Saturday, December 31, 2011

Well that was unpleasant.

Song for this post: "Breathe Me" ~ Sia

This post is the resolution of this post.

Welp. I did it.  This morning I showed up at the poor girl's yoga studio and told her the man she lives with is not just unfaithful, he's NEVER been faithful.  Why did I do it at her work, you ask?  It's the only place I knew he wouldn't be.

There are few times in my life that I've felt like such a supreme asshole. She was sweet. She was kind. She was pretty.  She absolutely didn't deserve to have her heart ripped out.  But if I didn't do it now, he would have done it later to a much more upsetting degree.  That's how he is.

He is possibly the most charming man I've ever met. I'm not confused for a moment as to why she didn't see who he really is. I didn't either.  I fell for it...just like she did.  It's so unbelievably fucked up that he uses us (and all other women) the way he does...that he treats us like these toys he can take off his shelf whenever he chooses to please him.  Narcissist.

She cried a lot and I hugged her. I felt like a liar hugging her because she should, rightfully, hate me.  I didn't know they were living together, true.  But I did know they were dating. In my defense, he made it sound like it was casual and totally non-committal. I wouldn't have proceeded otherwise.  I feel terrible for her. But I had to do the right thing.  My morality is ambiguous. I know that. I have a way of justifying my actions so that they seem less wrong...or lack any right/wrong definition at all. But I have to draw a line somewhere.  I have to have SOME integrity.  And watching a girl get her heart slowly ripped out of her by a man who's done it over and over and over again to lots of us just isn't something I can live with without feeling incredible guilt. I've been her.  I wished to God then that someone would have told me.  I refuse to do that to let her be humiliated in the end. She deserves the chance to be a strong woman and know the truth.

I gave her my number in case she had questions or needed to talk. I really do want to do whatever I can for her.  After all, I know exactly how she feels right now. If she decides to hate me, that's fine too. I'm not exactly blameless in this.

I just hope she listens to me and gets the hell away from him.

He's a really horrible person.

You know who else was devastatingly charming and handsome and smart and witty and could lure you in with a glance of his perfect eyes?

The devil.

Friday, December 30, 2011

Scott Baio

Song for this post: "Woman, I Love You" ~ Scott Baio

On Fridays a bunch of us at work have a "staff meeting" at the Alibi Room under Pike Market.  The bonus of working on 4th and Pike?  Well...really there aren't any downsides so...

Anyway, we know the bartender there. She's hilarious and always has a really funny story about something she experienced. So we go down there and they drink beer while I drink wine and we all eat pizza and listen to her fantastic stories.

Today's pizza was a bacon/feta something-or-another.  Except, when Chad asked what was on it and Rob said, "Its got bacon on there," I thought he said, "Scott Baio's on there."

I wish it had been true.

It begs the question though... What would be on a Scott Baio know...besides strippers?

I carry your heart with me...

Song for this post: "There's Hope Yet" ~ Raised By Swans

I want to thank the amazing family for being who they are, infecting all of us with their love, wisdom and peace, and allowing me to write about this. You are amazing people and I am blessed to know you.


I grew up in a small town. There was only one high school and each graduating class had around 200 students. Because of that, everyone knew each other.  I attended my senior year of high school with the same people I went to kindergarten with. We were all very close.

By the time I got to high school, different grade levels had started co-mingling and becoming friends. I hung out with a few girls in the class below me who went to my foster father's church.  They introduced me to their friends and their boyfriends. Everyone had fun and everyone was glad to spend time. At 16, experimentation was no big shock. I was always too afraid to do drugs or anything that I could get into any kind of real trouble for. But some of my best memories are of us all hanging out on summer nights, drinking beers, smoking cigerettes (and for some, pot) and listening to Isaac play the guitar.

In the years leading up to that my best friend, who had also become my foster sister, had had a huge crush on Isaac's older brother. We'd hung out with him a number of times and, secretly, I guess I had a crush too.  I think any underclassmen's heart skips a beat a little when you get to spend time with the cool upper classmen. And he was cool.  He had an impressive disregard for the conservatism of our small town but managed to maneuver through it, doing whatever he pleased with a smile on his face.  Everyone loved him.  He continues to be one of the friendliest, most genuine people who ever came out of that small town.  His little brother, the guitar player, grew up to be much the same: incredibly kind, funny, charming, and eager to make those around him laugh and feel good.  The two of them were the type of boys who light up the world around them. And the apple didn't fall far from the tree.  Their parents were the coolest parents I knew...the kind EVERY kid wishes they had.  The boys called their parents by their first names and the dad was one funny guy. I clearly remember hanging out at their house once and being shocked by their father, who had come in with an antique flight helmet on his head, goggles, swim trunks, and was holding some kind of cocktail in his hand.  It was like a softcore scene out of a Hunter S. Thompson novel.

As the little brother got older my two worlds combined: us girls pining after the older brother and my new friends from church hanging out with the younger.  It was a good time in my life; long summers, group get-togethers, hours and hours of music and singing and creating bonds that last a lifetime. Eventually we all graduated and left that town. Some moved back to create families and businesses.  Some created new lives elsewhere. We all still love each retrospect, I wish I would have spent more time.  It's true that, if you don't say it now, you may never get your chance.

The younger brother suffered from a mood disorder.  The same one I do. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder years ago and have taken medication ever since.  I'm thankful for the medication and have learned through trial and error that life without the medication is a very dark place for me. I've also learned that mood stabilizing medications create a chemical and PERMANENT change in your brain.  You're worse off getting off of them than you were before you ever took them. I guess this means that I'll most likely be on them forever. And that's okay. I like being stable and happy and able to sleep at night and not debilitatingly frozen by a crushing despair.  Sure, the majority of "us" go through periods where we think we're cured. We feel better. The therapy and medication worked.  And we get off of our medication. What we don't realize is that it's the medication that's making us feel that way. Take that out of the equation and things can get real really fast.  What most people also don't know is that insanity is a sneaky mistress.  She sneaks up on us cleverly and takes us over before we know it. There's never time to get back on the medication before she takes hold. She goes from silent to screaming with no in between.

I was working as a waitress in a casino at the time.  A few of my coworkers were friends with my childhood friends.  As I said, it was a small town.  Christmas had just passed and everyone was in great spirits.  I think it was around 9:00 PM on New Year's Eve when I was clearing a table from some customers who had just left when one of my favorite coworkers approached. A mutual childhood friend of ours had just had twins and my coworker had been coming up to me at work nearly daily to discuss how the family was doing.  I assumed that's what was going to happen as he approached. But he wasn't smiling...and he looked concerned.

When he closed the distance between us a hand went to my shoulder as if bracing me and loving me at the same time. He leaned very closely in to my ear and, in a voice just above a whisper, he said, "Isaac is dead."

It's funny how the brain interprets the world around it. My memory is quite literally of the room spinning and then time stopping.  I had fainted.  Right then and there my eyes fluttered shut and I dropped to the ground.

I woke up a minute later or so in the kitchen. Two of the male employees had picked me up and moved me. My coworker friend was there in front of me, a look of worry and concern sweeping across his face. I remembered what he had said to me moments ago.

This has to be some kind of sick joke. This can't be real. Why would he say that? What a cruel thing for him to do.

My coworker friend swept a piece of hair out of my eye and said it again.  "Isaac is dead."

"How did it happen?" I asked.

"I'm not going to tell you that," he responded. "You don't want to know.

I became angry. "Tell me!  I want to know."

My coworker friend's shoulders slumped in defeat. "He shot himself Danielle." He continued with more details...details that wouldn't be right to mention here.

All I could do was cry. And cry. And cry some more.

Days passed.  It felt like one of those scenes in a movie where the character stands perfectly still and the world around them is sped up.  The funeral came. I went with my mother and a close friend.  It was held at the local performing arts theatre.  It was a grand, antique theatre with red velvet seats, gold leafed pillars and a great domed, painted glass ceiling that's always reminded me of the Sistine Chapel. I grew up in that theatre. When I was a little girl my father was a sound tech there so I got to watch shows for free and crawl around the secret spaces between the walls and in the ceiling.  It was a magical world for me then.  All that magic died in that funeral.

I'm assuming it was held there because Isaac was an incredible musician. He'd taken 6th (at least, that's how I remember it) in the nation in a Jimi Hendrix guitar playing contest. Maybe they thought a theatre was the appropriate venue...and they'd be right. I'm thankful they held it there...any other location wouldn't have had the space to house the HUNDREDS of people who showed up. That's what was amazing about Isaac. He touched the lives of so many people with his talent, his joy, his infectious love, and his incredible smile that would light up the room. The greatest ones tinker on the edge of genius and madness.  Isaac's love was infectious, yes. But his illness had infected his heart.

Another childhood friend of mine sang a song on the stage for him.  She has always had a voice like a bird and, hearing such a beautiful voice sing such sad music, and hearing her choke up and struggle to get through it was heartbreaking. My mother and my friend and I held hands through the ceremony and cried together. Everyone hugged, whether we knew each other or not. When it was over, we all filed out of the theatre.  The sun hit our tear stained eyes like fire. I remember thinking how abnormally bright it it hurt my eyes after crying so much.  Standing on that sidewalk after experiencing something so tragic in that theatre felt out of none of us belonged in the world at that we'd returned from a long journey through another world, a much sadder world, and had been bound together by an experience we all wished we could undo.

There was a reception at the civic center. We all sat and talked and ate and hugged. We all tried to smile.  A line formed to give our condolences to the family.  I waited my turn and, when I approached Isaac's parents I choked back the part of me that wanted to cry. I had no right to cry in front of them, I thought.  I told them I was sorry for their loss...that I loved them all.  I teared up.  Isaac's father hugged me. I was so shocked by that. He had lost his son and he was consoling me. He patted my head and stroked my hair a little.  He said he knew Isaac enjoyed our friendship very much. I felt so guilty, so horribly selfish for tearing up and allowing someone who should be wrapped in a hug the size of the world console me. I had made him and his wife a lasagna. I had tried to be thoughtful. But I had forgotten to bring it with me. I told him this. I'm not sure why. I guess I wanted him to know that I did care...I wanted to be there for them.  I told him I would bring it by their house.  He smiled and said thank you.  He always was such a nice man.  As I said before, they were the kind of parents you wish were yours.

I never did take the lasagna to them. After that day it just felt wrong; to invade their space while they were mourning.  I couldn't bring myself to do it, to make myself a part of their world.

It's been 6 years today. Since then, I've gotten off of my own medication twice.  Twice I've thought the same thing that so many think, "I feel better. I'm cured. I don't need the pills anymore."  I'm thankful to still be here. But I'm so sad that it's what happened to him that terrified me enough to get back on the medication.  I'm so terrified to feel like how he did. And there's a part of my heart that breaks for him every day because I do know EXACTLY what he felt like in the weeks leading up to his final choice.  I've been there. I know that feeling of desperation.  I wish I could have been there to tell him I was the same and it DOES get better.  I want to shake my fists at him and scream and cry out and say, "IT LIES TO YOU! CAN'T YOU SEE IT LIES?!?!?" I want to hold him until the lies subside and tell him to be passes. I want to smile with him when it does...

A very selfish part of me feels like, because I can identify with him so much, maybe a small glimmer of him lives in my memory.  His life and what he went through consciously influences my decisions for my own mental health every day of my life.

I think about him often...not just because we both struggled with the same illness...but because he was my friend. And I love him. And I will love him forever.

And I miss him.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)
i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant 
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Yum Yum Guaranteed

Had a mad craving for Thai food today. Fortunately, downtown Seattle is positively FILLED with hole-in-the-wall restaurants and really cheap food.  My personal favorite is Pabla Indian Cuisine on 2nd between Pike and Pine (I work on 4th & Pike). Best Indian buffet EVER.

But, for Thai food, it's all about Mae Phim's new Pike Market location.  You can order online and, if it's more than $26 (oddly specific amount IMHO) they'll even deliver to your office.  Lunch specials are only $5.95 and they guarantee yumminess:

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Things delivered to the front desk (1)

Song for this post: "Ne Me Quitte Pas" ~ Nina Simone


Just received an embarrassing display of flowers at our front desk...

And couldn't be more elated about it.  I realize they are apology flowers but  I was never upset about anything so, to me, they're just about the best thing ever.

Well done, Mister.


For some reason, things are often delivered to the front desk for me...cupcakes, flowers, phones, cards...I'm going to start tracking them in a series here. Check out the cupcakes my family sent for my birthday.

"Ekam Sataha Vipraha Bahudha Vadanti"

Song for this post: "Requiem in D minor K626: I Requiem" ~ WA Mozart

"The truth is one, but different sages call it by different names."

I never did finish my Lump sequence yesterday.  I bailed before I got to Lump 3 in the daily news (which was Seattle's ban on plastic grocery bags).  I tend to do that, start something, get distracted, and forget.

So...moving on!

I'm trying to finish writing a novel so I can move on to it's sequel. Problem is, there's a TON of research that has yet to be done for book 2 and, anyone who knows me knows, I LOVE research.  So I started studying Hinduism and am having a REALLY hard time putting it down.  It's just such a beautiful point of view. If there's one thing I despise most about the Western World, it's our limited understanding of any culture that doesn't mirror our own.  We measure all other faiths against our Western Christianity (a system steeped with dry, boring, lifeless traditions and violence) and don't readily have available any kind of means to really explore others without bias.

I made a decision a long time ago that, when the book publishes (as well as the following 6) I will take a tour of the locations of each book. I'm really looking forward to book 2 (Eastern and Southern Europe and the Middle East).

It just kind of shocks me that, after all of the war in the Middle East we've had and my own Christian upbringing that I should identify more with their faiths than those of my homeland.  It's not just Hinduism I find fascinating, Islam is really incredible as well.  It's a faith focused heavily on loyalty and brotherhood and devotion.  It's difficult for me to dislike anyone for being true to their beliefs and their own, personal sense of what's true, right, and just. After all, truth is merely a point of view. Thank you Nietzsche.

I have so many problems with the war(s) we are fighting.  Primarily, I feel so guilty that our country assumed superiority over an ENTIRE belief system thousands of years older than our own and stormed in to destroy it. The Iraqi people base their governmental system on Islam, a faith much much older, rich in tradition and established than even our own Christianity.  To challenge that and deem their system of ethics as morally wrong seems really arrogant to me. Do aspects of their system feel wrong to us? Absolutely. But morality is ambiguous at best and based entirely on the given system it resides in. "Liberating" Iraq from its Sodom is exactly that: destroying a system based on the comparison to our own because our limited viewpoint can see nothing else.

Not sure if you knew, but Allah IS God.  Allah are the letters for the name for God:

Alif, Lam, Lam, Haa.

Oh hey...that sounds familiar. Maybe that's because it's close to Hebrew:

Alef, Lamed, Lamed, Hei.

You know what that means?  God.

It's even argued that, during the crucifixtion, when Jesus cried, "Eloi Eloi Lama Sabachtani" that the translation was incorrect. It should have been "Elah (same as Allah in Aramaic) Elah Lama Sabachtani).

You see? It all comes down to the same monotheistic deity. Perhaps we should be arguing our henotheistic differences instead? Except, we can't do that either. Our own Christian God said, "Thou shalt not worship other gods."  God never said other gods didn't exist. So that makes Christianity henotheistic as also means that the vast majority of Christians have a very limited awareness of their own faith and the history and tradition behind it. Valentinian Christianity was packed FULL of other gods.  Coptic Christianity had gods killing and screwing each other and doin' it with angels left and right. I bet your Pastor never told you that.  I bet you never thought to read about it.  Typical.

When you break it down further, no matter how you spin it, we shouldn't have gotten involved. Religious war has existed in that area of the world for more than 3 millenia. Think about how long that is. It's one of the very few constant factors of the civilizing of this planet throughout history.  Whole continents have shifted during that time. Entire species have come and gone. Religious war has existed there since the beginning of the god religions dating all the way back to 3,000 BC. Incredible. And what are the opposing forces in this war?  Islam and Christianity (their view of us)...the 2 LARGEST god religions on the planet. And here we are again, us Christians with our violence and our petulant, dead god, storming in and wiping out their culture. From their point of view, we (Christians by way of the Western World) have been doing it for as long as their have been written and oral traditions.


The world's lack of tolerance hurts my heart.

Is it our fault? No.
Is it theirs? No.
Have thousands died? Sadly, yes.
And when it comes down to it, we are all following the exact same pattern that's been done time and time again in that region with no awareness that it's completely unoriginal.  What happened to making sure history doesn't repeat itself? Or learning from our fathers?

It all seems so senseless when you step back and look at the war through the eyes of 3 millenia.

How  exhausting we are in our arrogant, self-entitled, infancy.

If you have some confusion about the many, many names for whatever it is we deem as God or the godhead and the beauty we feel in it throughout many many, diverse religions, let this Islamic sound be educational to you.  It's the 99 known names for God...chanted in the Islamic faith.  And I cry when I hear it.

Long post. I'll only do one more today and I promise I'll make it a short, funny one.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

"Why not leave death to the mortals?"

Song for this post: "Bones" ~ CC Adcock & The Lafayette Marquis

If you haven't read "The Life of Pi" yet. Do. Now.

I started it yesterday on my trip back to Seattle and love it so far. Beautiful story line mixed with poignant and thought provoking views on religion, politics, humane treatment of animals, and society. Kind of awesome and INCREDIBLY quotable (my favorite...because I'm that pretentious, book-memorizing a-hole).
‎"The reason death sticks so closely to life isn't biological necessity - it's envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it; a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud."
I'm seriously hoping it's adapted for the big screen. I think it would make a spectacular, the kind that Tom Hanks has a hand in producing. For rlz.

Buy it for Kindle here


Don't read it. The end sucks. I'm still pissed.

Two truths and a lie (Lump 2)

Song for this post: "True Colors" ~ Cyndi Lauper

Lump 2:

You know those bell ringers that stand outside of every possible storefront during the holiday season and ring those damn gold colored bells in your ear until your head is splitting in two?

Makes you feel so festive doesn't it?

Are you one of the many who did your good deed for the season and dropped a bill in their little, clear orb-shaped container?  Did it make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?

Good. I'm about to rip that feeling of love and charity away from you like the evil devil I am.

The Salvation Army is the mastermind behind the seasonal bell ringing. It's an initiative started years ago to collect funds for the needy and inspire hope in the public during a season filled with love and giving.  Having worked for a homeless charity, I absolutely see the value in this. I have incredible amounts of sympathy for the less fortunate.  Thanks to my time at the shelter, I know a great deal of them here in the Seattle area.  But, unlike the charity I worked for that boasted basic Christian principles, The Salvation Army has a long history of political involvement in some pretty controversial issues. I'm not saying don't give to the needy. I'm just saying, know what your dollars are going to.  ALL charities use some of those donations to cover operational costs.  So, for The Salvation Army, what are those costs?

Some of those dollars are going towards an anti-gay agenda that TSA is so dedicated to, it's a little shocking they have a good name in this social climate at all.  They aren't just vehemently against gay rights, they oppose gay marriage, employment of homosexuals, charitable provisions for homosexuals, and ask that all homosexuals live a life of celibacy. They even lobbied to kill a bill in New Zealand that would decriminalize same gender sexual relations.

I realize the slippery slope outing them might create. Getting people to give of themselves at all is difficult. Trust me. I know. I worked in that arena. Taking away the one thing you're giving to likely means you'll stop altogether.

Please don't. There are a number of charities in the Greater Seattle Area that use your funds to help those in need without the political lobbying and hate-agenda. Do your part. It's incredible how easy it is.  All I ask is, when you do your part, KNOW what you're doing and what affect that contribution will have.

Charity has a sociological impact just like vegetarianism and environmentalism.  If you're a vegetarian, GREAT! Know why you are what you are. Know the difference between eating animal and eating products that are made with animal bi-products. Want to drive a hybrid and help the environment? AWESOME!  Learn about hybrid batteries and how awful they are for the planet.  Want to donate to a charity and help mankind?  FANTASTIC!  Learn about that charity's political history and READ THEIR MISSION STATEMENT. Ask to talk to other donors and volunteers.

Making a positive impact on the world is easy. I just ask that you educate yourselves and leave the hypocrisy to the assholes (you The Salvation Army).

If you are in the Seattle Area and want to make a difference (and PLEASE, it's SO needed) the Seattle Foundation works with hundreds of local charities that you can access from their website:

I feel like I should get a medal for all this link-back action. 


Song for this post: "Hollaback Girl" ~ Gwen Stefani

Self awareness is the key to happiness...

I went to the salon on my lunch to get some festive New Year's Eve nail color and figured I may as well get a brow wax while I was there.  I asked the polite little thing who was buffing my nails to please wax my eyebrows when she was done.

She looked at the top of my face. Then the bottom. Then the top. Then the bottom again.  Then she said, "You want lip too?"

No. Surely you must be mistaken. I don't have a ladies mustache.  I'm not one of those. Please. Just the eyebrows.

She narrowed her eyes at me quite seriously for a moment, leaned in and, in a quiet and stern voice said, "You do lip too."

Okay. Fine.

10 fingers, two eyebrows and a lip later I have to admit, I'm a little shaken up about it. was fine blonde hair that no one would have noticed but her, but still...the little strip covered in wax and baby-fine, half invisible hair doesn't lie.

I feel both less pretty and more pretty now that I've discovered it and resolved the issue.

Nothin' like a day spa to put things back in perspective, humble yourself, and force the glaring truth into the blinding, cold and heartless light.

In similar news:  LOOK!  PRETTY GOLD SPARKLES!  ::squeals like a child and claps her hands::

I will now hunt, meticulously, through all of my photos for evidence of this new discovery so I can yank them from Facebook and the harsh lights of the public in an irrational panic.

Oh hey..while I'm thinkin' about it...

I passed this on my way to the nail salon and fell in love. It's a new, silly sculpture that just went up in June.  Read about it here.

Two truths and a lie (Lump 1)

Song for this post: "Wars" ~ Hurt

Have you ever played that game where you're supposed to list of 2 truths and 1 lie and see if anyone can guess which one was the lie?  Fun right? Kind of like today's news: 2 articles that put a lump in my throat and one that I  can't stop staring at with incredulity.

(I'm reading The Stranger today...I read a lot of news sources and list them're welcome for the link backs guys!)

Lump 1:

I'm sure all of you who live near me have been paying attention to the war criminals we call Seattle police, right? I don't even know where to begin with these animals. Really.  Our police force is put there by US to protect US and keep the peace. Not to use "excessive force" in an "unconstitutional manner 20 percent of the time."

After many many complaints, protests like this annual march, an investigation by the DOJ and some pretty incriminating videos of police violence leaked to KING5 News, the local police department isn't reforming, it's acting like a group of stubborn adolescents.
The problem stems from the city's contract with the Seattle Police Officers' Guild (SPOG), which represent more than 1,250 uniformed officers. To get a sense of its political leanings: The group's membership has sought to repeal race and social justice training, said it was "outraged" by the city council's 11 recommendations last year to increase police accountability, and even called to have the city attorney arrested. 
Didjya read that?!?!  They want to repeal race and social justice training!??!?!  I'm sorry. I think I just hallucinated.  I thought this was 2011 not 1942. I also thought I lived in one of the most liberal cities in the continental US.  Apparently I was mistaken and this is actually Alabama (no offense Alabamans but, well, you know it's true).

Don't believe how HORRIBLE our boys in blue are?  How about this video: (NOT okay for children)

Kinda makes you want to join me in the annual anti-police brutality march doesn't it? Also kind of makes me want to curb stomp the fucker in that uniform for being the worst representation of a man and a human I've seen in a long time.

I'll send a gift basket to anyone who can track down his name...seriously...

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Something special for the children

I know. Today's posts are all introspective and political.  I'm sorry for bummin' you out, buddy.

Here. Have a little something for the children to turn that frown upside down:

Oh hey and chickity check it...a new bloggy thingy:

Grab your bags. We're jumping off the train.

Song for this post: "Oppression" ~ Ben Harper

Taken from the Capitol Hill Seattle Blog:

The Occupy Seattle effort has shifted to meeting for its general assembly at the Washington Convention Center. In Tuesday night's session, a long debate ended in the group rejecting a motion to "commit to using methods of non-violent civil disobedience at all of our demonstrations and define violence as 'unprovoked physical aggression,'" according to minutes published at
"Society is an act of unprovoked violence," one speaker is quoted as saying in opposition to the proposal. "Revolutionary violence we're seeing across the world would be considered nonviolence. We're hung up on the word. To invoke the letter from Cairo: wish not to use violence, but wish not to lose.
Correct me if I'm wrong, because this language is a little confusing. But, if I'm reading it right, Occupiers are basically graying the line of what's "violent" and "non-violent" demonstrations.  So they can graffiti our local businesses, destroy private property, cost blue collar workers $2 million dollars in lost wages, and are now, in no uncertain terms, okay with violence in protesting? Shed a little light on this, Dustin?

Will someone from Occupy Wallstreet please head over to Seattle and tell these little baby anarchists to head home? They're fucking up the vision.

Seriously, though... I understand how, in fighting for a right or a belief, you can start to become so invested and, sometimes, desperate. This is where the idea that "the end justifies the means" can come in to play. And that's what's happening here. "Wish not to use violence but wish not to lose." So, they hope for peaceful change but, if it comes to violence, than it's justified for the sake of change.

There was another dude who believed the end justified the means who affected large scale change on a global level. In fact, he single handedly redefined the Macchiavellian term and put it on the map forever.

His name was Adolf Hitler.


"Everyday, it will rain, rain, rain..."

Song for this post: "It Will Rain" Bruno Mars

Yesterday was winter Equinox.  That means it was not just the darkest day of the year but also the shortest.  It doesn't just mark the start of some blisteringly cold weather, it marks the beginning of longer days, more light and growing things. Everyone in the office today is talking about Equinox in these overly animated tones.  Everyone knows what it means.  Everyone is excited.

If you don't live in Seattle you probably don't understand how you can go a little stir crazy here.  It's not uncommon to go months at a time without seeing the sun. I'm not saying it's all "Juno, AK" up in here...but the overcast can be oppressive.  So equinox here is kind of a big means we made it.  :) I mean, srsly. We have the highest suicide rate in the country.  That means something. It takes a certain kind of personality to deal with the constant overcast here. I happen to really enjoy it. We absolutely DO NOT take the sun for granted. When it shows up, we go batshit for it. When I first moved here I called Seattlites "Sun Gods" because, every time it comes out, it's like a damn festival here.

Today is one of the very rare days in the winter here when the sun is out.  All I can think about is spring and resuming outdoor running and kayaking and NEVER. GOING. INSIDE. AGAIN.  All I want to do right now is tie on some running shoes, hit the pavement, and run until I either figure out how to fly, or fall down from exhaustion.  You may run to super high impact techno or rap or something. I run to songs that make me so retardedly joyous to be alive that I can't help but smile and laugh. That feeling, combined with the endorphins of a good run equals the most amazing high ever.  Song for this post? Bruno Mars' "It Will Rain." AWESOME song to run to. I LOVE running. I love it for the physical activity and the conditioning but more for the mental health aspects of it. My playlist is such that, on a typical 4 mile run, if I haven't moved through anger to desperation to sadness to elation emotionally, I haven't done it right. It's not uncommon to find me along Lake Washington, or in the woods at Frink Park running to a beat and either crying or laughing. Running, for me, is an opportunity to feel life and all of the sensations it offers on a very deep and present level and let it be overwhelming because I'll run it off and be fine.  I say this because, historically, I'm not very good at feeling things. I'm a big bottler and tend to fear feeling any emotion strongly because, for me, I feel like it poisons my body and is difficult to purge. Running is a way for me to condition AND work through issues.  I suffer a bit in winter because I'm restricted to a treadmill and that's basically equating myself to a damn mouse on a wheel. It doesn't even come close to acceptable. But the equinox...that means that we aren't far away from longer days. And that is reason to rejoice. Also, the song for this post is an incredible pacing song.  You can run FOREVER at that pace. Check out an incredibly understated but outstanding performance of the song here. The use of lighting is incredible. I tear up and get goose bumps every time from the combination of visual and audio.

Unfortunately, today's sun also means that I'm effectively blind.  Draw back of living in the most overcast city in the continental US?  Over time, your eyes ACTUALLY lose pigment and you can become a tiny bit photo sensitive. I already have light green eyes and take a medication that makes me sensitive to light.  So, when the sun peaks its head out during winter here, it's SO incredibly bright and overwhelming that we all shriek in terror and cover our faces with our hands like evil vampires who are about to burst into flames.  Today? Headache.  Thanks sun. You're a real asshole.

PHOTO OP: I don't have any idea where this originated, but Pioneer Square (the heart of Seattle) covers its trees in hand knitted "sweaters."  You know... "tree huggers."  We like for our trees to stay warm in the winter.  It's also adorably crafty and cozy and makes you feel like we all really care.  And it's really pretty. :) This picture is of Occidental Park in the heart of Pioneer Square.  There's an amazing building just out of shot that is completely covered in ivy and has a book store and the most amazing and beautiful cafe you'll ever find.  It's an old train station that was converted into this cavernous cafe with huge vaulted ceilings, stone flooring, and gothic fire places.  Grand Central Bakery.  Check it out...try some of the fresh baked bread they're known for.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Work is hard work.

Song for this post: "Back to Black" ~ Amy Winehouse

I was just informed that our office holiday lounge will be set up and ready for business as of tomorrow morning. It's a liquor bar that's apparently set up just before Christmas every year so we can all drink our faces off, in the office, for the duration of our work days up until New Year's Eve.

Have I told you how much I love working here?

Nothin' like a work Bloody Mary to jump start the creative process.

...yes. I realize my job is awesome.

I ate my twin.

Song of the day:

Billy Corgan used to be such a god.

Also...creepy.  Just sayin'...[Twinsies!!!]

I'm going to try to remember to start each post with a song link...because, you know, setting the mood is awesome and I'm super suave like that.  I will use a Spotify link. This will accomplish two things:

  1. Force you to sign up for Spotify if you want to hear it (but trust, it's worth it). If you're unclear on why Spotify is the COOLEST THING EVAR feel free to PM me.  I'll be their spokesperson. You're welcome corporate assholes.  You can send my check to my paypal account.
  2. We can share playlists once you're on it, thus discovering new music and understanding each other on a deeper level every day...because, you is deep, yo!

Points to the proverbial ethical line.

Sure. Let's be childish and bitter...

Parenthetical aside: (I the last post I said I wouldn't turn this into a diatribe. What can I say? I'm a girl. I offend reason).

Let's talk about this man: (or "Let's talk about this, Man!)

We dated for a while. We got along great. It ended when he wasn't ready to commit. And that was okay. I mean, he did tell me once that he doesn't believe in monogamy and never will. But he said no one understood him like I did...that I was special...that we connected. He said a lot of horseshit that I've since learned are HUGE red flags. He also said, "What girls don't know, doesn't hurt them." We ended up being good friends and have continued running together, having cocktails, watching James Bond flicks in his living room and, occasionally, sleeping together (but only when I was single because, like some others, I have an ethical line that I don't cross). The last time we were together was November 3rd.  The last time he asked to get together was December 13th.

Hey guess what?  I learned something AWESOME last week.  Wanna know what it is?

This is his LIVE IN girlfriend. She actually seems really awesome. She has no idea I exist. Yep. That happened. I realize it's the oldest tale in the book but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a bitch when it happens. I asked him why he didn't tell me they lived together. He said, "I don't know how I got into this mess." It gets worse though. When I told him this wasn't okay and that I felt guilty he said I had "no reason to feel guilty."  He said I should know what he is by now and that he compartmentalizes his life. He said I had no reason to feel guilty about what he was doing to her. That's kind of a big F U to Miss Almost Wifey isn't it?

I asked him if he loved her. He told me it was none of my business. I cried a bunch like a small, disturbed child.

I'm not saying my moral compass points north (or any hard direction, really) but a line has to be drawn somewhere.  Integrity isn't something I hold in spades but I need at least some.


For those who know me IRL, isn't there a seriously disturbing resemblance between the two of us?!?! Just sayin'...

Point of note:  Names were not used here for legal reasons.

Brief Brevity or "Beef Bourguignon"

Okay. I'll be brief on this...I don't want to pollute all of this shallowness and pithy repartee with actual content.

I get the whole Occupy movement. I do. I'm on board. Go freedom and equality!  I'm not going to get into the [MANY] hypocrisies of the movement, nor will I discuss how incredibly  flawed I think it is to live in a country that's BASED on capitalism and then bitch about capitalism...because that would make this a pseudo-political, culture-relevant diatribe-type blog and that's just not me.  There are pluses and minuses to any movement and democracies, historically, go through this.  Chalk it up to growing pains. But ask me about it when you see me out on the town shitfaced.  I'll probably say something I regret then.  Good times for all!


Occupy Seattle has moved in to my neighborhood. This comes after living in tents on a college campus, vandalizing businesses, and shutting down the port (which cost 35,000 labor jobs almost $2 million dollars in lost wages (I know...fuckin' hypocrites).   They now reside in a large house down the street from my own in the Central District of Seattle. They have "remodeled" [read: destroyed] the shit out of it, trespassed on the elementary school's property to recruit children,  graffitied locally owned businesses, and are now spray painting private homes designed in post-modernist architectural themes...because, apparently, they are an  "ugly, cubist-fascist-brutalistic style." Yeah...because that's a political position that's going to free the common working man from the shackles of corporate gains.  Sure. Assholes.

I'm tired of them. Every time they vandalize a locally owned business in my neighborhood that business owner (many of whom are middle/lower class single parents trying to make ends meet) are required by law to correct the vandalism.  That means you Occupiers are hurting the very thing you're supposed to be standing for.

You don't make sense never really did to begin with. Other cities may have their shit together (shout out to Occupy Wallstreet...good job guys!) but you pathetic, upper-middle class, overly privileged  quasi-political, community college extremist, asshole cliches here in Seattle need to wrap it up and head back to your parents' house in Clyde Hill...because let's face it. Those of us who ARE the people you're supposed to be standing up for don't appreciate your bullshit.


Okay fine. I'll list my news source: You're welcome for the link back, Central District News.


Well hello there, me. I like you.

At the beginning of 2011 I had 2 1/2 foot long, dark brown, glorious hair. It took me 8 years, 2 failed engagements, a massive car accident, and a major move to a brand new life to grow it all out.  Vain? Sure.

I went to a salon (the top rated one in Seattle) last May to pull some of the dark brown out. I wanted to be a semi-red head, what can I say? And they fried it. They fried it SO much they had to hack off 9 inches without telling me. When I noticed the first chop, it was too late. So, since then it's been a juggernaut of monthly changes.

A year of hair in review:

    April, 2011                                         May, 2011

    July, 2011                                       August, 2011

    September, 2011                      And of course, today...

So I guess my point is...

Think twice before you mess with your hair, ladies.  In the end, I ended up brunette...and I'm growing it out.  So I'll end up right back where I started.

Seems like a lot of pointless pain and superficial anguish doesn't it?  

...I never said girls were reasonable.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

"His penis got diseases from a Shumach tribe!"

I re-watched an old episode of BTVS tonight. I know. I'm 30.  Someday I'll grow out of it. But I still watch reruns of My So Called Life too so...we can't all be winners all the time.

Anyway, it was that episode where Buffy's mom kicks the can and Willow doesn't wanna look like a king and Anya babbles about eggs and fruit punch.

It's a really good episode, actually. So good that, to this day, I still tear up when Dawn falls down in the hallway at her school. So good that, for one episode, I can almost ignore that bizarre "deer that popped its eyeballs out of its sockets" look that Sarah Michelle Gellar gets every time she has to do any kind of dramatic [read: crying] acting.

Love the girl...but she eye-acts more than Ian Somerhalder next door on Vampire Diaries. He's hot as fire, sure. But his eye acting channels Linda Blair.

This animated gif has nothing to do with her eye was just a really good episode...and a really good animated gif.

Ho ho ho baby Jesus!

Our office had a gift exchange today. I won a sweet-as Santa suit from Daiso Japan.  It was the equivalent of $5.13 and comes complete with a beard.

Shortly thereafter, my coworkers told me that, if I was my own hash tag, I'd be #SitOnElle'sLap&TellHerWhatYouWant.

I have every intention of wearing this out tomorrow night.

Hell. Yes.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Is that hummus?

Apparently I argued with a perfect stranger Friday night about the proper way to iron his shirt. It got so heated, in fact, that a friend later told me she's shocked he didn't bend me over his knee and give me a good "what for."  

I should probably watch the amount of wine I'm able to put back...apparently I'm not nearly as much of a pro at it as I think I am.

It shocks me what kind of shit comes out of my mouth sometimes. As a girl, I'm automatically handicapped with a certain level of ridiculousness.

Also, I fully admit that sometimes, I'm categorically insane (crackers, bonkers, daft, wacky, off the reservation, has the six pack but lacks the little plastic thingy that holds it all it whatever you want).

Oh but it gets worse...[episode 2]


Words cannot describe the want...
Of course...there is also all of this... [shit I want]

Angsty, melancholy, feminist musical plug.

Actually, it's not angsty or feminist at all. But my friend Shawn usually hates this do most boys.  I, however, think she. is. fantastic.  And it makes me miss playing the piano.  

Oh Seattle compact I despise you sometimes.

Oh and PS.  This isn't just one song.  If you click play and let it do it's thang it'll just keep on truckin' through the entire album.

You're welcome.