Adventures

It is probaly to my blogging advantage that I started this blog whilst visiting Seattle. I have things to write, a few tales to tell. A weariness and glow that comes only from not being where you are from. And so it goes:
Seattle thus far is:

Eating a oatmeal crepe filled with apples, walnuts and figs.

Exceeding bed-raggled hair.

Wet and friendly dogs everywhere in Ballard. A man hiding his wiener dog on the bus. Shivering twin Boston Terriers. Content and typically pampered poodles. Even the german shepards look friendly. German Shepards seem to me to come in two varieties. Loyal best friends or rip a toddlers throat out fierce. Now, i've only ever encountered the first kind, still, the stigma prevails. Apparently, dogs are the new children for yuppies who can't commit.

Me spending 50 dollars on dream boots. Upon returning to my cousin's apartment I realized they were pretty mediocre dream boots, and unable to return them because I don't have a reciept/ am to shy.

Wanting to live in a city where I can purchase freshly cut tulips or daffodils wrapped in brown paper.

Moss growing on trees, sidewalks and a homeless woman's jacket. She was eating a grapefruit, pulling at it with her fingers.

Me getting lost on my way to the International District, and walking so far I get blisters on my toes and heels. I consider myself too industrious to ask for directions.

Jaywalking.

Me watching the african wild dogs at the zoo sleep in a speckled, golden pile. Me thinking about how humans are meant to sleep next to one another, and me wanting to in a jumbled pile.

Me watching brown bears at the zoo sleep. Realizing I sleep in the identical poses. Knowing I look just as punch drunk and snore just as indifferntly.

Visiting Open Books: A Poem Emporium in Wellingford. The walls are white and the man there convinces me to sign up for a (free) membership, even though I live in Arizona.

Me talking to a variety of adults and older people but no one my own age.

Watching "Six Feet Under" with my cousin and her boyfriend.

Sweetest watermelon juice.

Wondering why in some movies a when a woman goes on a vacation she gets herself into a huge sexually active nondetrimental fling with a completely caring individual. Is that what it takes to makes a vacation or anything good? Isn't the journey enough?

Owning my first pair of Vans. I am not used to such creature comforts.

Tossing pieces of my breakfast cinnamon roll that are not covered in frosting or embedded with a raisin to sea gulls by the harbor. A young man passes by with a scrapping looking puppy and says. "You like feeding the birds, yes? Which one to you like?" "That one, " I say. "The bushy one with the spots. The juvenile." "You and your birds," he says. And also "Have a good day."

Not being able to write things down fast enough.

Not being able to go to Victoria, Canada via the ferry after all because it will cost over 300 dollars. Will take a ferry to the San Juans instead.

Seeing the "Juno" soundtrack on vinyl and thinking it's the stupidest hipster shit ever.

Me wanting to call Luke every second. (See above)

Watching sea otters at the Aquarium scratch themselves the way people do.

Surviving without an I pod.

Being reminded of my friends everwhere I go. Mostly through tunes. Xiu Xiu for Allie. (let me know if that's the incorrect spelling) Rooney for Lauren. Interpol for Kyle. I espied Antioch college, Tony. Wishing I had a friend to explore the city with. I like to be alone.

Actually telling a child at the zoo that I feed him to the tiger if he didn't stop being so rude. His mother kept lecturing him and his siblings. "Guys, it's not Elks. It's Elk. Just elk."

Making too much noise while writing this and being worried about waking up my cousin and her boyfriend, who I am pretty sure I gave a cold to. I was sick when I arrived here Friday. It took six hours for my ear to pop after I got off the plane. I am also worried that the glow of this laptop is reflecting off my white comforter on a rude manner.

Feeling an odd satasfaction of moving through all of this alone.