A revision

I have decided to amend my previous statement that being '30 kinda sucks' and just go ahead and throw all of 2012 in there.  I'm doing that because 2012 is going to be over a lot quicker than being 30 is going to be over. 

2012 can suck it.  It was the year of the mystery rash, ungodly school-related stress, hemorrhoids, intermittent heartbreak and most recently, an infected boil.  Seriously, if I get plagued with another geriatric ailment I'm going to insist on moving into a retirement center.

You may be thinking, why yes, those things all suck, but what about a) the good things that happened and b) all of the MUCH MUCH worse things that COULD have happened?  You have a good point, dear reader, but I'm wallowing, dammit.

I recently looked at the 2012 in photos (Year in photos part 1) and was reminded of the incredible spectra that exist between devastation and triumph, innovation and disaster, joy and misery.  We're all somewhere on these spectra at some point, along with everyone else on the planet.

So with that in mind, I will end this self-indulgent ranting with a reminder to myself about running in a canyon in the beautiful foothills of El Paso with my brother, becoming a godmother for the first time, swimming in the clear water of a lake in the central Oregon mountains and also that time my professor abbreviated 'units of analysis' as 'units of anal' on the chalkboard. 

Thirty kinda sucks.

So far, being 30 kinda sucks.  I've had hemorrhoids for a month, I had to pay $600 to fix my busted Jeep, I cut my thumb really bad on Thanksgiving and I'm an academic slave to my adviser.  I know that some good things have happened, too, I just can't really think of them right now.  I'll think of them later, when I'm not sitting on a cushion.

Also, my fantasy football team is shit. 

I think most of these things are first world problems with the exception of my butt woes and nearly severing my own thumb.  Although I cut it as I was chopping romaine lettuce for a salad.  At my parents' beach house.

Note to self

My fancy/worthless phone has a "memo" app where I can write short notes to myself that will prove useless because I hardly ever write enough for them to make any sense.  And here they are:

1. 11/29/12: I am.
2. 11/23/2012: I love you aliza. from your love. (to clarify, 'my love' is my niece madelyn, who is very savvy with a smart phone).
3. 11/17/2012: crystalfilm little dragon
4. 11/10/2012: 6177
5. 11/06/2012: Isaiah 21:48
6. 11/06/2012: psalm 91
7. 10/25/2012: sociocultural theory with manka
8. 10/22/2012: hot rice sock see Debrah for clarification
9. 10/21/2012: beating the odds
10. 10/18/2012: 3 buses passed that weren't mine and 7 emergency vehicles sped through the intersection as more of us accumulated at the bus stop.  no one really wants to look at each other or talk to each other or touch each other and i don't think its because were so different, I think its cause were more similar than wed like to admit.
11. 10/04/2012: lynrd skynrd Mr. banker Alabama shakes
12. 09/15/2012: la educacion prohibida
13. 08/10/2012: sentenced home
14. 08/10/2012: ya no se hacer las rimas pero se contar lagrimas como me duele el pecho ando si fuera sin techo las gotas son mis primas
15. 07/27/2012: heartbreaker band baaha barat I hate luv sotrys delhi belly ridicule 7 year itch auntie mame
16. 06/27/2012: la noche boca arriba. julio cortaza
17. 06/27/2012: palatine and 70th
18. 06/01/2012: metropolitan market
19. 05/17/2012: archer
20. 05/17/2012: leroy jenkins
21. 05/17/2012 taylor history class!!
22. 05/07/2012: Gonzalo 2134 ne 81st place
23. 05/04/2012: 12252 evanston
24. 04/24/2012: owl and thistle
25. 04/24/2012: 9956548838
26. 04/20/2012: southern culture on the skids
27. 03/26/2012: all the right moves
28. 03/11/2012: 272109 1170303 143133 160076
29. 02/13/2012: El nombre de la rosa
30. 02/04/2012: Buddha ruska alki
31. 10/06/2011: EDCI 505 language, culture and identity: implications for policy, planning, teaching and learning.  Suzanne romaine June 20-july 1

Other important advice

I realize that I already wrote a list of 30 things I learned, but this last bit of advice that I benevolently impart on you was learned from my dear friend, Ms. Lady. If you realize too late that you have an awkwardly visible panty line, one option you have is to make yourself a thong with the current saggy-ass-granny-panties that you are wearing. I had not previously known that this was an option.

And a serious birthday post

I decided to do some soul-searching/list-writing to commemorate my 30th birthday, and it was a really fun exercise. Hopefully I can keep up with the tradition of writing a list of things I learned during the last year before the dementia really kicks in. Here it is, unedited, unfiltered, and only unintentionally offensive. 1. I hope that 30 is not the new 20. When I was 20 I was a freaking moron; nobody wants to see that again. 2. Never buy the cheap windshield wiper blades. 3. It is not necessary to be nice to everyone on the bus. 4. It is necessary to be nice to most people on the bus. 5. Sleep is much more important than I thought. 6. So are fruits and vegetables. 7. Baby showers are for suckers/people that already have babies. 8. It is not necessary to compare myself to naked undergrads in the gym locker room. 9. It is necessary to remind myself of #1. 10. There are things you want to do, there are things you need to do, there are things you should do. The latter is my least favorite category, so I like to see if the task can fit into the first two categories. 11. The word for pigeon and the word for dove is ‘paloma’ in Spanish. That is to say, it’s all about perspective. 12. If you buy kale, you must cook it on the same day you buy it. Otherwise you will not cook it and it will shrivel up and smell bad in the crisper drawer. 13. If you are feeling down, change your profile picture on Facebook. 14. Don’t let anyone make you question your choice in light, domestic beer. Bud Light is the nectar of the gods. I’d like to see you drink your stupid microbrew imperial IPA for an entire four quarters of a college football game. 15. Your family will make you crazy, but they made you, so get over it and love them the way that they loved you when you pooped all over everything. 16. Sometimes it is good to be nicer than you have to be. 17. If you can hear your neighbor sneeze, they can hear you fart. Proceed accordingly. 18. I am stronger than I think I am. 19. That thing people tell you to do when you’re upset/stressed/in pain/etc, you know, take three deep breaths? That shit is actually really helpful. 20. It’s OK not to buy organic food when you don’t have a lot of money. 21. Sometimes the juice ain’t worth the squeeze. And sometimes it is. 22. If you call your mom to ask for her advice about how to treat hemorrhoids and you start crying uncontrollably all while sitting in your car in a strip mall parking lot in Greenwood, it might be a good day to stay home and lay on the couch and not go to work. 23. It’s important to recognize when certain fashion trends don’t apply to you (low rise pants, see-through shirts and skinny jeans) 24. My favorite quote from the last year: “Beyond realistic hope, not always available, lies faith; and love of the goal may inspire the courage to conquer even realistic fears” –Israel Scheffler 25. A friend asked me what I have learned about men in the last year…. Meh. 26. Comcast sucks. 27. Most people who complain about hearing others have sex aren’t gettin’ it themselves (I’M TALKING TO YOU, B**** A** NEIGHBOR LADY). 28. I need to wear a bicycle helmet even if it makes me look stupid. Brain damage will inevitably impact me much more than having helmet hair for an hour. 29. It is important and noble to root for the underdog. 30. It is weird that we use both the hours on a clock and years on earth to measure time. One is seen as cyclical and one is seen as linear Hours don’t stop passing, one hours rolls into the next and one day into the next, but our years inevitably will come to an end.

Birthday Text

My favorite birthday text that I received at 1:51am the day AFTER my birthday from a friend: "Happy fucking birthday. What is going on . Is your beautiful born! Let's celebrate and enjoy...-...!"

Yeeee Haw!

I'm leaving today for a trip to El Paso to visit my brother, sister-in-law and niece. I have been already instructed that I will not in fact be allowed to cross the border to visit the motherland, but I will settle for throwing something into the Rio Grande. I'm thinking about throwing my Ichiro bobblehead. The trip is bittersweet; I'm thrilled to visit and spend time with family, but there is a shadow because it is an opportunity to spend time with them before my brother deploys in January. I know, I know, enough with the heavy shit, but there it is, staring me in the face. *Le sigh.* The day after I get back I will commence with my classes and/or hitting on members of the new cohort. Eewww. I just grossed myself out. (But seriously, fingers crossed.) I went to the store to buy school supplies the other day and came home with a pencil sharpener shaped like a wiener dog and some post-its. I feel prepared.

Happy anniversary, darling!

Sometime around now is my one year anniversary with the fair city of Seattle. It has been a hard year for both of us, but I can safely say that we fight WAYYYY less than when we first got together. It also means that instead of falling flat on my face and flunking out of my PhD program (as planned), I actually have to begin my second year of it. Maybe nothing has changed in one year and maybe everything has changed, I'm not really sure. Here are the tangible signs I have lived her for one year: I am out of coffee filters, I know which side of the street to stand on to take the bus in the direction that I want to go, I have no fanciful notions about paying less than $4 for a pint of ANYTHING, and I also have no fanciful notions about strangers being nice/ talking to me (although I am more accustomed to being indiscriminately yelled at if I happen to be downtown at night). I love the Mariners even though no one else does, I still hate Pete Carroll, I am lukewarm about the Huskies (but that is mostly because I don't think I look good in purple), and Capitol Hill can take its hipster and pretension laden chaos and shove it...except for the hotdog stands. I love those things. Also, Pike Place is only bearable from Tuesday to Thursday during the morning when kids are at school. I really love it here and I hope Seattle and I can stay together for a long time.

The most bad-ass thing I've ever done

Yesterday I took my slightly hungover* ass downtown to the Municipal Court of Seattle for a mitigation hearing that I requested for a parking ticket that I received. Before you scoff at the silliness of such a thing, please know that parking tickets in my neighborhood are $44, and this was the second one I had received. The mitigating circumstances that I went to explain relate to the construction happening at the end of my block and the way that the construction company has just casually started putting up those no parking sandwich boards so that the construction workers have somewhere to park. (PS, none of these workers are doing anything to fulfill my cliche fantasies hard hats and neon). This is in addition to the spots that no longer exist because of the construction itself or the spots that have been taken by the signs alerting us to the construction. So I took some photos, wrote a nasty yet articulate letter and put on my biggest earrings. I read my letter to the judge, showed the photos the way the lawyers do on Law and Order and then I presented the coup de grace: I showed the judge the mitigation hearing notice that the court had sent me that had TWO SPELLING ERRORS. In a motherfuckin' court document. She was astonished and waived my fine. I spent the rest of the day with the biggest shit eating grin on my face that Seattle has seen since the days of Ken Griffey, Jr. Cue the Ice Cube. *Don't go getting any ideas about my hangover...at my age these things happen if I simply think about drinking or walk past one of those Pabst Blue Ribbon delivery trucks. Instant hangover.

Oh man.

Of the approximately four people who (intentionally) read my blog, all of you have probably thought at one point: "I would read this blog more if I didn't have to look at a pile of vomit while doing so." Well, I've thought a lot about that, and have considered changing the photo to this: If you look closely, that's the hair my brother pulled out of his shower drain. I got that charming photo via text message while I was trying to eat. HGUUUAH (vomit sound). You're welcome.

Secession

Dear Oregon, I'm breaking up with you, for realz this time. While I enjoyed your tree-covered majesty, pollen saturation, comforting laws regarding toplessness, and tepid politics for most of my three decades on this planet, I have moved on to other pastures. Don't try and win me back,I went to the DMV this morning and made it official. Now onto the real point of this blog (just kidding, there is no point):I was the fifth person in line outside the DMV this morning and some guy was having his grandpa hold his place in line and when he got back in line, I, in traditional jackass fashion, informed him where the end of the line actually was. He started stammering and I was like, "OHMYGOD, I'm joking!" He laughed nervously and then proceeded to stare at me while I ate my disgusting 8 grain roll from Starbucks. (Do yourself a favor and only order the unhealthy shit from that place). He then leaned over and said, "Don't worry, I'm a joker, too." Oh boy. My early morning jackassery was misinterpreted for flirting. He then sat next to me once we were permitted inside. He introduced himself to me and then invited me to his family's Indian restaurant. I do love some Indian food, but I do not want to spend the rest of my days telling that ridiculous story to everyone who asks how I met my husband. Also, Jesse is the least-convincing Indian name I have ever heard. In all seriousness (just kidding, there is no seriousness): I was able to procure a Washington driver's license and Washington plates for my car in under two hours, and under two hundred dollars. Sick.

The Snooki 8K

I ran my first race dressed entirely in clothing/accessories purchased from Forever 21 yesterday (even though I have no desire to be either forever or 21). The occasion was the Torchlight run in Seattle and it was amazing. It is the shortest race I have ever done, and the joy of having ZERO expectations and the joy of running in a neon pink leopard print mini skirt were both way better than trying to force myself to poop at 5:45am the day of a marathon. After the race I went to the Michelob Ultra Beer Garden and re-hydrated with, you guessed it, Michelob Ultra, which makes my precious Bud Light taste like that hoppy crap that Ninkasi makes. This evening I am forcing myself to do transcriptions until Breaking Bad comes on, and then afterwards I will force myself to do more transcriptions. I am transcribing these interviews my advisor did, and so when I slow the recording down and she says something seemingly benign like "Oh, yeah, yeah" it sounds like I am listening to her have sex. This is disturbing, and very difficult to erase from my brain. In fact, I'm never going to get that space in my brain back to use for anything else, and now neither will you. HA. Other thoughts: how hilarious was it that the USA women's beach volleyball team wore long sleeve turtlenecks on the sand today? I'm sure there was a collective sigh of disappointment around the world followed by "this is horseshit" and changing of channels. I myself reveled in the mindless objectification of men in speedos during the water polo match. I didn't watch the game so much as I waited for the camera to pan over to the bench. Second string players have never looked so good.

File under: why I'm lame

After writing my last post and then going to bed and trying unsuccessfully to sleep (it's my new favorite game), I laid in my bed wondering if I had put a comma in 'Put me in, coach!' My worry was completely justified because as I suspected, I did not. So the title of my last blog post reads like a command for someone to put me in the coach section of an airplane, which is the only place I've ever sat, anyway. Other things that can be filed in the same location: I look forward to doing interview transcriptions. I cooked kale tonight and it was FUCKING DELICIOUS.

Put me in coach!!!

Alright, as penance for never ever blogging, I plan to reveal several embarrassing things about myself in order that you might keep reading: 1) I go tanning. At a place called Seattle Sun. "Seattle Sun" is one of the better oxymorons I've ever heard in my life. It is staffed by people that cannot legally purchase alcohol, but they are just so PERKY and FRIENDLY. Also, going tanning is somehow positively correlated with my self-esteem that is otherwise fucked up beyond repair. Also, I've decided that because it makes me sweat so much in a 7 minute period, it's like the most toxic detox ever. And that makes me happy. 2) I am bad at bowling. 3) I am even worse at being bad at something graciously. 4) All of my passwords involve really stupid combinations of childhood pet names and childhood addresses. Go nuts with that one, internet. 5) I have toenail fungus. But only in one toenail. The other toenails have evolved and are now impenetrable by this nasty fungus that I blame on someone whose name rhymes with Cave Cominguez. Ok, I cannot possibly divulge anything else.

Why I hate the PNW

The other day at Green Lake park, a beautiful idyll of water and lawn and rollerbladers nestled in NW Seattle, I witnessed something that made me want to blow something up (preferably something combustible): there was a couple doing yoga whilst on their paddle boards. REALLYAREYOUKIDDINGMERIGHTNOW? One yuppie northwest sport wasn't enough? You had to downward dog on a paddleboard? These are the kind of people that I imagine trying to rock climb with their bicycle strapped to their back while drinking kale juice. These are also the kind of people that make me want to eat as much gluten as possible. However, I'm sure they're at home all like "did you see that girl drinking light beer AND watching baseball?" However, to prove that I do not hate yoga, I saw the coolest example of someone doing yoga in an unexpected place when a couple weeks ago at a bar by Safeco Field: a man (who I'm pretty sure was still drunk from the night before) did an impressive chair pose while yelling "CHAIR POSE!!!!" at the top of his lungs. This is the kind of person you expect to see being escorted naked off of the field during the 7th inning. Despite my aimless ramblings, my life here in gorgeous Rain City continues to be purposeful and amazing. Really the only thing missing is a French bakery that's closer to my apartament (you can file that comment under "shit white people say"). I hope you all have a great weekend. I leave you with this:

Of course

Of course I get a flat the ONLY TIME EVER IN MY LIFE that I ride my bike without the necessary components for changing a flat bicycle tire. It was not a disaster, I was within walking distance of a bike shop. But it was the first truly awesome day so everyone and their annoying children decided that today was the day to buy a bike. So I buy the tube and ask for levers and a pump so I can change the flat. Sounds simple. No. I get all situated and put a little bit of air in the new tube only to realize it has the wrong stem size and won't fit through the hole in the rim (uh, that's what she said?). Great. Back inside, to get another tube. Back outside where I start changing the flat again and this time Mr. I'm-S00000-helpful-and-tattooed-bike-mechanic offers to help me. Great. Fine. Change my flat because you think I don't know how. So, he brings the tire inside and says, "I'm just going to put a little more air in the tube to give it some shape" (something I totally know because of my awesome friend Cribzilla and the tire changing tutorial she gave me in the garage). So, fast forward and home slice is REALLY struggling with it. I mean, it is now taking him way longer than it would have taken me, which is OK, cuz I'm not getting black shit on my so cute summer dress. He continues to struggle and another bike mechanic comes up and tells him the EXACT thing: "Dude, you just need to put a little more air into it to give it some shape." HAAA!!! VINDICATION IS MINE!!! (I should pause here to say that everyone in the shop was super nice and they totally have my business in the future.) I miss you all terribly, dear readers. I hope there is sunshine where you are. I'll write more now that I have a lot of work to avoid. MUAH.

Poker

I will see whatever kind of day/week/month you are having, and raise you an itchy rash covering my torso that has no remedy and may last anywhere from 6 weeks-6 months! WOOOHOO! (That's the sound of me cheering for my rash). Seriously, I have a rash. It is called pidyriasis rosea, and if you google image it, (which you should only do if you're tired of googling things like "jock itch" or "eye herpes"), and just superimpose that image on my lovely torso. The best part about it being on my torso was flashing my doctor...too bad spring break was last week. I'll keep you posted, and if you're lucky, I'll post a pic. It may just be the pic that finally replaces the barf pic!

Upside? Some serious soul searching about just how attached I am to my physical appearance and its cool enough to one-up anyone that thinks its cool to turn their eyelids inside out at a party.

Downside? Did I mention that it ITCHES????? GAHHHHHH.

That is all.

Soup of the Day

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The juice ain't worth the squeeze

I spent the last week at Ft. Benning, Georgia, with my younger brother, his wife and their baby who is so adorable she might be edible. It was not your typical spring break (I couldn't find a beer bong anywhere), but it was relaxing and spent surrounded by family with all of their quirks and traits that you wish you hadn't inherited but it turns out you did. I don't know that I've ever been so relaxed; I slept a ton, and when I was awake all I did was play with a baby. It was like therapy. So for a change, I find myself absolutely incapable of getting fired up about anything...and I have a to-do list that looks like the following:

1)
2)
3)
4)
5)

Yep. It's blank. It's so blank, I might just have another cup of coffee and continue listening to my favorite songs over and over. I'm that kind of calm right now.

I survived last quarter (wherein I took 17 credits just for the hell of it), and this quarter I have only 12, and I have a research position that I am absolutely thrilled about! I'll keep you posted. At the end of the interview for this position, the faculty member stood up, showed me to the door, opened her arms and announced, "I'm a hugger!!" Oh geez...

Seattle continues to treat me well, although a week of 80+ temperatures in Georgia reminded me how good sunshine feels; I'm really looking forward to summer and REALLY jealous of all you fools in San Diego right now...someone please hug S and S for me, K? I hear next year's conference is in RENOOOOO! I'll start working on an abstract right now so I can be there and get married to all of you in a hotel parking lot in front of a lookalike Officer Stokes from CSI. Or maybe I'll get married to a lookalike Officer Stokes in front of y'all.

Two of my favorite things:

1) The AMC series The Walking Dead.
2) The song "Civilian" by Wye Oake that is in the trailer for above-mentioned zombie rom-com.

That is all. It is week 10 of my second quarter in graduate school and so far I've managed not to pack up all of my belongings and head for somewhere that doesn't have paved roads or passive-aggressiveness.

Also not art.

A poem for you:

"Daydreaming"

Running my thumb along my jawbone
I can't help but think of my
self as a skeleton. Long dead,
long enough that death is no longer
sad, or strange, or unexpected.

My skeletal self will do things my
fleshy self never did, like wear
a top hat, tap dance, listen to
heavy metal. Heartbreak will be
a thing of the past, my bones
have selective memory.

Eventually I will tire of
clattering down cobbled roads.
I will find a garden somewhere,
lay down inconspicuously and
imagine what it would be like to be alive.

Bummer.

Ichiro is a little disappointed that he's not hitting first in the lineup this year. But in other news...BASEBALL SEASON IS ALMOST HERE!

This is REALLY not art

First, a disclaimer: the image below may be offensive if you've never seen poorly drawn genitalia before.

You've already heard about my neighbors' rather annoying lack of awareness that I can hear absolutely everything they say. You also know that when it comes to roommates/neighbors, I've experienced a lot (awkward sexual encounters, heroin dealers, domestic disputes, fecal samples in the dorm fridge, etc). This is something entirely new. A couple of weeks ago, I awoke to an interesting smell: paint. I thought, "huh, someone must be painting something." (Witness my keen deductive powers!) Sure enough, a couple of days later, large paintings started appearing leaned against the wall in the back stairwell (you know, the one that you're supposed to keep clear in case stereotypically attractive firefighters need to rush up the stairs and save me). These paintings were mediocre at best. Lots of splotchy colors, with no apparent theme or subject. Clearly I'm not an artist. For someone else, these were probably amazing. Anyway, my only real annoyance is that they kind of jam up the back hallways and they kind of suck. However, last week I noticed that the artist had added some black lines that appeared rather abstract. Upon closer inspection, they are not abstract at all:



Can you find the vagina? How about the penis?

City life.

Yesterday I had my first encounter with the phenomenon of having your car blocked in by morons who park too close. Thank goodness I didn't actually need my car (I just like to drive it around and flip off people who choose to drive fuel-efficient vehicles). So I dutifully walked to the places I needed to go to and on my way home ran into my neighbor, Mike, who was sitting on his porch enjoying a mid-day Four Loko and a cigar. He is pretty much the shit. He's about 50 and drives pizza delivery for a place downtown, and generally greets me by yelling from his porch something along the lines of "Hey girl, (insert comment about sports/the weather/my outfit here)." He was very sympathetic to my plight of having my car blocked in, and went so far as to tell me whose car had blocked me in from the front. In his words, the car belonged to "that girl that lives in #4 with her brother. They don't say much. I think they're Greek." And in response to my car being blocked in: "That's fucked up." Yes, Mike, yes it is. So I met the girl that lives in #4, she's really nice, and she moved her car. The end.

What did you do today?

Oh, not much. Just read more than I thought was humanly possible. Have you ever watched someone try to drink a whole gallon of milk in one sitting? It is possible to get it all down, but impossible to KEEP it all down. Which is how I feel with the absurd amount of information I'm trying to ingest these days. Look out, I might hurl.

The weather was briefly lovely here in the land of Too Many People Wearing Those Stupid Toms Shoes Even Though They're Made of CLOTH and it is Raining Pretty Much all. The. Time. It is back to raining, which frankly, I prefer. If it is going to be freaking gorgeous and sunny outside, it needs to wait until there is not a stack of obscure and esoteric readings in front of me and also preferably when there is more/any money in my bank account.

Yesterday's KILL YOURSELF moment was provided by the dentist's office playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata while I was bleeding to do death from my gums.

Have a great day!

This ALSO actually happened

I more than others should be painfully aware of the importance of not being an arrogant grad school student just because I'm in grad school. I can be arrogant for other reasons (cough cough IRONMAN ahem), but not solely for being in grad school. I railed against the ivory tower that so many of my friends happily inhabited for years before joining them in it. All of this said, yesterday in class a noted scholar was referenced during class discussion, the professor had a couple of power point slides about his work and then out of nowhere, some complete jackass raises his hand and says "I just looked up the wikipedia page on said noted scholar, and it says..." Uh. ABSOLUTELY NOT. This is a scholar that having clearly not read, you should go home and actually read, and I do not mean the wikipedia page about him. JESUS. Wikipedia? In grad school? Who do I report you to? Ok, fit of arrogance is over. Back to the mundane, like the fact that as I'm writing this I have one of those Biore pore strips plastered to my nose. Or the fact that one of my friends was so drunk the other night/morning that I received a text at 4:19 in the morning from them that was simply the letter 'o.' That should help you all feel real good about yourselves today!

Vote Mitt Romney.

This actually happened.

On one of my many "let's see if this bus will take me where I need to go" adventures last week, I was witness to what is thus far the Craziest Fucking Thing that has happened while I was on a bus. There is a lot of competition for this title, so I take it very seriously. I was attempting to take the 48 after taking the 44, but oops, the road that the 48 goes on was under construction, so I was wandering a little aimlessly until I saw a major intersection where I thought surely there would be a bus stop. There was! There was also a man being frisked over the hood of a police car in front of what I can only assume is one of those Chinese Buffet/titty bar/prostitution fronts that Seattle is known for. So I get on the bus, trying to figure out if this will indeed take me where I need to go, when I realize that the man sitting across from me is apparently blind and trying to reach across the aisle and touch me because I smell good. No, really. This is what is happening! He is blindly groping through the air in my general direction because he says that "someone smells good." Christ. The one day I shower AND put on deoderant, this is what happens. He gets pretty darn close to touching me so I politely ask him not to. Fast forward to the next bus stop when a blind woman gets on the bus and through some cruel twist of fate sits down next to the groping blind man. She appears to be a professional woman in her 40s, he appears to be mentally ill and in his 30s. She has an actual cane, he has some sort of stick he has fashioned into a cane. He proceeds to tell her about his "blindness" which is not actually blindness (seeing as when she asked where he lived he gestured to the neighborhood we were in which HE COULDN'T EVEN SEE), but I'm not sure that this woman realizes that because SHE IS TRULY BLIND. I am watching all of this with some sort of horror/amusement combination. And then I missed my stop.

What grad school does to people

So I just got an invitation to go see a movie that included the title of the movie, name of the producer, location of theater, link to a trailer for the movie, and link to other theaters and their schedules in case I want to see a different movie. Apparently going to see a movie=dissertation proposal. Ha!

In other news, I have been invited to join an indoor soccer team. The team name is "kegs for legs" so I think me and my giant thighs should fit right in. However, I think they actually asked me to play not because of my athletic prowess, but rather because the team likes to go to trivia night at a pub after the games but no one on the team is from the US. I have a feeling they may be a little disappointed...

As you can see, my social life is really looking up(ish). That said, classes were cancelled today and I didn't get dressed or leave my apartment at 8pm and I only left to go buy wine. Don't be jealous.

A poem and a tweet.

Good afternoon, comrades. I greet you heartily after completing some much-needed empirical research in pursuit of the perfect bloody mary. I found a good one, but it was far too expensive to achieve my research goals.

In other EXCITING news, in an effort to be more disconnected from human beings and more connected to people who exist only in the internet, I have started tweeting. Which sounds vaguely dirty. You can find my fictional(ish) 140 character ramblings here: @DoloresCosmo. Dolores Cosmo is my witness protection name. Don't tell.

But to counter my increasing obsession with the internet/impersonal interaction, I have also challenged myself to write one poem every day. Some of these I translate into Spanish, too. I've been having a hard time coming up with titles, so I just call them "Today #___" So far, I'm up to "Today #7."

Today #2

In my small apartment
I set two chairs at
the kitchen table. I
thought that one looked
too lonely. So now
there are two chairs:
one for me
and
one for my loneliness.

Hoy #2

En mi pequeno apartamento
Puse dos sillas
a la mesa. Pense
que tener solo una
parece solitario.
Pues ahora hay dos sillas:
una para mi
y
una para mi soledad.

Year 1, Quarter 2: BRING. IT.

So...Yours Truly is taking 17 credits this quarter!!! And all 17 of those are guaranteed to make me look/sound smarter. Yeeeeah. All of my sociologists would be proud to know that I am taking Sociology of Education, Education for Liberation and Postmodern Analysis of Qualitative Research. Oh, and a special class called, "Drinking Through the Pain."

My apologies for the resolutions-related suspense, I have so much to tell you!
First, the December challenge has become the "I swear to god this shit starts tomorrow challenge." No, really, tomorrow! I promise! And, I guess you could say the push-ups got easier...BECAUSE I DIDN'T DO THEM! HA!

I made a list of immediate resolutions:
1) Shower
2) Clean out the closet
3) Buy groceries

I am pleased to announce that I have kept all of those.

I also made a list of resolutions that will either take me the full year to complete, or are something that I should think about for at least the rest of the year. I made the mistake of leaving the list on my parents' dining room table, so a couple of family members added to it. I'll let you surmise which ones those are (HINT: 6 and 7).
1) Do pull-up(s)
2) Ride bicycle in Seattle
3) Volunteer somewhere
4) Run a marathon (I'm thinking about Newport in June if anyone wants to join me/cheer for me/drink beer afterwards with me)
5) Visit the east coast
6) Call mom every two days
7) Read the bible.
8) Be good to myself/make decisions that are in my best interest.
9) Be balanced. Be centered. Be tranquil. Be calm.
10) Date a professional athlete. (But I'll settle for a Mariner or a Seahawk. HA!)

I wish all of you the very, very best in this year. Holler at your girl.