June 29, 2008

A proud sunburn, no less.

Walking home from Wallingford this evening at around 10:30pm felt good. I was a beautiful girl, and and the evening called for a pair of shorts, and a Cody Wyoming T-Shirt. Sex and the City turned into more of an emotional commitment for the evening than I had planned. But whenever I sit down for 2 hours and am forced to analyse the lives and mistakes of 4 fake overly-wealthy middle aged women, I am also forced to analyse my own life. I feel that maybe Colleen felt the same way. So we made a date for cocktails a year from now. But until then, I need to take care of a couple of things.
(1) My 20th birthday is on friday. I need to stop hiding under a rock. This is a numerical milestone, and, although at first it is a bit amusing to think I am a small 20 years old, it is also important to me.
(2) I need to send that letter to the IRS. Nothing big. No worries.
(3) Phonetics assignment. Of course I'm choosing portuguese.
(4) Get that job on tuesday. *no* questions. Just do it.
(5) Tomorrow morning. A run, coffee, followed by the library. Followed by classes. Followed by a review of the IPA, especially vowels. (See bullet point (4)). Study for Syntax quiz. Clean room. Study french or something.
(6) Email autumn girls about living. Deal with it.

I might just up and leave for portugal. Any second now.

I don't want to be stuck alone again on my birthday.

I have the best view of the city in all of the U-District. I can't believe how lucky I am.

Oh, and the rain felt really amazing today. After the sunburn from pride.

June 23, 2008

wrapping my face around infinity

It strikes me as odd - that a species so highly evolved as humans, so well adapted, are so controlled by what we call emotions. Just the fact that the word suicide exists in our lexicon tells me that we are too emotional. Our feelings, thoughts, and behaviors are many times irrational, and without simple logic. I don't believe it to be advantageous. I don't believe it to be necessary for survival. And on a personal note, I become frustrated, more often than not, at the very existence of the concept of emotion. It is one of many words in human language that implies something far beyond our ability to understand. Why name what we cannot grasp? Love, God, Infinity, Purpose, ... , Time. These are all words that mean so much to any person, child or adult, male or female, intelligent or not, and yet we don't understand the concepts. At all.

With that being said, I have fallen into somewhat of a financial state of fuck. I admit, I can always do more to improve cash flow, save, dine in, etc., but I never expected to reach this embarrassing state. I am dealing with it. I am dealing with classes. I am dealing with a new roommate. I am dealing with Elle gone. Lauren gone. Insecurities of all kinds. I may look for a job tomorrow. I may run out of money completely.

I may get up and move to Dili.

June 19, 2008

We are going to dance non-stop now, or Why Plants?

Today, after an early morning coffee (okay - like 9am), and a nice conversation with Anastasia about cannibalism & anthropology, I headed out to capitol hill (if you're not from Seattle, this has little to due with a political center of the city, and also::keep in mind that Seattle is not the capitol of Washington) and onward to hospital hill to meet up with Aunt Audrey and Uncle Bob for dinner at a new sheik organic restaurant in north bend, followed by a nice evening in big oldpeople chairs chatting about our respective lives and what we've learned from eachother. Dinner was fine. It turns out that I can hold a respectable conversation with adults. This ability must have just presented itself in the last... 5 days, because I remember stumbling over my words when I met Elle's parents. Anywho, conversations about linguistics, biology, and public education ensued. Bob was a public school german teacher for 30 some years and had a lot of input. Both were kind and encouraging but every member of my family, I feel, is still a little miffed I didnt' become a doctor like I promised every one whilst in high school.
"I just don't care enough about the human race" - I always say.
[laugh] "Well, as long as you're happy" - They always respond with.
Translation: "Damnit - Why plants?"
'Why Plants?' is a question that comes up fairly frequently in my life, and I feel like the explaination is not as spiritual, or eloquent as one might imagine it to be.
Why plants? Why not? Cell walls, indeterminate growth, alternation of generations, totipotency... SOLD
Seriously.

Anyway, so tonight I'm in north bend. Enjoying a quiet night with relatives. Feeling the effects of the 4 + 2 shots of espresso throughout the day. As I sat through my aunt's hair appointment, reading my new favorite book Seed to Seed (more about this later, I presume), I realised that suburbia (kirkland, to be exact) is a foreign, static place that I feel uncomfortable in. In fact, let's keep that ball rolling and just put it out there that I don't much like any place that's not in the city. I know it makes me sound out of touch with nature, or reality, or something, but I honestly am more comfortable within the metropolitan confines of major cities. This theme seems to come up too much. I think it's the apparent connection that people make between my botany major and their assumptions of what a botanist likes to do. Hike. Climb trees. Protest. Rock climb. Drink wheat grass. None of these things I engage in. Promise. I'm an urban botanist. I like plants as organisms. I am not a gardener. Nor am I a farmer. Nor a landscaper. Nor a horticulturist. I am a scientist. I enquirer about life processes. This dilemma has prompted this thought: do I refrain from telling strangers I am a botany major for fear of being stereotyped and asked about peoples dying plants in their garden? or, do I proudly wear my love of plants on my sleeve and work hard to counter the stereotypes set into place and break boundaries with my somewhat tight clothes and facial piercings.
Who knows. I'ma leave that thought for later, and make a decision plus tarde. Before I succumb to my book for the night, I have one more quick thing to say. Confessions on a Dancefloor is my favorite album this week. I can't get enough of it. I can't even believe I've spent the better part of the last couple of years not listening to it. It has to be my favorite Madonna album. She completely tore down any walls confining her. She said. Okay. American Life didn't work. Fuck this.

We::::are::::going::::to::::dance::::non:::::stop:::::now.

The album has prompted many long winded thought processes and I feel that it best functions as a unit. Rather than each song being a separate entity.

I really have a lot to say about this album. I've been in a complete dry-spell the last couple of weeks. No music that I've been about to GET myself inside of. And I feel like this album feels good in my head ::

you know when you chew mint gum, and then drink water from a water fountain and it feels like you're drinking the physical manifestation of clarity?

yes.