Sunday, February 27, 2011

I love my mum...

The ".com" Romance

So there is this new site called like-a-little. Where do I begin in explaining, good heavens to Betsy.

Library 2nd floor, female, blond hair: In a pink dress and lacy tights. You are stunning. We've been friends for a while but I haven't had the courage to tell you how I feel. I like you. <3

Lists and lists of these written by and dedicated to Seattle U students only. They are not all as polite as the above example.
On Thursday, my laundry status limited me to Maxwell's cub scout shirt. The result:

Bistro, Female, Brunette: You were wearing yellow boots and the boy scout shirt. You helped me make copies one time. You deserve a merit badge for copying and for being so damn sexy. Lets get together and start a fire ;)

What?? Ha ha...excuse me??

Keep in mind that these are completely anonymous, so I have no idea who this prancer is. To me, this means no more than some vagabond on the corner whistling as I walk by, especially with the "start a fire" comment. Girls are flattered by this? The generation amazes me.
I remember reassuring conversations with my mother after a terminated relationship. We talked about how great Seattle would be..The strong independent lady she is; reminding me I don't need any man. The hopeless romantic I am; Flowers are so cheap at the market, how will there not be romance everywhere?!

Well for those of you who don't live in Seattle: Don't be fooled...just because there is a famous 3 block market with one whole side nearly dedicated to selling beautiful cheap bouquets of flowers....does not, let me restate this for emphasis,  does NOT, mean that the lovely handsome men you bump into will buy them for you. Unless you count your father. Flowers he bought me in October still sit atop my counter.

Maybe it's because everyone is busy flirting via .coms, who knows...
I'm so glad I don't have to take a class on relationships. My GPA would suck.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

"someday"

..by definition..
 an indefinite future date
This could be taken two different ways; an indefinite future or an indefinite date. Neither of which seem extremely pacifying. So, when putting forth a promise of "someday", don't act surprised when that person to which you have done this to is uneasy about a few things.
 On a different note...
Oliver Pippin, my three month old rat, has a respiratory infection. The way we have treated her makes her sound like a human infant almost: trips to the drug store at one a.m. for pedialyte and organic baby food, doctor exams, daily antibiotics, etc. The trip to the vet was the most interesting experience I believe I have ever had with Seattle public transit. The bus from downtown to across the water..ultimately leaving us at a family run diner (not quiet the planned destination), left us three girls with migraines and clothes reeking of second hand whiskey breath and bus. Yet with all of my senses being on a general overload, all I could think of was Oliver. With her in a shoebox and the shoebox on my lap, I could feel her heartbeat against the walls and soon it felt like what I had in the box was really just a live heart...And speaking from experience, when traveling with live hearts, don't take a bus. Pay for the taxi.

Cerebral Branding

.
..

It rains here as often as I try not to smoke and it’s still not enough. Fliers become paper mached to the telephone poles and I never get home with dry socks. However, despite the melancholy atmosphere, this place…Capitol Hill has become my muse.
But truthfully, that isn’t what I feel like talking about.
There’s this guy, (isn’t there always…?) who I’ve decided has permanently branded my cerebral  cortex. Everything I once knew how to do, I don’t anymore, and all I have memorized now is how to be irrevocably in love with him. The only inspiration I get out of this buzzing city is due to the thought that possibly, one day soon, this place might also be his muse.
And so I wait. Under street lamps, in photo booths, at parties, in bookstores…and I write down every place I want you see.