would call the college experience, except that I am being meagerly paid for my work, I don't have nearly the same amount of people around me all the time, and there is no caf. I never realized how handy having a cafeteria, Jazzman's, or 1780 is. I could totally use a chocolatey chip muffin right now, by the way. The perfect complement for c-nugs. I still miss brunch c-nugs from the caf...*sigh*.
I promise I was pretty productive today -- my roommate Cortney and I went to get my bed, I went grocery shopping and walked around Madrona, watched UK drill UL in college football (woo CATS!), and drove to get a keyboard. Yes, that's another goal of mine: start playing piano again. The most fun piece I could ever play was some really evil-sounding 3-pager entitled "Tyrannosaurus Rex." I definitely appreciated it more than any Bach or Beethoven piece I learned. The cool part about this keyboard is that I also have the usb/midi hookup for the computer, so I can use Garage Band for the first time (!!!) A nice Yamaha keyboard with stand and usb hookup for 60 bucks. A total steal. If you realize the talent within me, you should apply to be my manager. Resume and 3 references please, and the ability to perhaps play another instrument other than keyboard is preferred.
I also managed to write down all the ideas for a career path for myself. Instead of narrowing the choices, per one of the goals of this move, they've expanded. Not good.
- editor
- physical anthropologist
- physician's assistant
- higher ed
- something outdoorsy
- anything relating to the news, particularly NPR.
- anything related to politics (lobbying?) and not involving me supporting the Republican party.
- writer/journalist
- anything involving me hanging out with nerds.
Yesterday was a less productive day, though probably more exciting. My roommate Kerry and I traveled to Heather Lake in the Mt. Baker - Snoqualmie National Forest. It was only a 4 mile hike in total, but it was chilly and a good bit of the trail was muddy. My fingers re-lived the marching band days by becoming rigid and almost immobile. However, the view was totally worth it.
I also met Alex Albrecht from podcasts Diggnation and Totally Rad Show at a bar in downtown Seattle:
It took a beer for me to gain the confidence to approach him and the swarm of nerds surrounding him. Luckily for me, he was kind, hilarious, and totally natural. We joked around a bit, and then he had more fan dudes to appease. After quickly vacating the bar, I walked around downtown for a bit trying to find the bus to get up to the U-District to hang out with work people -- A night of Scrabble and a 24-ounce PBR. I can't help myself, I'm still reeeeeally cheap. I appreciate a good beer, but on my budget, I'll take what I can get. I did, however, give up the opportunity to see Bon Iver downtown, but I can't attend every cool show that comes around.
Tomorrow = Bumbershooooot!!! I'm seeing a variety of bands...Paramore, Langhorne Slim, Battles, Old 97's, and Death Cab for Cutie. Plus it'll be my first time by the Space Needle -- what better time to be a tourist than among thousands of other tourists?!
Busy busy busy, just as I like it.
Perhaps it's even more appropriate that I'm drinking my $3.00 apple wine from Grocery Outlet (and I thought Trader Joe's was awesome...) and microwaved chicken nuggets while watching podcasts. I feel like I'm reliving what most people would call the college experience, except that I am being meagerly paid for my work, I don't have nearly the same amount of people around me all the time, and there is no caf. I never realized how handy having a cafeteria, Jazzman's, or 1780 is. I could totally use a chocolatey chip muffin right now, by the way. The perfect complement for c-nugs. I still miss brunch c-nugs from the caf...*sigh*.
I promise I was pretty productive today -- my roommate Cortney and I went to get my bed, I went grocery shopping and walked around Madrona, watched UK drill UL in college football (woo CATS!), and drove to get a keyboard. Yes, that's another goal of mine: start playing piano again. The most fun piece I could ever play was some really evil-sounding 3-pager entitled "Tyrannosaurus Rex." I definitely appreciated it more than any Bach or Beethoven piece I learned. The cool part about this keyboard is that I also have the usb/midi hookup for the computer, so I can use Garage Band for the first time (!!!) A nice Yamaha keyboard with stand and usb hookup for 60 bucks. A total steal. If you realize the talent within me, you should apply to be my manager. Resume and 3 references please, and the ability to perhaps play another instrument other than keyboard is preferred.
I also managed to write down all the ideas for a career path for myself. Instead of narrowing the choices, per one of the goals of this move, they've expanded. Not good.
- editor
- physical anthropologist
- physician's assistant
- higher ed
- something outdoorsy
- anything relating to the news, particularly NPR.
- anything related to politics (lobbying?) and not involving me supporting the Republican party.
- writer/journalist
- anything involving me hanging out with nerds.
Yesterday was a less productive day, though probably more exciting. My roommate Kerry and I traveled to Heather Lake in the Mt. Baker - Snoqualmie National Forest. It was only a 4 mile hike in total, but it was chilly and a good bit of the trail was muddy. My fingers re-lived the marching band days by becoming rigid and almost immobile. However, the view was totally worth it.
I also met Alex Albrecht from podcasts Diggnation and Totally Rad Show at a bar in downtown Seattle:
It took a beer for me to gain the confidence to approach him and the swarm of nerds surrounding him. Luckily for me, he was kind, hilarious, and totally natural. We joked around a bit, and then he had more fan dudes to appease. After quickly vacating the bar, I walked around downtown for a bit trying to find the bus to get up to the U-District to hang out with work people -- A night of Scrabble and a 24-ounce PBR. I can't help myself, I'm still reeeeeally cheap. I appreciate a good beer, but on my budget, I'll take what I can get. I did, however, give up the opportunity to see Bon Iver downtown, but I can't attend every cool show that comes around.Tomorrow = Bumbershooooot!!! I'm seeing a variety of bands...Paramore, Langhorne Slim, Battles, Old 97's, and Death Cab for Cutie. Plus it'll be my first time by the Space Needle -- what better time to be a tourist than among thousands of other tourists?!
Busy busy busy, just as I like it.
Monday, August 25, 2008
lazy sunday.
I woke up this morning yet again much too early, but just early enough to be decently productive. Laundry was at the top of my list (joy of joys) right past eating and crawling back into bed to watch Under the Tuscan Sun, a movie I always watch in hopes that it will make me feel better about my general state of loneliness around Seattle.
I need to elaborate on this, because it is part of the reason I moved here. Since high school, at the very least, my top priority has been my friends. Perhaps others my age also feel this way, although they perhaps mean it differently than I do. When I develop a friendship with someone, it’s usually through some sort of common bond – a mutual friend, an appreciation for silly humor, introduction to music that one of us has never heard before, etc. The friendship grows and we find, evolve, or adopt similar interests and just the joy of being around one another.
Here’s my issue. I tend to adopt the interests of friends to such a point that I lose what I like to do entirely. I rarely do anything for the pure satisfaction of the activity itself – I do it because it’s with my friends and loved ones who I care about so much. Thus, when I’m not around those people, I feel generally uninspired, bored, and ultimately alone. Even though I’m in Seattle I know people back home care about me – most of you let me know in some form or fashion about that – but because I’ve lost their physical presence, I also feel incredibly absent, like a part of me is completely gone. Yes, I enjoy walking around, exploring the city, reading a good book or going on that strenuous run, but it’s really nothing unless you have someone awesome to tell about it or share the experience with. While I prepped for the half-marathon purely for my own satisfaction, it was always great to see friends at the Beck Center or at least see them afterwards for a good episode of Grey’s or, the hall favorite, Rock of Love. Sometimes I would take yoga classes with friends, or laugh once I ate Thai food with them and realized I didn’t hate international cuisine after all. There’s a common thread, a common interest, that I never would have developed had I not been friends with the amazing people I’m still friends with.
At work, we learned the concept of Ubuntu, a South African word roughly translated to, “I am because you are.” I would definitely consider my Ubuntu power to be over nine-thousaaaaaand!!!
Somewhere in my learning, probably my very complicated junior year of high school, I figured out that this was not necessarily a good thing. Why? Because people move. Friendships and relationships change. Morals and desires may change, and shock of all shocks, you might change. But you need to have some sort of stable ground to plant your feet on. Even though I have absolutely no psychology background (I used to sneak out of that virtually friendless and endlessly dull high school class daily to – guess what – hang out with Jessie in ceramics conveniently located right down the hall) I can tell you that people are not stable. The most stable people I have in my life are my parents, who seem so ridiculously moored in their lives back home that I’m jealous of their contentment. But I digress. I have to face the fact that someday, they won’t be around either. And when they aren’t, I don’t want to just fall to pieces. (Okay, that seems harsh. But there’s a difference between being very sad and being so depressed you can’t take care of yourself. And no one else will want to take care of you because you are an aging, ornery cat lady who has no desires of her own -- just cats.) I want to have something solid, something that is very much me, something in me that I can depend on whenever I feel lost or alone or just plain bored. I want to find that autonomy and personal contentment that my parents, and so many of my other friends, have. Drive is not my issue – I mean good God, I moved to Seattle of all fucking places to space myself in hopes of finding that solid Corey – it’s the actual product. So far it’s manifesting itself in the following interests: NPR. Cupcakes, especially from Cupcake Royale. Online word puzzles. Tea. Being really cheesy or sarcastic in hopes of making people laugh. Walking aimlessly around downtown, but ultimately ending up at my favorite gelato place on 1st and Pine. Running, though the hills make it incredibly difficult and I mainly use it as a distraction. Trying to have a slight smile on my face in hopes that someone will chat me up. (This was clearly a bad idea on the bus, but mainly I just blame the population that rides the 18.)
Clearly, I lead a very interesting life. This may be because I have been without internet and tv at the house (yes, I missed a great deal of the Olympics, and I am VERY upset about missing it) and, as I’ve said before, enjoy doing anything with friends. It’s a vicious cycle, much like alcoholism or any addiction, I tell you!
But what do I know – again, I never learned anything about psychology. So maybe my plan and logic to come here was completely fucking flawed, which I didn’t realize until this moment. But I’ve received at least a little good advice while I’ve been here – trust yourself. So simple, but at least it makes me feel like I’m here for the right reasons again.
The Feminine Mystique only backs up this claim. Betty Friedan (one of my personal heroes) researched many studies that basically found that once a woman graduated college, she was only at a “halfway point” to completely being autonomous. She needs to grow and find other meaning in life, and a connection and personal importance to society, than her relationships. And in a way, this is what I’m searching for.
Wednesday is a big day – the rest of the corps comes, I give my first big presentation about my civic-leadership-through-service-learning program at a 6th grade orientation, and I get to go to an Avett Brothers concert – phew! But right now, I’m off to see if the house finally has internet. Maybe I’ll get a bit of the normalcy of my life back…sad but true.
I need to elaborate on this, because it is part of the reason I moved here. Since high school, at the very least, my top priority has been my friends. Perhaps others my age also feel this way, although they perhaps mean it differently than I do. When I develop a friendship with someone, it’s usually through some sort of common bond – a mutual friend, an appreciation for silly humor, introduction to music that one of us has never heard before, etc. The friendship grows and we find, evolve, or adopt similar interests and just the joy of being around one another.
Here’s my issue. I tend to adopt the interests of friends to such a point that I lose what I like to do entirely. I rarely do anything for the pure satisfaction of the activity itself – I do it because it’s with my friends and loved ones who I care about so much. Thus, when I’m not around those people, I feel generally uninspired, bored, and ultimately alone. Even though I’m in Seattle I know people back home care about me – most of you let me know in some form or fashion about that – but because I’ve lost their physical presence, I also feel incredibly absent, like a part of me is completely gone. Yes, I enjoy walking around, exploring the city, reading a good book or going on that strenuous run, but it’s really nothing unless you have someone awesome to tell about it or share the experience with. While I prepped for the half-marathon purely for my own satisfaction, it was always great to see friends at the Beck Center or at least see them afterwards for a good episode of Grey’s or, the hall favorite, Rock of Love. Sometimes I would take yoga classes with friends, or laugh once I ate Thai food with them and realized I didn’t hate international cuisine after all. There’s a common thread, a common interest, that I never would have developed had I not been friends with the amazing people I’m still friends with.
At work, we learned the concept of Ubuntu, a South African word roughly translated to, “I am because you are.” I would definitely consider my Ubuntu power to be over nine-thousaaaaaand!!!
Somewhere in my learning, probably my very complicated junior year of high school, I figured out that this was not necessarily a good thing. Why? Because people move. Friendships and relationships change. Morals and desires may change, and shock of all shocks, you might change. But you need to have some sort of stable ground to plant your feet on. Even though I have absolutely no psychology background (I used to sneak out of that virtually friendless and endlessly dull high school class daily to – guess what – hang out with Jessie in ceramics conveniently located right down the hall) I can tell you that people are not stable. The most stable people I have in my life are my parents, who seem so ridiculously moored in their lives back home that I’m jealous of their contentment. But I digress. I have to face the fact that someday, they won’t be around either. And when they aren’t, I don’t want to just fall to pieces. (Okay, that seems harsh. But there’s a difference between being very sad and being so depressed you can’t take care of yourself. And no one else will want to take care of you because you are an aging, ornery cat lady who has no desires of her own -- just cats.) I want to have something solid, something that is very much me, something in me that I can depend on whenever I feel lost or alone or just plain bored. I want to find that autonomy and personal contentment that my parents, and so many of my other friends, have. Drive is not my issue – I mean good God, I moved to Seattle of all fucking places to space myself in hopes of finding that solid Corey – it’s the actual product. So far it’s manifesting itself in the following interests: NPR. Cupcakes, especially from Cupcake Royale. Online word puzzles. Tea. Being really cheesy or sarcastic in hopes of making people laugh. Walking aimlessly around downtown, but ultimately ending up at my favorite gelato place on 1st and Pine. Running, though the hills make it incredibly difficult and I mainly use it as a distraction. Trying to have a slight smile on my face in hopes that someone will chat me up. (This was clearly a bad idea on the bus, but mainly I just blame the population that rides the 18.)
Clearly, I lead a very interesting life. This may be because I have been without internet and tv at the house (yes, I missed a great deal of the Olympics, and I am VERY upset about missing it) and, as I’ve said before, enjoy doing anything with friends. It’s a vicious cycle, much like alcoholism or any addiction, I tell you!
But what do I know – again, I never learned anything about psychology. So maybe my plan and logic to come here was completely fucking flawed, which I didn’t realize until this moment. But I’ve received at least a little good advice while I’ve been here – trust yourself. So simple, but at least it makes me feel like I’m here for the right reasons again.
The Feminine Mystique only backs up this claim. Betty Friedan (one of my personal heroes) researched many studies that basically found that once a woman graduated college, she was only at a “halfway point” to completely being autonomous. She needs to grow and find other meaning in life, and a connection and personal importance to society, than her relationships. And in a way, this is what I’m searching for.
Wednesday is a big day – the rest of the corps comes, I give my first big presentation about my civic-leadership-through-service-learning program at a 6th grade orientation, and I get to go to an Avett Brothers concert – phew! But right now, I’m off to see if the house finally has internet. Maybe I’ll get a bit of the normalcy of my life back…sad but true.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Things I love about Seattle...so far.
Things I love about Seattle (so far):
- My shower. Seriously – it’s the best showerhead I’ve ever had. It’s probably pretty wasteful too – but it shoots out water like a river busts out of a dam just before it bursts. The heater also turns on about 15 seconds after I turn the phallic silver knob (Silver Surfer, anyone?) about 210 degrees, resulting in less water wasted while waiting for the heater to warm the water. This isn’t like a Transy shower that is so clogged with calcium, or lime, or whatever that crummy white stuff is that makes the shower spray in every which direction. Plus, it’s all white, which adds to the general clean feeling I get while scrubbing away the nastiness of my morning run.
- Verite Coffee and Cupcake Royale. Not the most delicious chocolate cupcake (Mo Fro!) or skim latte to grace my oral orifice, but pretty damn close. It’s particularly convenient that it’s located only about a half mile from my house in Madrona. The suck factor is that it’s only open until 8 on weeknights and 6 on Sundays. What’s the point of writing emo things on my hipster Macbook if I can’t do it where people can see how dark and tortured I am?! (Sadly, I’m only half joking. I think it could actually be cool to meet someone in a coffee shop. This is why I’m lame.)
- Water. I’ve always lived in landlocked places, and it’s fascinating to run about three-quarters of a mile from my house to Lake Washington or to go downtown and see Puget Sound full of cruise liners and cargo ships alike. Running sans iPod isn’t really my idea of fun, but having a nice view definitely helps. As busy as Seattle seems to be, it’s soothing to look out onto the water, let everything else turn into white noise, and just enjoy the view for what it is.
- The men in my volleyball referee certification class. Normally I’m not a fan of older men (note the divorced economist from the bus), but these guys were friendly without hitting on me. They actually were excited to be hanging out with someone who has played the game before! Most were old baseball or basketball refs, and because their knees and backs aren’t what they used to be, they’re switching to volleyball officiating. The assignor, a ridiculously friendly guy named Riaz, talked my ear off for thirty minutes after the meeting ended. Even if I can’t meet people my own age outside of City Year, at least I’ll have old men friends.
I promise to write more often, and more descriptively about my daily life and such, once I have internet at the house. I’ve been without readily available cable or internet for over a month, and while it’s encouraged me to take care of other things, I’m definitely ready to get back to my idea of normalcy – a connection to the rest of the world. Until then, I’ll eat my idea of baked deliciousness – the Lavender cupcake (yes, it tastes just like it smells!) and bask in the few warm days left in Seattle.
- My shower. Seriously – it’s the best showerhead I’ve ever had. It’s probably pretty wasteful too – but it shoots out water like a river busts out of a dam just before it bursts. The heater also turns on about 15 seconds after I turn the phallic silver knob (Silver Surfer, anyone?) about 210 degrees, resulting in less water wasted while waiting for the heater to warm the water. This isn’t like a Transy shower that is so clogged with calcium, or lime, or whatever that crummy white stuff is that makes the shower spray in every which direction. Plus, it’s all white, which adds to the general clean feeling I get while scrubbing away the nastiness of my morning run.
- Verite Coffee and Cupcake Royale. Not the most delicious chocolate cupcake (Mo Fro!) or skim latte to grace my oral orifice, but pretty damn close. It’s particularly convenient that it’s located only about a half mile from my house in Madrona. The suck factor is that it’s only open until 8 on weeknights and 6 on Sundays. What’s the point of writing emo things on my hipster Macbook if I can’t do it where people can see how dark and tortured I am?! (Sadly, I’m only half joking. I think it could actually be cool to meet someone in a coffee shop. This is why I’m lame.)
- Water. I’ve always lived in landlocked places, and it’s fascinating to run about three-quarters of a mile from my house to Lake Washington or to go downtown and see Puget Sound full of cruise liners and cargo ships alike. Running sans iPod isn’t really my idea of fun, but having a nice view definitely helps. As busy as Seattle seems to be, it’s soothing to look out onto the water, let everything else turn into white noise, and just enjoy the view for what it is.
- The men in my volleyball referee certification class. Normally I’m not a fan of older men (note the divorced economist from the bus), but these guys were friendly without hitting on me. They actually were excited to be hanging out with someone who has played the game before! Most were old baseball or basketball refs, and because their knees and backs aren’t what they used to be, they’re switching to volleyball officiating. The assignor, a ridiculously friendly guy named Riaz, talked my ear off for thirty minutes after the meeting ended. Even if I can’t meet people my own age outside of City Year, at least I’ll have old men friends.
I promise to write more often, and more descriptively about my daily life and such, once I have internet at the house. I’ve been without readily available cable or internet for over a month, and while it’s encouraged me to take care of other things, I’m definitely ready to get back to my idea of normalcy – a connection to the rest of the world. Until then, I’ll eat my idea of baked deliciousness – the Lavender cupcake (yes, it tastes just like it smells!) and bask in the few warm days left in Seattle.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Be kind to your bus driver.
I'm trying to decide if I'm rightfully annoyed or just need to relax. Being on a bus with retirees is not exactly my idea of a good time -- on the other hand, I'm not exactly making the effort to get to know these happy-go-lucky couples either. A very kind lady named Rona has decided to befriend my family though, and I enjoy every story she has to tell about her past. Despite her cheesy shirt, which depicts Buffalo Bill and stereotypical American western scenery, I think I found an older person I like. Our tour guide, Carlene, feels like she has to talk on the loudspeaker on the bus often enough to wake me up just when I manage to doze off, and she also plays this horribly twangy song called, "Be Kind to your Bus Driver." Gag.
Yesterday was a much better day though -- we went on a cruise in Prince William Sound and saw orcas, sea lions, a sea otter, and a humpback whale! We cruised to Columbia Glacier, a rapidly declining glacier in terms of length, while scanning the waters for the aforementioned sea critters. Hanging out on the bow of the ship while by the glacier was cold enough, but when the ship started to cruise around 16 knots my ears began to numb up and I had to head inside. Three cups of tea and two cups of "Russian Tea" (Tang, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, etc.) kept me warm. Cute moment of the day: a 5th-grader named Megan decided to be my Mom's friend. With a cool, confident attitude, she walked right up to my mom and asked, "What's your name?" and proceeded to tell Mom about her town (some small town in Iowa), her family, and her calf which won at a show while her cousin's calf died because "it just kept barfing." You have to understand that this is incredibly rare for Mom. We're cut from the same cloth -- we aren't known for being outwardly friendly. I joked that Megan was attracted to Mom because they were the same size. She didn't take that too well.
Sea lions in Prince William Sound
Icebergs and mountains by Columbia Glacier
Mummy and I react appropriately to the chilly icebergs!
"Dear Santa, My mom said you don't give out American Girl Dolls. If you do you will give give out only that. But I want Molly and a couple other things. How can I salve (solve) that? Love, Regan. P.S. Please Write Back!" This chick has the right idea.
A smaller, Christmasy version of Gatlinburg just wouldn't be complete without...that's right folks...Santa Land R.V. Park.
Yesterday was a much better day though -- we went on a cruise in Prince William Sound and saw orcas, sea lions, a sea otter, and a humpback whale! We cruised to Columbia Glacier, a rapidly declining glacier in terms of length, while scanning the waters for the aforementioned sea critters. Hanging out on the bow of the ship while by the glacier was cold enough, but when the ship started to cruise around 16 knots my ears began to numb up and I had to head inside. Three cups of tea and two cups of "Russian Tea" (Tang, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, etc.) kept me warm. Cute moment of the day: a 5th-grader named Megan decided to be my Mom's friend. With a cool, confident attitude, she walked right up to my mom and asked, "What's your name?" and proceeded to tell Mom about her town (some small town in Iowa), her family, and her calf which won at a show while her cousin's calf died because "it just kept barfing." You have to understand that this is incredibly rare for Mom. We're cut from the same cloth -- we aren't known for being outwardly friendly. I joked that Megan was attracted to Mom because they were the same size. She didn't take that too well.
Sea lions in Prince William Sound
Icebergs and mountains by Columbia Glacier
Mummy and I react appropriately to the chilly icebergs! After spending a night attempting and failing miserably to find any bar or liquor store in Valdez, a town of only 4,500 people, that would understand the fact that my wallet was stolen and that I really didn't have any form of picture ID anymore but that I definitely was over 21, I ended up getting very little sleep. Today we traveled from Valdez to Fairbanks, which is east of the Alaskan range of mountains and as a result is much clearer and sunnier than Anchorage or Valdez. The price of being in better weather seems to come with visiting more and more tacky destinations. Take, for instance, North Pole, Alaska. A mere 10-20 minutes south of Fairbanks, North Pole has street lamps covered to resemble candy canes, Santa Claus lane, and Santa Claus's House, complete with Mr. and Mrs. Claus and letters from their young believers. The letters were adorable -- the locale was far from endearing. Think of a smaller, Christmas-themed Gatlinburg sans expensive thrill rides, attractions, and anything but fast food.
"Dear Santa, My mom said you don't give out American Girl Dolls. If you do you will give give out only that. But I want Molly and a couple other things. How can I salve (solve) that? Love, Regan. P.S. Please Write Back!" This chick has the right idea.
A smaller, Christmasy version of Gatlinburg just wouldn't be complete without...that's right folks...Santa Land R.V. Park.It's definitely time for bed here -- we have an early morning river boat ride, salmon bake, and a plane trip to a small town about the Arctic Circle.
Loves,
Corey
Loves,
Corey
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Alas-kaaaaaa...
After being patted down in two different airports and getting three hours of sleep between flights, I made it to Alaska. How is it, you ask? Green and overcast, mainly. Snowy mountain tops are obscured by a thick, swirling layer of clouds and nearly everything is green. Christin wants to go polar beat swimming, and although I managed to stick my toe in a river created by a nearby glacier, I don't think we'll have the opportunity to dive right in...even though you know I'd do it! To satisfy my need for activity other than chatting up the old folks on the tour bus (yes, I'm on a guided bus tour), I've decided to take pictures and buy the most ridiculous products of tourism that Alaska has to offer. If you are lucky enough to receive one of these effects, such as a postcard with an eagle flying in the scenic Alaskan sky, let me know if you think it's a cheesy as I do.
I had to cancel all my credit cards and such since I couldn't find my wallet in Boston. My only other true expensive casualty was my iPod, but luckily that's easily replaceable. If I didn't have my camera, I couldn't take awesome pictures of Alaska, and if my laptop was stolen once again I would have been so angry at myself! Life could be worse though -- especially if the airlines hadn't let me fly back to Seattle and Alaska.
I already feel myself looking more at the positives of life than the negatives, which was part of the reason I moved away. However, I never plan on adopting many of the ideals that my work strives for. I've already found that I disagree not necessarily with the ideals, but the ways that it strives to achieve them -- such as the curfew and zero-tolerance alcohol policies. I guess that's one of the reasons I joined this organization though -- to enact change. I just didn't think it would have to be in this manner. Eventually I think I'll get to be in on the change that needs to happen in parts of the Seattle school system, but it's just going to take a while to get there. Training quite frankly drives me nuts, and I just can't wait to actually go out in Seattle and work with communities to leave a positive mark in the world.
Once I actually do more in Alaska besides travel in a tour bus with people that scream when they see an animal out the window (Rabbit!!!), I'll write again. Wi-fi is a bit scarce, and pictures would definitely help any descriptions I could give you, but it's worth documenting -- trust me.
Loves loves loves,
Corey
P.S. -- a plus of my new crackberry is that I'm not bored despite the loss of my iPod. I found this cute article on the New York Times -- http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/opinion/03dowd.html?_r=1&hp&oref=slogin -- and I've always loved Maureen Dowd :)
I had to cancel all my credit cards and such since I couldn't find my wallet in Boston. My only other true expensive casualty was my iPod, but luckily that's easily replaceable. If I didn't have my camera, I couldn't take awesome pictures of Alaska, and if my laptop was stolen once again I would have been so angry at myself! Life could be worse though -- especially if the airlines hadn't let me fly back to Seattle and Alaska.
I already feel myself looking more at the positives of life than the negatives, which was part of the reason I moved away. However, I never plan on adopting many of the ideals that my work strives for. I've already found that I disagree not necessarily with the ideals, but the ways that it strives to achieve them -- such as the curfew and zero-tolerance alcohol policies. I guess that's one of the reasons I joined this organization though -- to enact change. I just didn't think it would have to be in this manner. Eventually I think I'll get to be in on the change that needs to happen in parts of the Seattle school system, but it's just going to take a while to get there. Training quite frankly drives me nuts, and I just can't wait to actually go out in Seattle and work with communities to leave a positive mark in the world.
Once I actually do more in Alaska besides travel in a tour bus with people that scream when they see an animal out the window (Rabbit!!!), I'll write again. Wi-fi is a bit scarce, and pictures would definitely help any descriptions I could give you, but it's worth documenting -- trust me.
Loves loves loves,
Corey
P.S. -- a plus of my new crackberry is that I'm not bored despite the loss of my iPod. I found this cute article on the New York Times -- http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/opinion/03dowd.html?_r=1&hp&oref=slogin -- and I've always loved Maureen Dowd :)
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Ain't it always the way...
Hmmmm.
This past week I've been in Boston training for my position with about 400-500 new staff and service leaders. We've had extensive 14 hour days training for various ahhhh-everything-goes-awry-what-do-you-as-the-leader-do? situations. While the national headquarters did not even designate a curfew or alcohol policy, my site did. Out of 18 sites, we are the ONLY one to have a curfew and a zero-tolerance alcohol policy.
Everyone that attended from Seattle was 22 or older.
Naturally, this infuriated me. Instead of absorbing the sessions, I spent lots of time thinking about why they made this decision, contacting people from other sites for their advice, and attempting to talk to my manager and director without breaking into very angry tears. They don't have the right to tell us when to be in the dorm -- we are adults. We take care of ourselves on a daily basis, and yet they don't trust us to act the same way while away from Seattle. This kind of situation deeply offends me, as I imagine it would anyone else my age.
Last night I decided to team up with a co-worker and write a letter to the staff detailing our dissent in much greater detail. I had already lost sleep over it, and I figured I would only lose more if the situation wasn't resolved and discussed. After sending it to the other people at Seattle who share similar positions as mine, and without sending it to the staff that made these rules, the curfew was suddenly lifted for the last night at Academy. You can just imagine my joy!
But I lost my backpack. My notes, jackets, and wallet are nowhere to be found. As such, I can't go out with all my other co-workers because I have no ID.
Coincidence? Forgetfulness? Just plain bad luck? I'm not sure what to think of it. All I know is that I'm still sober, tired, and have to board a plane tomorrow somehow without ID.
Hmmmm.
This past week I've been in Boston training for my position with about 400-500 new staff and service leaders. We've had extensive 14 hour days training for various ahhhh-everything-goes-awry-what-do-you-as-the-leader-do? situations. While the national headquarters did not even designate a curfew or alcohol policy, my site did. Out of 18 sites, we are the ONLY one to have a curfew and a zero-tolerance alcohol policy.
Everyone that attended from Seattle was 22 or older.
Naturally, this infuriated me. Instead of absorbing the sessions, I spent lots of time thinking about why they made this decision, contacting people from other sites for their advice, and attempting to talk to my manager and director without breaking into very angry tears. They don't have the right to tell us when to be in the dorm -- we are adults. We take care of ourselves on a daily basis, and yet they don't trust us to act the same way while away from Seattle. This kind of situation deeply offends me, as I imagine it would anyone else my age.
Last night I decided to team up with a co-worker and write a letter to the staff detailing our dissent in much greater detail. I had already lost sleep over it, and I figured I would only lose more if the situation wasn't resolved and discussed. After sending it to the other people at Seattle who share similar positions as mine, and without sending it to the staff that made these rules, the curfew was suddenly lifted for the last night at Academy. You can just imagine my joy!
But I lost my backpack. My notes, jackets, and wallet are nowhere to be found. As such, I can't go out with all my other co-workers because I have no ID.
Coincidence? Forgetfulness? Just plain bad luck? I'm not sure what to think of it. All I know is that I'm still sober, tired, and have to board a plane tomorrow somehow without ID.
Hmmmm.
Monday, July 21, 2008
I got a heart full of rubber bands that keep getting caught on things.
Before I write (hopefully) extensively on The Feminine Mystique, a book everyone should read, I have to share with you a few bits of what I've been busy with the past couple of days.
If there is one thing I've learned about moving and living on your own, it's that you actually have to have a place to live (but mainly sleep and eat) before you can truly begin your new life. Unfortunately, I have not found that abode quite yet. No matter the number of apartments/duplexes/basements/shared rooms/houses/old laundry rooms I visit, I never quite feel content or at home in them. I've decided this is the main problem with Craig's List -- not many sane AND social young people list on it. Plus, all the good rooms are usually taken by other housemates, and I'm left with the room with a rusting sink and a 6 inch wide window. No fun. Despite these setbacks, my co-worker and I managed to find a couple of decent places, and hopefully we'll decide on one of them soon enough.
When I'm not desperately driving around down NE 50th St., getting lost on 99, or cutting people off on I-5 in order to attend open houses on time around the entirety of Seattle, I've managed to have a bit of fun around Seattle's green, diverse, and amusing community. (Compostable cups are made of corn? holy kernels, Batman!) Two weeks ago I never thought I'd see a Native American powwow. Or have a divorced economist, who is also a devoted, Christian father of five, hit on me while I noshed on hazelnut gelato on the bus ride back to Ballard ("If you'd said yes, I would have taken you to church with me").
In particular, I never thought I’d be sitting on a blanket shaded by towering cypress and oak trees in the middle of Marymoor Park anticipating the opening of The Chieftains, a Grammy-winning Celtic group, in the east side of Seattle. Had I stayed home, I would have missed the opportunity to DANCE ON STAGE with the group -- a train of Irish dancers came along during the finale, invited Kerry (my co-worker and friend) to join the line, and before I knew what I was getting myself into, I was line dancing on stage around these world-renowned artists in front of about 2,000 people. (MAJOR props to Jessie, a very giving King County official and CY board member, who got us in free of charge.) Even though The Chieftains were amazingly talented, I have to admit I kind of enjoyed Ockham's Razor, the opener, a bit more. :) While the Chieftains played awesome versions of Wabash Cannonball and Cotton Eyed Joe (which I can't watch without laughing to the point of tears and general disgust), Ockham's Razor played Devil Went Down to Georgia, a consistent Corey-pleaser.
In short, I don't regret my decision to come out here. That isn't to say that it's been easy -- but I'm hoping that in the weeks and months to come, I will encounter different challenges (namely, work related ones) than the ones currently set before me.
On the ride back from the concert, Kerry and I began to question Jessie about her experience in the Peace Corps in West Africa. She began to talk about learning a new language, culture shock upon returning to the US, and her journals she kept while abroad. Much of her experience impressed me, particularly her amazing amount of independence and sense of morality. While I couldn't do justice in my description of any part of her time there, I have to share one piece that she wrote in her journal -- verse 11 of Walt Whitman's "Song of the Open Road."
While this verse inspires me, something in verse 15 holds me:
Allons! whoever you are! come forth!
You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you.
Allons! out of the dark confinement!
It is useless to protest—I know all, and expose it.
Behold, through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.
No husband, no wife, no friend, no lover, trusted to hear the confession;
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors,
In the cars of rail-roads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bed-room, everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
Speaking of anything else, but never of itself.
Peace,
Corey
If there is one thing I've learned about moving and living on your own, it's that you actually have to have a place to live (but mainly sleep and eat) before you can truly begin your new life. Unfortunately, I have not found that abode quite yet. No matter the number of apartments/duplexes/basements/shared rooms/houses/old laundry rooms I visit, I never quite feel content or at home in them. I've decided this is the main problem with Craig's List -- not many sane AND social young people list on it. Plus, all the good rooms are usually taken by other housemates, and I'm left with the room with a rusting sink and a 6 inch wide window. No fun. Despite these setbacks, my co-worker and I managed to find a couple of decent places, and hopefully we'll decide on one of them soon enough.
When I'm not desperately driving around down NE 50th St., getting lost on 99, or cutting people off on I-5 in order to attend open houses on time around the entirety of Seattle, I've managed to have a bit of fun around Seattle's green, diverse, and amusing community. (Compostable cups are made of corn? holy kernels, Batman!) Two weeks ago I never thought I'd see a Native American powwow. Or have a divorced economist, who is also a devoted, Christian father of five, hit on me while I noshed on hazelnut gelato on the bus ride back to Ballard ("If you'd said yes, I would have taken you to church with me").
In particular, I never thought I’d be sitting on a blanket shaded by towering cypress and oak trees in the middle of Marymoor Park anticipating the opening of The Chieftains, a Grammy-winning Celtic group, in the east side of Seattle. Had I stayed home, I would have missed the opportunity to DANCE ON STAGE with the group -- a train of Irish dancers came along during the finale, invited Kerry (my co-worker and friend) to join the line, and before I knew what I was getting myself into, I was line dancing on stage around these world-renowned artists in front of about 2,000 people. (MAJOR props to Jessie, a very giving King County official and CY board member, who got us in free of charge.) Even though The Chieftains were amazingly talented, I have to admit I kind of enjoyed Ockham's Razor, the opener, a bit more. :) While the Chieftains played awesome versions of Wabash Cannonball and Cotton Eyed Joe (which I can't watch without laughing to the point of tears and general disgust), Ockham's Razor played Devil Went Down to Georgia, a consistent Corey-pleaser.
In short, I don't regret my decision to come out here. That isn't to say that it's been easy -- but I'm hoping that in the weeks and months to come, I will encounter different challenges (namely, work related ones) than the ones currently set before me.
On the ride back from the concert, Kerry and I began to question Jessie about her experience in the Peace Corps in West Africa. She began to talk about learning a new language, culture shock upon returning to the US, and her journals she kept while abroad. Much of her experience impressed me, particularly her amazing amount of independence and sense of morality. While I couldn't do justice in my description of any part of her time there, I have to share one piece that she wrote in her journal -- verse 11 of Walt Whitman's "Song of the Open Road."
| Listen! I will be honest with you; | |
| I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes; | |
| These are the days that must happen to you: | |
| You shall not heap up what is call’d riches, | |
| You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve, | 145 |
| You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d—you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction, before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart, | |
| You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you; | |
| What beckonings of love you receive, you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting, | |
| You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you. |
While this verse inspires me, something in verse 15 holds me:
Allons! whoever you are! come forth!
You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you.
Allons! out of the dark confinement!
It is useless to protest—I know all, and expose it.
Behold, through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.
No husband, no wife, no friend, no lover, trusted to hear the confession;
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors,
In the cars of rail-roads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bed-room, everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
Speaking of anything else, but never of itself.
Peace,
Corey
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Sittin' on the dock of the bay
I arrived in Seattle this past Friday, and unlike previous moves, I was nothing but excited. My most sublime discovery? The city is so green that even the interstate bridges and overhangs downtown have vegetation dangling from them! After meeting some CY folks (quite kind people!), Mom and I headed out to Bothell, a northern 'burb of Seattle, for the night. We headed to the local ale house and I had my first true meal in Seattle: a half-portion of Mac n' Cheese made with penne pasta, tillamook cheddar cheese, heavy cream, and bacon with a mixed greens side salad and an Alaskan summer ale to drink. Delicious! (Mumsie had fish and chips with white wine.) The Bothell area was beautiful, but definitely too far from the CY office for me. The housing search is ongoing, but hopefully I will find a place soon (and yes, I'll post pictures!)
The next day we headed out to Whidbey Island, an island just to the northwest of Seattle and apparently a popular summer hangout. Dogs, frisbees, and barbeques everywhere -- and I thought we were only going to go to small arts and crafts towns, so I wore a dress! Despite my inappropriate attire, I managed to hike onto some rocks at Deception Pass and admire this amazing view.
It's amazing to be in such a lush, beautiful, and fairly warm area and see the snow-covered Olympics just over the water. Even though this area isn't particularly close to Seattle, I had this feeling that this is just where I was meant to be. I was at peace, calm, and oh so close to what I hope was the feeling of freedom.
However, this feeling didn't last long. While I enjoy a quiet view, Mom was fidgety and talkative -- two qualities that don't describe her particularly well. Later she admitted to me that she almost regretting coming to the island for the day -- talk about a guilt trip! Luckily, we happened upon a street arts + crafts fair in Langley on the southern side of the island. Choochokam apparently takes place every year, and my mother just went wild. Huge woven rugs, handmade leather crafts, family-owned pottery businesses, knitted
hats, a shady backyard that sold locally brewed beer and wine, local music, and one ADORABLE hand-blown pig light fixture were just a few of the booths that brightened her day. Now she dreams of moving there and holing up in the winter to weave and touring the northwest the rest of the year selling her crafts.
I just now realized how weird it is that I'm writing a lot about my mother. I really miss her these days, along with everyone else. As I've said before, the CY people are nice, but it's always hard for me to get to know new people, especially when I'm in a new place, and especially when I have so little sense of permanency, what with no housing, true work routine, or close friends. Through everything, my mother has been there for me, and I am so happy that we got to road trip together and spend my first couple of nights in Seattle driving around listening to Car Talk and Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me!. Perhaps it's also easier to write about this right now rather than my own situation. I'm confident it will improve soon though -- the days will get easier, the nights will be less long, and I'll not only enjoy the beauty of this town but be a happier, less lonely person in it.
Corey
-- This is a reminder to myself that I need to write about the Feminine Mystique and its influence on bringing me here :)
The next day we headed out to Whidbey Island, an island just to the northwest of Seattle and apparently a popular summer hangout. Dogs, frisbees, and barbeques everywhere -- and I thought we were only going to go to small arts and crafts towns, so I wore a dress! Despite my inappropriate attire, I managed to hike onto some rocks at Deception Pass and admire this amazing view.
It's amazing to be in such a lush, beautiful, and fairly warm area and see the snow-covered Olympics just over the water. Even though this area isn't particularly close to Seattle, I had this feeling that this is just where I was meant to be. I was at peace, calm, and oh so close to what I hope was the feeling of freedom.However, this feeling didn't last long. While I enjoy a quiet view, Mom was fidgety and talkative -- two qualities that don't describe her particularly well. Later she admitted to me that she almost regretting coming to the island for the day -- talk about a guilt trip! Luckily, we happened upon a street arts + crafts fair in Langley on the southern side of the island. Choochokam apparently takes place every year, and my mother just went wild. Huge woven rugs, handmade leather crafts, family-owned pottery businesses, knitted
hats, a shady backyard that sold locally brewed beer and wine, local music, and one ADORABLE hand-blown pig light fixture were just a few of the booths that brightened her day. Now she dreams of moving there and holing up in the winter to weave and touring the northwest the rest of the year selling her crafts.I just now realized how weird it is that I'm writing a lot about my mother. I really miss her these days, along with everyone else. As I've said before, the CY people are nice, but it's always hard for me to get to know new people, especially when I'm in a new place, and especially when I have so little sense of permanency, what with no housing, true work routine, or close friends. Through everything, my mother has been there for me, and I am so happy that we got to road trip together and spend my first couple of nights in Seattle driving around listening to Car Talk and Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me!. Perhaps it's also easier to write about this right now rather than my own situation. I'm confident it will improve soon though -- the days will get easier, the nights will be less long, and I'll not only enjoy the beauty of this town but be a happier, less lonely person in it.
Corey
-- This is a reminder to myself that I need to write about the Feminine Mystique and its influence on bringing me here :)
Sunday, July 13, 2008
First day on my own
I’m sitting in my first Seattle Starbucks (because I don’t really know where else to go) sipping my grande skim latte and questioning what exactly I should do next. The past few days have been eye-opening (I’ll post pictures later, promise), and not a bit of me regretted coming out here until I said farewell to Mom this morning at Sea-Tac Airport. I felt irreversibly fearful and alone – all I could think about was the familiar people and places of home. I’ve never ventured out on a journey like this one before, and it scares me, probably as it should. After managing to hold myself together while going through these emotions, I realized I was running low on gas and also didn’t have a clue where a gas station was on 405 North. Ah good, something else to think about rather than my current situation! Unfortunately, I exited the interstate (I originally typed “I got off,” but I’m trying to remove that phrase from my everyday vocabulary) and got on a highway that apparently heads towards Mount Rainier. Despite the number of cars on the road, there were no gas stations in sight. How can there be so many cars and no gas stations?! Is this another attempt by this eco-friendlier city to green up the area? That makes no sense! Eventually I found one, but seeing as gas is on the more expensive side in this part of the country ($4.40 per gallon), I decided not to fill it up completely. Hopefully I won’t need to drive my car for a while. (holla for my free bus pass from work!)
I also got to talk Jessie, the friend I’ve had longest in this world. I don’t know what it is, but chats with her always either take my mind off of whatever is bothering me or make me see it in a more humorous light. Although I miss her greatly, little has changed between us since we graduated high school, and talking with her makes me remember that no matter the distance, I am never truly alone.
While I could sit here and type forever, I should probably get in contact with the City Year members I’m staying with the next couple of nights and figure out what the next few days have in store for me. My first day of work is tomorrow, and while I met some other very kind and funny service leaders on Monday, I’m still a bit nervous and curious about what the organization is truly all about. At least I have my coffee and comics for company.
I also got to talk Jessie, the friend I’ve had longest in this world. I don’t know what it is, but chats with her always either take my mind off of whatever is bothering me or make me see it in a more humorous light. Although I miss her greatly, little has changed between us since we graduated high school, and talking with her makes me remember that no matter the distance, I am never truly alone.
While I could sit here and type forever, I should probably get in contact with the City Year members I’m staying with the next couple of nights and figure out what the next few days have in store for me. My first day of work is tomorrow, and while I met some other very kind and funny service leaders on Monday, I’m still a bit nervous and curious about what the organization is truly all about. At least I have my coffee and comics for company.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
