Red note from a blue state (because its almost valentines day)

In my last 15 minutes of being 22, here I am. I just got back from a bar (Flowers, the last thing worth staying in the Udistrict for, other than the school) where I met two friends and several acquaintances and a few strangers. One of my friends Shaun, just had a of his films shown on campus, and the rest of the people at our two tables had been in attendance. I planned on going, far in advance, but I worked today, and as I feel my days at this particular work are numbered, I also feel a certain responsibility despite my disinterest, to be there. So I missed Shaun's film. But like immediately following his last film showing, I knew they would be going to Flowers, so I had the other friend, Adrienne call me when they got there.

Anyway something weird happened. I am having a hard time wrapping my brain around it.
An acquaintance there has not the most amazing eyes I have ever seen but close. So very intense. And I found that holding eye contact was a little game I was playing with him, or perhaps myself, which, as you might have caught on during face-to-face conversations with me, is difficult. I lost, whether I was playing with myself or with him, but even while looking away, I could feel the intensity of his gaze still on my eyes. Or maybe my bangs as they are new and he could have been trying to figure out what was different. This carried on for the next hour and a half or so. By that time our group had thinned down to me, this acquaintance, and a stranger.

Now perhaps I correlate eye contact with something sexual. Intense eye contact like that causes butterflies or inspires a degree of kiligin (if I can use a new Tagalog vocabulary word I learned today) it is a word we have not been able to translate fully yet that means something like giddiness, described by Kuya as the response of a girl who has just been given flowers. um. Anyway I read a term this morning in January's edition of Conscious Choice (yes Leanne has a subscription) that I think fits it well, New Relationship Energy. I think Potential New Relationship Energy works just as well, and is my own, correct or not, definition of kiligin (which can only be used to describe a feeling cause by another person, not for instance a place, I find that odd).

Eye contact is not the strange occurrence, as you might be thinking. The strange thing was the amazing eye fellow, as we were paying and gathering our things to leave, offered to buy me another drink, as it was nearly my birthday, somewhere else. I slowly caught up in the conversation, as his eyes continue to keep me off guard, awkwardly said no because of having a long paper to write or something. Free drink, attractive boy, my birthday, or homework? I don't even do homework. Maybe 23 makes you lame. Oh come on he has a girlfriend though, she was brought up in conversation a few minutes earlier. I wish I had that opportunity back though. I remember after the moment passed, I kept coming up with excuses of why not to say "you know i changed my mind". I drove, I really wanted to take a shower, I was freezing cold...And so here I am. Blogging on Blogster or whatever it is called, not doing homework, still freezing, and 23.
I don't know when I will see him again, Joshua. But he is from Oakland, perhaps that is an omen for you people who like omens. Damn it. Happy Birthday Self! Its time to start writing that paper.

omfg

Its so much worse now that its the night of fat tuesday. they are drinking my vodka, screaming, and running around the house. i am writing my alamat still.

omg

I still live here. this has got to be the least productive of my time so far. the pounding bass upstairs prohibits all forward motion on everything I need to accomplish tonight. an old high school friend is playing on the radio. my stomach is gargling and my hands are freezing but I still have another page and a half of a Tagalog legend to write. So far, its amazing, just fantastic, and probably better than what I could write in english. So good Kuya Jed thinks I stole it. However its also severely late. And as you can see I am currently writing here instead of there. The pounding bass and all. I am sick of asking them to be more considerate. Sick of winter. and apparently growing sick of good health if you ask my nose and lungs.

Paano na kumuha ang bubuyog ng guhit.

It is so cute it's painful. I even add a little Philippine History. I have everything laid out in front of me. How it ends etc... but translating the plot into Tagalog, stopping myself from translating and rethinking it in Tagalog, looking up every other word it seems, takes an excruciatingly long time. I didn't go to any of my classes today because I was trying to finish it before work. Four hours later I had only written about a paragraph more. Half way there, roughly five paragraphs more. Lets hope that doesn't mean another 20 hours of this. I should get back to work.

Avoiding future regret

The UW marine biology fellow with whom I was going to run off and become a pirate with if our marine biology careers fell through is now engaged. Shit. My marine biology career fell through. I had an immature little crush on him since shellfish biology, but i knew any romantic potential between the two of us was over when he moved to CA with his long time girlfriend last Spring. Shit. Shit. Shit. Is home-wreckery a legitimate form of piracy?

Hi unknown internet stalkers, Carmel, and anyone else that reads these things

I have had many random thoughts that I wanted to record in the past few weeks, but now I can't remember most of them. It is now officially Fall in Seattle, maybe even winter, regardless, its cold as fucking hell. I seem to remember donating all of my warm clothing before going to Wisconsin whether or not that really happened, I can't find any warm clothes. So today I might help the economy out by buying some with my go to the Philippines savings. I am going to the Philippines by the way. I am going on an 8 day familiarization tour sponsored by the Philippine government to promote U.S. dive tourism. Weird huh. (As I pull lavender pancake batter out of my hair, I managed to trash the kitchen during breakfast this late afternoon). Anyway I am excited obviously because I am going, and its is only costing me about $600. But it will be bizarre to say the least to be there as a "wealthy, American, tourist" and not the poor student/scholar/activist that i will be there as later. I will ponder this more in the coming days.
I go on the 19th of October

I volunteered at a fundraiser for Blue Earth the other day. Blue Earth does something in regards to environmental/social justice/awareness through mind-blowing photography. It is exactly the kind of frivolous, ineffective world change I want someone to pay me living wages for. While the auction was beautiful, both in the art for sale and in Seattle's elite artist crowd that attended, it was an absurd place for me to be. Everyone else volunteering there, was an established photographer/art student. I was mysterious and let them think I was something like that also. But free wine and food always makes it worth it. And I enjoyed looking glamorous and pretending like I fit in with that crowd.

I had a second job for a while. At World Spice Merchants in Pike Place Market. It was really fun. I would get up early, take the 71 downtown, listen to my music player and read academic discourse on the Philippine diaspora, and have a relaxing 30 minute commute. Show up downtown early, stop and get coffee on my walk down to the market. Get covered in exotic spices, meet famous Seattle chefs, learn about different flavor profiles, and not be tired or sick of working before closing time. Reminds me of how work used to be fun. But loyalty or obligation, I am not sure which is which anymore, means I am to open and clothes for two weeks straight at my dive shop while everyone else goes to a trade show in Florida. And the week before, I am in the Philippines. So Spice Market handed me a check for the hours I had worked and said for me to let them know when I am back from all that. I am slightly heartbroken.

I have naglakwatsa with Matthew several times since our return to Seattle, mostly moving related, sometimes alcohol related. We hung out with Jon and Meg and some history students one night, had some much fun together that we went out for breakfast the next morning, that seemed eerily reminiscent of Madison. Matthew has my perfect studio. I am fiercely jealous.

My friend Stefanie is back from Brazil. She really wants me to move in with her. I am not sure if I want roommates, but a change sounds good. We will see, I have not seen the place yet.

Anyway its 2 o clock. I need to clean up my lavender pancake mess (they were wonderful, you should try them sometime), take care of some university fines, deliver a large box of Waterford crystal to my parents house (something possessed them in Waterford Ireland, and they had it shipped to me in Seattle for safe keeping) and buy some warm clothes on the way back. Matthew wants me to help him move some more today and he will buy me dinner so that works out well. Especially since dinner with the boy that is driving me crazy (I suppose "a boy" not "the boy" since there are a few) is not happening. Damn I wanted to have a little chat with him today too. Oh well Matthew is a better listener and more honest anyway, and I know Matthew will pay for me. Have a good day, do what you can to stay warm.

[sigh]

I am really irritated. Except for the likelihood of another encounter with my sexy neighbor next door, I really want to move. But I can't find anything close to the practically nothing I am paying for rent. And I think my only stipulation is that I don't want roommates. I suppose I also need a parking spot, I am scared of ground floors (Thanks Wisconsin), and I need a reasonable bus route to campus. Plus I have furniture that I am rather attached to, so it can't just be a room in a house unless it is really large (two love seats, a giant console record player, book shelves, coffee table, side tables, desk, dresser, trunk, bed). yeah.

Sorry I don't feel like writing anymore...

Sheatyl

So I am home. yesterday i got back in the evening. saw a high school friend at the airport in Minneapolis. Had not seen her since high school because we were not really friends, but we talked for a while in the terminal before taking the same flight back into Seattle. weird. then i sat next to kind of an inconsiderate asshole on the plane. i was not irritated enough to say anything to him but i was getting close. first off, for the entire flight he rested his forearm on our shared armrest so that his elbow was touching me. to the point where it felt intentional. I would have complained, but by the time I noticed, i was really cold and his body heat helped a little. then he wore his headphones around his neck so we had to listen to whatever stupid movie or bad pop music he chose to listen to for the three hour ride. and then, just after beverages were served, when I had my tray down, a mostly full can of ginger ale, a glass of ice and soda, my mp3 player in my lap and my seat belt on, he decided that was the best time to get up and go to the bathroom.


then i played 12 games of solitaire a did not win once.

(fall asleep for 8 hours then resume writting)

I got back to seattle, had no key to my house because my sublettor has it.
Had dinner with Loida and Carmel
Finally got into my house.

The next day while waiting for my roommates to be ready to take me to fred meyer to make a copy of the house key, I decide it would be a good idea to run and jump for the string of a balloon that is hanging down from our vaulted ceilings. it wasn't. I come down from my leap on top of a pair of really sexy platforms and quite possibly twist my ankle. I writhe in pain on the floor for a bit then ice it, and then decide that nothing can keep me from getting this key made. So i suck it up and move on. Then I kind of limp all over ballard (cupcake royal-because we weren't sure where fred meyer was in relation to market st-and its cupcake royal, fred meyer of course when we find it, then I get a call from stefanie who is on her way to ballard, so i hop out of ginas car on market and wait for stef to arrive while browsing through records (since I now have my deluxe record player) at Sonic Boom. When stef arrives I climb into the back seat of the car her little brother is driving, and suddenly something wet and hairy is on my cheek. With a 'holy shit!' I turn around to see two large dogs in the back and they are very happy to see me. We take them to greenlake so her brother can run them around, and stef and I catch up for a bit. Then we take the dogs back to the house her brother is housesitting at, and I realize that my ankle wont make it up stairs with out a fight. Of course the house is a 4 story town house, and that is when the pain comes back. By the time we get back to the car, my ankle is visibly swollen. So they take me home, I take a couple of advil and ice it again, then go out to Capitol hill with my old friend Jennifer and her little sister and some of her friends from Bellingham.

Now, the next morning, my ankle feels a little better but I am still going to make an appointment at the ankle clinic down the street. Then I am taking Kelsey out to breakfast and she is taking me back to monroe to get my car.

The end. I kind of enjoy having a blog, regardless if anyone reads it or not. I was never good at keeping a diary/journal, but this is easier, and not required by some class. So even though I am no longer in an officially red state, I might keep it up.