So I got a cellphone again. Two years off, and now I'm back.

I was debating keeping it on the down-low, not telling many people. I kind of like not being reachable sometimes. I like the freedom to choose not to answer my phone without people second-guessing me over it.

"I called you and you didn't answer -- why do you hate me?"

I hate that. I had friends who did that all the time when I last had a cellphone.

Strangely, I found that they didn't mind as much when they couldn't reach me after I had gotten rid of the cell. Somehow they were able to rationalize it away better if I didn't answer my home phone. They didn't have expectations that my home phone MUST be answered, but the expectations were there for the cell.

I think most of my friends these days won't have those sorts of issues. Hopefully not, because there will be times when my phone will be dead, when I will not hear it, when it will be off, or when I will simply choose not to answer.

It doesn't mean I don't like you.

It doesn't mean I bear you any ill will.

It really just means that I'm caught up in the moment, immersed in whatever I am doing, and have chosen not to let the flow be interrupted.

If you feel inclined to take it personally, please don't. I have antisocial inclinations these days, yo, but it's got nothing to do with you. I like you just the same and I'll get back to you as time allows.

That said, if I haven't given you my new digits yet and you'd like them, let me know.

If I died tomorrow, I would have no regrets.

I feel lately as if I'm really living. I'm not holding back; whatever I want, I go for it. All out. I feel good about where I am and what my priorities are; I think that's partially the source of my recent happiness.

Miles gave me an "I love Portland" coffee mug as a belated birthday present. How awesome is that?

As I was walking downtown to find Kevin, I happened upon this magical set of stairs heading up who knows where. A sign at the bottom of the steps informed me that the park closes at 11:00 PM. "Park"? Intrigued, I began my ascent.

At the top was a winding maze of cement walkways spanned out over several blocks, lined with trees and assorted greenery. Below me I could hear the distant rumble of I5, but that seemingly had nothing to do with this strange new world.

I wandered around for quite a while, and just as I was beginning to fear that I would never find another way down & would have to retrace all my steps, a second, downward staircase appeared before me. I descended and found myself on Union Street, solidly grounded in the hustle and bustle of downtown Seattle life once again.

I love being outside just before dusk, standing, facing the sun. My hair blows in front of my face, and instead of hair it appears as shimmers of gold and light because the sun shines through it just so. The birds are singing, and the air is still warm with just a hint of evening chill.

My dog sniffs about contentedly as I enjoy the smoky smell of BBQ drifting up from a nearby apartment patio. Mingling with the smoke is the smell of fresh paint from a recently painted curbside. The paint smell reminds me of afternoon craft sessions at my grandmother's house as a child, sitting outside at just this time of day painting together with acrylics.

I'm dropping my dog off now, and going to walk downtown for a farewell party for Kevin. Will be a pleasant walk; it's such nice weather for being outside. Afterwards I'll meet up with Michael to practice tango, and then grab what sleep I can before work tomorrow. I meant to hit a yoga class or two today as well, but there's just never enough time.

I've transcribed the entries from Portland -- here's a link if you don't want to scroll down on your own. My apologies for posting things out of order.

I spent the day playing the Spanish speaking CD's that accompany my textbook in the background while I worked. I'm planning on picking up the sounds and tonations of this language. I theorize that having well-spoken Spanish playing in the background throughout the day, even if I cannot understand it, will subliminally assist me in better picking up the language.

I'm also going to overdose in Spanish films for a while. Hooray for Netflix.

I swear, I will get accents and tones down! This will be the difficult part for me; reading, writing, vocabulary, and language structure come easily. My Latin background helps. I haven't taken a lot of French and Italian, but I've taken enough that they will help as well. None of that will help with Spanish sounds, though.

I will also roll my R's someday. Never yet in my life so far, but it will come, yeah? All I need is faith. And luck. And maybe a nice Spanish lover to teach me the ways and wiles of the language.

Brian wrote in an email to me just now:

-- Does it make a difference that my current happiness is grounded in
myself and is not tied to anybody else?

That is the only true happiness. Nobody else can make you happy. Linking
your happiness to others only leads to unhappiness, because it is nobody's
responsibility to make you happy or keep you happy. That's your job!
Other people come and go... so if your happiness is dependent on them, it
comes and goes too. But you're ALWAYS there with you, and so will your
happiness if it is based upon yourself.

I wonder if, the more that I become grounded in myself and happy within my own core, the more okay I will be with letting others go. In a previous post I mentioned that I am overly afraid of losing people. Could it be that this has been made worse because I have traditionally tied my happiness so strongly to the happiness of others?

In always putting others above myself, I am nothing when they move on. I am terrified for them to leave, to face this void. I have no core of my own to fall back upon. I didn't always have it, anyhow. Recently I have building one. I am becoming happier on my own, more true to myself.

Always with the core.

Interesting also that my emotional core is becoming stronger at the same time that I am building up my physical core. I wonder if that is more than coincidence.

Steve observed the other day that I often date or become involved with people I'm not really interested in. Although it is not a pretty thing, I see truth in this observation. I have been involved with a large number of people throughout my life, but I have only been strongly drawn or attracted to a small few.

I mentioned this to Chris Araman yesterday and it turns out he does the same thing.

Chris and I talked for a while of whys.

To some degree, I think I fall into this pattern because I date people who are interested in me.

It is flattering to have someone show interest in me. It makes me feel like a better person, somehow. Warm. Loved. Cared for. Deserving of love and affection. If someone cares for me, can I not find it in myself to care for them? Can their attraction not be enough? Why should it need to come from within me?

So I let myself get tangled up in relationships where the attraction does not come from within me.

For the short term, this isn't a terrible thing. I don't think. I don't know.

For the long term, it is not stellar. It is not fair to me or to the people I am involved with.

Or is it?

Sometimes I think that perhaps attraction could develop over time. With length and depth and time, my love could grow. It might never be the passionate stuff that Harlequin Romances are centered around, but it could still be a stable, lasting affection that would benefit both I and my partner. Arranged marriages often work out well for both people, possibly because of the attitudes and beliefs they take into the relationship. With the right attitudes and beliefs, I could be in a working long term relationship with any one of many people, regardless of level of attraction, of draw and pull.

This is all nice and good, but there's more to it.

As another motivating factor, I get lonely. I think that because there are so few people I am strongly attracted to, I settle in the meanwhile. I don't want to be alone. I want to be emotionally and physically intimate with others.

This is selfish of me, I know.

Somehow I still rationalize it to myself as being okay. I don't want to give this up. I want what I can have while I can have it, even if less than optimal, while I wait for whatever else may come along.

This is a terrible attitude, eh? I hate when my significant others act as if they feel this way, that they are settling for me while they wait for something else. But here I am thinking and feeling it.

I'm sure more to this, that there are subtleties and nuances I am unable to see or to explain. I don't really understand why I do what I do, and the picture I have painted thus far is far from complete.

I feel happy and content these days -- in many ways, I feel that I'm happier recently than I've ever been in my life -- but at the same time, I notice that I have a much shorter fuse than I used to. I'm far less tolerant of other people, much more protective of my own space.

Am I happier because I am more protective and am watching out more for myself?

Am I deceiving myself that I am happier?

Does it make a difference that my current happiness is grounded in myself and is not tied to anybody else? Does that make it stronger or more shallow? Or is it not that simple?

So many questions, so few answers.

I do feel a slight twinge of guilt when I put someone else off to make space for myself or to do what I feel is right for me, but it passes quickly. Several years ago, in the same situation, I would have tormented myself. Ultimately I would have turned around and done whatever I felt necessary to best please the other person, regardless of what I wanted or what might best please me.

This is not to say that I am indifferent to others or that my outlook has become entirely egocentric. There is a much stronger balance now, though, than there used to be. I now take myself into consideration. I have come to accept that I cannot make everyone happy, that I cannot "fix" people, and that I will only make myself miserable if I let doing so become my primary objective. I need to be true to myself and be good to myself when determining priorities, and I have started doing so with more frequency.

This means that I make others unhappy sometimes. I'm not sure I'm crazy about that. But generally, I feel good about where I am and the choices I am making. Life is good.

Chris and I had coffee at a shop near his place in Queen Anne. Such a beautiful afternoon, was so nice walking outside.

Following that, we went back to his place and played Dance Dance Revolution. I suck at DDR. I'll get better though. Under 60 boo's became my general goal, and for the most part, I was able to make that (at least on the easier levels). That's a pretty sucky goal though. I can do better. I swear. DDR party next week, and I plan to kick some ass.

After our video game session, we went out to the theater and saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Good flick. Charlie Kaufman rules. I hadn't seen a movie in the theater for quite a while, but this was a good pick for getting back into it. Even though I'm not normally a Jim Carrey fan, I loved it; he did an awesome job. Three thumbs up.

To top off the evening, we headed over to the Bada Lounge to see Kevin's final Bada gig before his European tour. Kevin is the bomb. I wish he weren't leaving for four months. Happy for Kevin, sad for Seattle.

Now I'm home and exhausted. Tomorrow morning the real world kicks in again, so I guess I should get some sleep. Cheerio.

Although I had an amazing time in Portland, I reached a point, near the end of dance on Saturday night, where I wanted to be anywhere but there. It's like there was a switch: switch is on, I'm having a great time, everything is dandy, there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be -- and then it clicks off and I just want to be home. It's not that anything went wrong, just that I was done.

That's maybe not such a big thing for some of you, but it's weird for me. I'm the sort who closes things out. I'm afraid I'll miss something if I leave early so I stay until the very end, leaving in the last wave. I don't leave early. It's not something I do.

It's not something I used to do, anyhow. I guess I'm changing.

So I still spent the night in Portland, despite the draw to leave. Woke up and the home instinct was still going strong, so I caught a ride with a group of people leaving much earlier than I had originally planned to. Now I'm home, clean, fed, and feeling pretty good. As far as I know, the group of people I had planned to come back with is still in Portland, possibly dancing their hearts away at one of the Sunday practicas. I'm sure they're having fun.

I'm going to head over to Uncle Jon's in a bit to practice tango with him. I'm jazzed about that. We've been talking about practicing for a while, but today will be the first day of actually doing. He's fun, talented, quite artistic; I'm looking forward.

Then after that I'll spend some time with gay Chris. First time in a long time. I'm looking forward to that too.

Then I might even come home and veg for a while. Bond with myself. I almost never make time for that, but right now I'm having a hankering. It's almost like I'm someone else. Or turning into someone else. I guess that's the nature of growth and change.

I don't remember a time in my life where I've been happier than this weekend. Surrounded by people that I'm growing to love, sharing experiences that I will treasure for a long while to come.

This morning -- sunshine, companionship. We went to eat breakfast at a cafe that turned out to be quite crowded, so the 10 of us went down the street to a creperie instead. Enveloped by sun, warmth, good feeling, all the walk over.

At the creperie, fresh coffee, cold water, all of us pulled around a few tables in the center of the room. Happy and cozy. As our orders came trickling in, we all shared one another's food. Pleasant camaraderie. I love sharing -- somehow, other people sharing with me or allowing me to share with them makes me feel so connected to them.

Then, this afternoon, 15 of us drove down to the coast. We walked barefoot in the sand, danced with the sea, the sun, the wind in our hair. Pulling sand beneath our feet and between our toes, our music accompanied by the sound of the waves lapping on the shore. I portaged little Lindsay and Lyera over a knee deep water crossing when they didn't want to get wet and cold. I enjoyed helping them, getting my feet wet, really using my body. Being a part of the land around me. Being connected with the people near me.

Everyone else got cold, but without shoes or socks, wearing only a light pair of pants and a tank top, I felt no chill. How could I, with such warmth of happiness radiating from my core?

I have not spent much time in my life near the ocean. Today surpassed all expectations.

I think someday I'd like to live in a little bungalow by the sea. I feel so grounded, so alive when I stand out in the wind, the air heavy with salt water, the sand beneath my feet, the surf pounding the shore. Such grandness. Such reason for living. Words don't do the feeling justice.

I rode down to Portland with Lyera and Greg. Lyera's stereo is broken -- well, not so much broken as currently & for all the foreseeable future, non-functional. It's the kind with a removable face. One time, in Vancouver, Lyera put the face in the trunk in an attempt to thwart thievery. Unfortunately, thieves broke a window and pulled it out anyway, so now the stereo is unusable for both she and for them. The thieves also stole her favorite Piazzolla CD's and a Mickey Mouse a friend had given her. Bastards. Greg thinks that maybe the Mickey Mouse is happier now, off doing heroine and stealing things and really seeing the world.

So, anyhow, since there is no stereo, Greg read out loud from the book Underworld: A Novel for all the trip. How awesome is that? I used to practically beg friends and boyfriends to read out loud to me, and here Greg does it for us as a matter of course. Super-sweet.

Alex Phelps was going to visit this weekend, but he is no longer able to do so due to hellish work stuff. They're going to reimburse his plane ticket and he'll visit a few weeks from now, but that threw this weekend into flux.

I've decided instead to head down to Portland with a few other Seattle folk. I'm a traveling fiend. Tonight, Gypsy Dance Night with the Vagabond Opera! Tomorrow night, Milonga Berretin. And then there are all the Portland folk I'll get to hang out with; should be good times!

"Build a man a fire, and he'll be warm for a day. Set a man on fire, and he'll be warm for the rest of his life."
- Terry Pratchett.

Jaimes says I have a hard time letting people go, that I am afraid of losing people. I mean, most people have that to some extent, but he says it's particularly pronounced in me.

I can see truth in that. I wonder where it comes from, though.

On a different note, in a conversation with Wayne yesterday morning I realized that I don't trust people to stick around for the long term. I perceive friendships and close relationships to be much more transient than I once did, and expect that they will all deteriorate, given time. Regardless of how much I care for the other person and regardless of how much I treasure the relationship, I do not have faith that it will last.

So why do I have such a hard time letting go, if I expect that every friendship will eventually require just that of me? Am I trying to postpone the inevitable? Is one observation or the other not entirely true? Is there some level of subtlety I am missing? I don't know. If both observations aptly describe me, I don't understand how they fit together.

. . .

You really had me going
wishing on a star
But the black holes that surround you
are heavier by far

I believed in your confusion
you were so completely torn
Well it must have been that yesterday
was the day that I was born

. . .

I've come to find
I may never know
your changing mind
Is it friend or foe?
I rise above
or sink below
With every time
you come and go
Please don't
come and go

'Cause I am barely breathing
And I can't find the air
I don't know who I'm kidding
imagining you care
And I could stand here waiting
a fool for another day
I don't suppose it's worth the price, worth the price
The price that I would pay

But I'm thinking it over anyway
I'm thinking it over anyway

From Barely Breathing by Duncan Sheik

I am so irrational. I knowingly let myself be used by somebody, but then later I get upset because I feel used. How dumb is that?

Two squarish layers of clouds sat right over the horizon on the east side of Lake Washington this morning, resembling a large king-sized mattress and box spring. The line of mountains and trees lining the horizon looked like the shadowy area underneath the bed, and the water resembled a freshly swept tile floor. Above the two squarish clouds was a single fluffy mass of cloud, bringing to mind a down comforter all crumpled up from someone having just rolled out of bed.

Such a picture -- the bed of some celestial being, left in disarray when he ran off to start the day. Made me smile.

Lyrics to tango music are generally in Spanish.

In DC, I danced with one guy who translated the lyrics to the music for me as we danced. I loved it!

So now, I want to know what the songs are saying as I am dancing them. I don't need that to dance, but it adds atmosphere, helps to enhance the story of my dance, perhaps. Adds subtle feeling, and dance is so much about feeling. At least dance that I am drawn to.

With that in mind, I decided that I want to learn Spanish. (Well, also with the thought of visiting Argentina in mind. It won't happen for quite a while, but I plan on making it some day and I might as well start preparing early.)

I was going to just hit some books and see then hopefully work out a deal with a Spanish speaker on TimeBucks as a supplemental deal. With all that on my mind, I asked Alex if there were any books he might recommend. He said he had heard great things about the ones used by the state department, and they were available at the U Bookstore. He also pointed me to the Seattle Language Academy.

The Seattle Language Academy! Woah! With a new term of classes starting today! How awesome is that?

I called Alex up and asked him, "Would you like to learn Spanish with me?"

Amazingly, he agreed.

And we signed up for a class that started within the hour. So twice weekly, on my lunch breaks from now until June, I will be heading to Spanish class. The class today was pretty awesome, once we got there (we got lost on the way). I adore our instructor.

Super crazy, all of that. I never thought I would learn Spanish. As a kid, I had some wierd prejudice against Spanish, Mexico, and anything having to do with Spanish or Mexican culture. In Junior High, when all kids in the school got to take one semester of Spanish and one semester of either French or German, I threw a fit and made them let me skip Spanish, taking French and German, instead.

And now here I am, suddenly in a Spanish class, and with Alex taking it with me, to boot. I'm excited. It's been far too long since I've taken classes. I'm even excited about homework.

My officemate and I were talking today about public opinion and how malleable it is. I complained that too many people don't think for themselves. Why, when they watch or read a slanted newscast, can they not think to themselves, "There are some valid points here, but the newscaster seems to have an agenda. I should look more into the issue outside of this one newscast."? I mentioned that I subscribe to both the MoveOn.Org mailing list and to the DFL mailing list, and while I think they bring up many interesting issues, I am aware that they both have agendas and that their bulletins will be slanted as a result of those agendas.

That got me thinking; am I all talk? If I really separate the issues from the agendas, why are the only lists I subscribe to pursuing similar agendas? Why am I not reading bulletins written by organizations with alternate agendas and giving thought to the issues that those organizations bring up, as well?

With that in mind, I went and signed up for the RNC mailing list. Should be interesting.

Here I am in sunny San Francisco:



Here are most of the Portland peeps that made the trip, minus Wayne who took all the pictures:

Chinese hot mustard makes me happy.

"There is no art when one does something without intention."
- Duke Ellington

Oak Hammock, a retirement community that opened this month in Gainesville, Florida, is affiliated with the University of Florida and offers residents campus privileges similar to those of faculty members. They can use amenities and sit in on classes to their heart's content. Man, when I retire, I want to live in a community like that.

Silliness:

According to OkCupid.Com, I am The Peach.

Random Gentle Love Master (RGLMf)

Playful, kind, and well-loved, you are The Peach.

For such a warm-hearted, generous person, you're surprisingly experienced in both love and sex. We credit your spontaneous side; you tend to live in the moment, and you don't get bogged down by inhibitions like most women your age. If you see something wonderful, you confidently embrace it.

You are a fun flirt and an instant sweetheart, but our guess is you're becoming more selective about long-term love. It's getting tougher for you to become permanently attached; and a guy who's in a different place emotionally might misunderstand your early enthusiasm. You can wreck someone simply by enjoying him.

Your ideal mate is adventurous and giving, like you. But not overly intense.

What do they have to say about you?

I finally transcribed everything I wrote in DC. Bloggerific. Here's a link to the first post of the bunch if you don't feel like scrolling down to find it on your own.

The San Francisco area confounds me.

The drive into Marin is surrounded by large, rolling hills, soft and smooth like a woman's belly. Here and there are clumps of soft bushy trees, perfectly placed. The land is warm, enveloping. I want to be pulled into it.

Then, over a single hill, change. Everywhere, sprawl. We are surrounded by corners, cement, gray. Buildings and signs. The green of the grass and the hills is less vibrant, and even the trees seem droopier. So much of the area is like that. Spots here and there that are immensely beautiful, but then just around the next corner or over the next rise is congested traffic, buildings everywhere, a wasteland of cement and asphalt. I was torn -- on the one hand, I want to think it renders the natural beauty of the area more shallow. It only stretches so far before you see what is beneath, what surrounds. But on the other hand, the contrast makes it seem somehow more precious, as well.

The sun was out this weekend while we were down. We spent some time on the beach. Sat out in the sunlight watching the water. Walked barefoot in the sand, feeling sand between my toes, the bay water gently kissing my feet. Meditated. Let the sunlight, the water, the air penetrate my mind, my psyche. The experience was regenerative. Sitting out on the beach, surrounded by friends but silent, each of us caught up in our own thoughts, I felt more at one with myself.

The locals say that San Francisco is not always so warm and sunny, and that we should not think of this weekend as representative of San Francisco in general. It's difficult not to, though, as that's all I've seen. I felt it calling to me. I'd like to spend more time there sometime, get to know the area better.

Have you ever been outside and everything is so beautiful to look at it almost hurts? The sky is a brilliant shade of cerulean blue, lined with a soft layer of misty white clouds. Over to the left is a clump of bushes, a loud but attractive yellow-green. The rust on a bridge overhead shines brilliantly in the sunlight. A semi passing by causes my breath to catch, because it is just the right shade of orange. Everywhere, color and sunlight. Warm colors, brilliant colors, off-setting each other, meshing into a diverse but cohesive landscape; a balm for my eyes, my senses, my soul.

That's how I've felt recently, when I'm outdoors and I take the time to look around.

I've decided that I am not going to cut my hair short again until it's long enough to donate the trimmings to Locks of Love. My mother donated 22 inches just a week or so ago! How awesome is that?

Happy belated birthday to me. One year older. One year wiser?

When I was a kid and people would tickle me, even though my feet weren't that ticklish I'd pretend they were so the instigator wouldn't stop tickling them right away. I liked being touched, especially on my feet.

Alex found that endearing; thought I should use it to start my autobiography, should I ever write one. Since I'm not sure I'm ever going to head in that direction, I've stuck it here instead.

To anyone who actually reads all that I write and has felt gypped at the recent lack of material, do not fear -- I wrote oodles of entries this last weekend and have only to transcribe them. Expect to see them appear within the next few days, whenever I am able to scrounge up a bit of free time.

I wrote this in an email to a friend and she liked it, so I'm pasting it up here:

I don't know that I'll keep favoring tango -- I'll probably swing back and forth every now and again, focusing more on one than the other. I still do love lindy -- it's just, you know, one is like the moon, one the sun, and sometimes the days will be shorter and sometimes longer, but there will always be both night and day.

I wish someone would give me a plane and a pilot's licence for my birthday. So unlikely, but would make everything so much easier. Or if someone built a bullet train from here to Portland to San Francisco. I mean, they have them in Japan! Why not here?

Maybe I'll just buy myself a few powerball tickets instead, win the lotto so I can buy my own damn plane. Wish me luck!

My second plane was delayed by two hours today. To pass the time, I sat down near my gate, in a patch of sunshine, with my sketchbook.

Note -- it is difficult to discreetly draw the people around you when you attract a crowd of noisy children.

The kids barraged me with questions and incessant chatter. Who is that? Can you draw that person? Are you an artist? Can you draw my shoe? Do they keep your pictures in museums? Your pictures should be in museums.

I drew their shoes, and somehow they were endlessly amused. Then they asked me to draw the picture off of a RPG card one kid had with him, and I did.

"Can he keep it?" one asked.

"You have to give her something!" another responded. "She won't give it to you unless you give her something."

"I...uh...will. I'll give her the card," the kid said resignedly, fully prepared to make this great sacrifice.

"You will?!" asked the first.

"Hey, I wanted it!"

"I have two," said the kid.

"You're giving it to her?!"

"I mean," he said hopefully, "only if she wants it."

They all looked expectantly at me, as I continued sketching.

"Do you want it?"

I politely declined and the kid sighed with relief.

When our plane finally started boarding, I gave the kids all the pictures I had drawn of their things, and they hopped around in jubilation. You would have thought it Christmas and I Santa, to see them so.

The sketches were actually pretty good. I missed them a little bit when giving them away -- silly of me. There will be more sketches.

I made a new friend in DC. I have not known Mark for long, but already I consider him to be a kindred spirit. We approach things in similar ways. He and I are both drawn to dance for the as a means of connecting with people. For three minutes of song, you can be one with someone else. There is nothing but you, they, and the music, the two of you united through music, movement, touch, the experience.

For much the same reason, Mark and I were both members of gospel choirs in college. To sing in unison, your voice finding a place amongst the multitude of voices singing with so much feeling -- thrilling.

We each enjoyed Homer & Christina's performance because of the way they looked at each other, the way he cared for her, the depth of feeling evident in their every interaction.

I have never put as much time into guitar as I would like. This is not because I lack energy or desire, but because the learning is a solitary pastime and I am drawn away to more social endeavors that offer a promise of connection with others. Mark has found the same when he has studied instruments.

It turns out, at least according to Meyers-Briggs, that we have almost identical personality types. Makes me wonder what the personality types of my other close friends are, and also causes me to wonder if I could see eye to eye this easily with others who share my type.

I saw acres of land covered in snow from the airplane today. It made me happy.

Steve and Miles think it would be a terrible idea for me to move away and live in seclusion for any period of time. Miles could not believe the post was serious -- he kept waiting for the punch line. They say it is not for me, because I am, by nature, a social person.

I think this is true, but it is actually part of what draws me to the idea. Being alone would be difficult for me, no doubt. It would be painful. But back to the idea of struggle and failure as impetus for growth and change -- I believe a self-imposed hermitage would be a defining experience for me as a person.

I hold no illusions about the experience being pleasant -- this would not be meant as a vacation. Rather, it would be a road into myself. As Hermann Hesse wrote in Demian:

I wanted only to try to live in accord with the promptings which came from my true self. Why was that so difficult?

It would be difficult, certainly, but this says nothing of worthiness.

As a slight tangent, throughout my life I have been consistently more artistic during my down phases, whenever I was depressed, frustrated, facing conflict or dealing with failure. I was more musical, more adept with paints or clay, more inspired. When I am happy and time flies by in a haze of sunlight and good feeling, I become blocked. The artist within slumbers for a time. I believe that some time on my own, a period of abstinence from social contact, a forced struggle to be alone with myself -- this all would help me to find myself as an artist. It would serve to wake my inner self.

Happiness is shallow. Ultimately, I believe I would feel more fulfilled if I more fully reached my artistic potential. There is a deeper satisfaction in that, making any pain along the way worth bearing.

I like nice people. Warm, genuine. In dancers, I think it really shows through in their dancing, setting them ahead of other technically proficient individuals who are all about self. Homer & Christina, Christopher & Caroline, Alex & Luciana - all amazingly kind and personable. It was a treat, watching and being around them this weekend.

It's amazing how everything works out sometimes, despite any and all opposing circumstances.

...so after the jam cleared up & traffic started moving again, I rushed the car to the rental car return. They were extraordinarily nice (in contrast to when I picked the car up -- the lady who worked with me then was quite curt) and didn't charge me anything extra, despite my not having stopped to fill the tank within 10 miles of the return as required by the rental agreement.

I dashed to the airport shuttle (as much as dashing applies, given the mass of papers and maps and suitcases I was lugging with me) and packed all the miscellaneous items I had grabbed from the car into my luggage as we headed toward the airport. Once there, after I oriented myself, I hustled to the NWA ticket counter. It was 11:20 and my flight was due to take off at 11:35, so I fully expected to be turned away.

Happiness! They officially booked me as standby for the next flight, but gave me a ticket to get through security quickly and told me that I could possibly still make my flight if I booked it to the gate & took everything as carry on.

While I was moving through security, they gave a final boarding call for my flight. I was afraid security would decide to search my bags, especially since one held some new tango shoes which have long, spiky metal heels, but providence was with me and they let me through. I rushed to the gate, out of breath, and asked if they would still let me board. Eying my load critically, the stewardess said that my bag wouldn't fit in the bins with as much as I had packed into it, but if I could slim it down they'd let me on. Otherwise, I would have to go back out and check my main bag, and that would mean waiting until the next flight.

I opened the front pocket of my suitcase and removed a mass of papers, maps, and books, cramming them into a plastic bag I carried, alongside the granola, nuts, and mango it already contained. Satisfied, they let me board.

On the plane everyone was already seated and the bins were closed, but the lovely man sitting in the seat next to mine helped me to find a bin that would hold my suitcase and another with space enough for my backpack. As I sat down and leaned over to put my purse and the plastic bag under the seat in front of mine the bag broke. Feeling frazzled, I gathered everything up. Luckily, I was able to squeeze all but one book into another smaller plastic bag I had been carrying with me. (Thank goodness I hoard plastic bags these days, collecting them with future dog walks & cleanup in mind.)

So now here I am, on my scheduled flight, en route to Minneapolis and then Seattle as planned. (I am, of course, actually transcribing the post to this page a week later. The time stamp is approximate to when I first penned it.) What an adventure the morning was, and pleasant that it all worked out so well. It's as if I were living a charmed existance! I have so many days where everything goes wrong that it feels almost surreal when I have one like this, where everything goes right.

Mark remarked this morning that it is not success that causes you to mature, but failure. Looking back on my own life, I do feel that it is my struggles and failures that have defined who I am today. As he put it, when you are happy, you spend all your time being happy and don't stop to think or reflect. There is nothing to stimulate change or growth, as you are content with the status quo.

Life is so much nicer when I decide not to let myself stress about things. Today on my way to the airport, I got stuck in traffic. Dead stand still on the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. I was so close to the airport, yet so far away. 15 miles away with easily 40 minutes before I needed to think about checking in, but irrelevant because we weren't moving. 15 miles away with 30 minutes left. 13 with 20. 12 with 10. 11 miles left and I should have been checking in.

I won't lie -- I felt a compulsion to let myself be overcome with stress. What if I missed my flight? Would they charge a fee to change my ticket? Could I afford it? What about my ride from the Seattle airport? Etc, etc.

I made a conscious choice to let it all go. Breathed deeply. Rolled the windows down, turned the music up. Channeled a message to my core that whatever happened, it would be alright. I "gave it up to God" as my family would say, or left it to fate, if you prefer a less secular line of thought. And with that simple message I was able to feel good, to appreciate the sunshine, the music, the nippy breeze blowing through the car and chilling my cheeks, contrasted by a gentle flow of warmth from the car ventilation system. I must have looked funny from the outside, dancing in my seat and having a time.

"Before I learned to tango, I did a lot of lindy hop," I told someone I had newly met as we were dancing tonight.

"Well, that makes a lot of sense," he replied, "because swing girls always dance with a lot of feeling."

With a lot of feeling! He implied that I dance with feeling! That made me really happy. What I want most in my dancing is feeling, is soul, and it's nice to know that maybe I'm on the right track.

I think it is about time to wander away from this wi-fi station.

For those of you who don't already know, I'm out of town all weekend. I'll be back Monday and odds are you won't see anything from me again until that time.

When I fly, I am greatful for my talent of being able to sleep anywhere, any time, under any circumstances. I board the plane, sit down, fall asleep, and next thing I know the plane is landing. Nice, nice, very nice.

Minnesota air feels so much better to me. I love walking up the ramp from the plane to the terminal and breathing in the air that leaks in from outside; I breathe it so much more easily. It just feels good. I'm not sure if it's the temperature, the climate, or what. Makes me wonder if it will always be like this. Will my affinity for MN air change eventually, given enough time away from this climate? If so, how much time would such a change take? I haven't been back to MN more than once or twice a year since I've lived in Washington state -- almost 5 years now.

On a downside, MN buildings tend to be far too heavily climate controlled. The air in this airport is overly dry and warm and ... recycled. Or something. Not nearly so pleasant.

I spaced out this morning and missed my connecting flight to DC. Wasn't even sleeping -- was just writing a letter, and had apparently become completely immersed in my own little world.

Happily, NWA is bumping me to the next flight, so the worst of it all is that I get to spend a few extra hours here in the Minneapolis airport. Ah, but fate toys with me so! Had I known I'd be laid over for a while, I would have attempted to get in contact with some of my old Minneapolis buddies. I miss this city.

Free wi-fi demo stations are awesome. So nice to be able to while away a bit of my layover time here on the net.

Occasionally friends and acquaintances have asked me why I blog. Some have said that it seems strange to them that I live my life as such an open book. Others have said that they feel almost uncomfortable reading my journal, as if they're invading my privacy.

Here are my thoughts on why I continue to blog the way that I do:

This journal is a social experiment of sorts that I am applying to myself. I don't want to live a life hidden. I don't want to think or do things that I am uncomfortable owning up to. If I make a point to publicly own up to everything and I find that I squirm at anything I might feel inclined to write, it causes me to think and converse with myself in ways I would not otherwise. Why do I find the topic uncomfortable? Am I unhappy with how I act, with the choices I make? Am I succumbing to deeply rooted prejudices or childhood beliefs that I might do better to let go of altogether? Am I overly dependent upon or concerned with the approval of friends, acquaintances, family, peers, or strangers? And if I am concerned, should I be?

I have made a habit, over the years, of living without thinking. I do. I go. I keep busy. I build routines and I adhere strictly to them. I develop deeply ingrained behavioral patterns, traversing them day in and day out without a second thought.

At some point along the way I was given a moment of clarity in which I realized I do these things.

This journal and the questions it cause me to ask myself represent an ongoing attempt to break out of these patterns. As far as I know I am given only one life to live, and it is slipping by at breakneck speed. When all is said and done, when I reach the finish line and look back over my life, I would rather have lived it with open eyes, with an awareness, than look back to find that I blindly stumbled on year after year. Even now, I regret great expanses of time in recent years which passed without any introspection, without conversing with myself, being aware of who I was and really being with myself.

That said, there is a great deal going on in my life right now of which I do not write. I have forged new relationships, let old relationships go. I have made new resolutions and am experimenting with approaching things in new ways.

I would like to write of these things, but for a number of reasons, I do not feel that this is currently the most appropriate forum. I am flirting with the idea of expressing myself and inducing introspection through other mediums; perhaps I will try my hand at writing a book, perhaps I will keep writing in offline journals, perhaps I will continue to simply correspond and discuss with friends on an individual basis, or perhaps I will do some combination of all these things. And I will blog what I am comfortable with. If you're comfortable reading it, wonderful! Be my guest. And feel free to ask questions and to challenge me about what I write; I love when people approach me and start up discussions or correspondence based upon something I have written.

Read an article in the nytimes today about freecycle.org, an online community devoted to helping people find new homes for old things, transforming one person's trash into another's treasure. It sounded pretty cool. It struck me as especially interesting that Portland seems to have the biggest freecycle community right now, by several orders of magnitude. Go Portland!

I'm working on cleaning my place up these days. Maybe I'll see what I can freecycle along the way.

Apparently I can blame all my disastrous relationships on my sun sign and just be glad I did not marry into any of them: "In your personal relationships Arians are frank, direct and candid, and make enthusiastic and generous friends. You are liable to have a high sex drive and make passionate but fastidious lovers. . .The intensity of your sexual urges can drive you to promiscuity and a Don Juan-like counting of conquests of the opposite sex. It can also trick you into early unwise marriage which may end disastrously."

It's actually a little disconcerting how strongly I relate to much of what the site pegs as "Aries" behavior. I mean, it's all pretty generic, but the traits they emphasize, both positive and negative, are some of the strongest traits I see influencing my own life right now. A fondness for extremes, a penchant for pushing the bounds of social acceptability, a need to take control, and a problem with taking directions for which I can see no reason or with which I disagree. A strong need for freedom to act, a wanting for straightforwardness, and a need to avoid negative emotions such as regret and self-pity. Even the physical ailments hit right on the head. I don't buy much into astrology, but it's interesting to ponder.

I realized this last weekend that there's this thing I do with relationships. Not a good thing.

When the other person does something that truly hurts me, generally I will confront them about it. If they are not receptive when I first talk to them about it, though, I will eat it up. I try to move on, forget about it, deal with it. I'll act forgiving, laid back, cool with things, and I'll think that everything is okay. I won't bring up the issue again.

But it's like a poison. As much as I think I'm over it, I'll change the way I act in tiny, minute ways. I'll do little things, destructive things that eat away at the relationship. Termites eating away at the foundation, down where nobody can see. I'll not put into the relationship in the same way that I did before, and will allow myself to do things the other person might find to be hurtful. It's not that I'll be noticeably destructive or that I'll act out towards them -- it's just that, having lost some little bit of trust or faith in them, I'll be more guarded of myself. A tiny bit more about-self and less about-them. And for a relationship to really work, I think it has to be strongly about-them in addition to about-self. The worst part is that I won't even realize I'm doing that. I will honestly believe that everything is fine.

The Denver Lindy Exchange last year was just this sort of turning point in my relationship with Mike, I think. It took half a year from that time for things to really start dying off and falling apart, but that's when things really changed for me. It didn't seem huge at the time but I don't think there was any going back from that point on.

Looking back now, I can see points like that in other relationships, too. With Louis, it was when I found out that he'd cheated on me a second time with his ex-girlfriend. Again, it took months and months after that for things to finally implode, but that was when something in me turned off, when things changed somehow. With Jon, I think it might have been the argument in Montreal about bus tickets. With Jeremy, maybe it was Ashley? I'm not as sure about Jeremy -- it might not apply there.

I hope that since I see the pattern now, I'll be able to break out of it in the future.

You know those silly email surveys that people send all about? The "I'll answer a million generic questions so you can get to know me" sort of surveys? I am not a huge fan and I almost never do them. Only I did one today, as part of an email exchange with someone I'm trying to get to know better, and because I haven't been blogging much lately I've decided to post it here. It's something, anyhow.

• Full Name: Kathryn Anisette Krueger (My parents thought they made the middle name up - "Ann" combined with a French suffix meaning little, so "Little Ann" - but it turns out to also be the name of a black liquorice-flavored liquor.)


• Where Were You Born?: Rochester, MN


• Siblings:
  • Leroy. 23, living in Duluth, MN. Is in the Army Reserves and was shipped off to Iraq for a year, got back this Christmas. Just proposed to his girlfriend and will be getting married sometime this coming winter.
  • Mary. 20, living here in Seattle. Attends the Art Institute of Seattle and is studying in their Culinary program.
  • Susan. 18, still at home with the folks attending her senior year of high school. Heading off to Spain for the summer and then going to attend college somewhere in the Midwest.
  
  
• Favorite TV Show: West Wing and/or Law and Order (just the original, not the spin-offs), although I haven't watched either in years.


• What Is On Your Mouse Pad?: I use laser mice so I don't need a mouse pad. Developed a bit of carpal tunnel in the last few years, which makes mice with balls impractical and ultimately painful.


• Favorite Board Game: I prefer cards. Canasta and Spades turn me on.


• Favorite Magazine: Dell Logic Puzzles


• Favorite Smells: Outdoors just after a rainstorm or a heavy snowfall. Freshly brewed coffee. Smoke from campfires.


• Favorite Soundtrack: Brokedown Palace


• What Do You Think About Ouija Boards?: I don't use them.


• What Is The First Thing You Think Of When You Awake In The Morning?: Ugh! I hate mornings! Make it stop! Make my life not suck so much! Why...do...I...have...to...get...up?! I hate my life. I hate having a job. I just want to sleep.


• Do You Get Motion Sickness?: Yes. Especially when I'm already under the weather with something else.


• Roller Coasters-Scary Or Exciting?: I wish I could be one of the people who samples and rides and judges roller coasters for a living. Ride them all day, every day...


• Pen Or Pencil?: Pen for writing, pencil for sketching.


• How Many Rings Before You Answer The Phone?: Depends on who is calling, what my mood is, and what else I am doing. Sometimes I just won't answer at all.


• Favorite Foods: Sushi. Steak, medium rare on the rare side. Steamed bananas in coconut milk. Thai curries.


• Chocolate Or Vanilla?: Coffee.


• Favorite Ice Cream: Coffee. Peppermint Bon Bon.


• Do You Like To Drive?: In Minnesota? - yes. In Seattle? - generally, no. I hate traffic. I like long open roads, the windows down, the wind whipping through the car as I navigate the roads. Seattle traffic is too crappy to allow much of that.


• Do You Sleep With Stuffed Animals?: Sometimes.


• Storms-Cool Or Scary?: I love a good storm. I really miss extreme electrical storms -- we never get those in Seattle.


• Favorite Poet: Still working on figuring that out.


• If You Could Meet One Person Dead Or Alive, Who Would It Be?: Not sure.


• Favorite Alcoholic Drink: A good merlot, or maybe a nice warm sake.


• Do You Eat The Stems of Broccoli?: Yes.


• Would You Ever Ask A Guy For His Shirt?: Umm...


• If You Could Have Any Job You Wanted, What Would It Be?: I'd teach tango part time, work with kids part time, and maybe do massage therapy for a small set of recurring customers.


• If You Could Dye Your Hair Any Color, What Would It Be?: I've dyed it red, I've dyed it black, but right now I'm happy with brown.


• Have You Ever Been In Love?: Yes.


• What Is On The Walls Of Your Room?: I'm working on finding some nice tapestries... they're pretty bare-bones right now.


• Are You A Lefty, Righty, or Ambidextrous?: Although I used to take my handwriting assignments home as a child and repeat them using my left hand so that I could switch when desired, I was never able to use my left as well or as freely as my right. Still a righty.


• Do You Type With Your Fingers On The Right Keys?: Generally, yes.


• What's Under Your Bed?: A folded up dog-kennel. Louie hopes it stays there forever; he doesn't want to see it ever again.


• What's Your Favorite Number?: 13.


• What's Your Favorite Color?: Green for wearing. Olive greens in particular, or any green with more yellow tinge than blue. Yellows and reds and blues for surrounding myself with. Or orange sometimes. A number of colors, in fact. I love colors, especially bright vibrant colors overlaid on nice textures.


• Favorite Sport To Watch?: I love playing Ultimate Frisbee, but am not so into watching any sport. Unless you count ice skating competitions or dance competitions, which I could watch all the day long.


• Did You Enjoy This Survey?: Depends how you define "enjoy".

Scientists have discovered a new planet within our solar system! Sedna. Pretty exciting. But is it a 'planet' or a 'planetoid'? My officemate think it's silly that they're naming it after an Inuit goddess -- too politically correct. Should be named after a greek god or goddess. "Which one of these things doesn't belong?" He has a point.

The NASA site has pictures. Pretty.

Although I may feel like one at times, I'm glad I'm not an earthworm living on an athletic field.

Portland people make me happy.

I wish that I could kiss your lips the way I want to, baby
I wish that I could be your man
I wish that you could be my lady

I took a tally yesterday morning on my bus:

39 males
5 females (including both the bus driver and myself)

Do you think that says something about bus commuting, about [the company many of us are busing to], or both?

This morning at work, within the span of a single hour, I:

1. spilled tea all over my lap
2. ripped my pants while squatting down to sort out some wires (good thing I did the skirt over the pants thing today -- I ended up wearing just the skirt)
3. spilled water all over my keyboard

So very me.

I was in an incredibly good mood before that all happened, and, as my officemate pointed out, my mood stayed sunny throughout all the calamity. If I am clumsy and sometimes lacking in grace, at least I handle it all aptly, right?

I feel much better this morning! Funny how that works; things always look better in the morning light. "Tomorrow" is a new day and all that.

I feel very constricted lately. I hate that I can't write about anything or talk about anything or say too much, whether it's because certain people don't want the sort of relationships they have with me disclosed in any way, or whether it's because people from work might read what I write and hold it against me somehow. I miss having an outlet for my thoughts, a public venue in which to sort out my reactions. I need to finish up my secure-content journal, I guess.

I mean, I have been writing in my physical offline journals, but it's just not the same thing, you know? Maybe you don't. I dunno. Nobody else I know seems to blog the way I'd like to, given a perfect world and no constraints.

Tonight has not been the best of nights. To start off, there were some really bad vibes at the Russian Center. Chris and Maren were at each other's throats and it really got to me. Not cool. I finally had to just leave -- I didn't even stay for the second class, as I couldn't stand to be in that atmosphere anymore.

I was going to just head up the hill to sit in a coffee shop and read, but Alex was amiable to watching some tango so we did that instead. And it was okay for a while.

Then someone showed up and, upon seeing them, I discovered that I hold a lot of anger toward them right now. Up until now I hadn't been able to be angry -- it's like I liked them too much, or I was afraid, or I didn't feel like I had any right -- but tonight it just consumed me.

Oddly enough, it affected some of my dancing in a positive way. I was able to channel the energy somehow.

Then the dance was over. Walked back to the RC -- I actually enjoyed the walk, being by myself out in the dark -- picked up my car (which I had left there for Steve to borrow), and drove home. Now here I am. Still in a foul mood.

(Yes, I went to Portland last night. Lyera, Mija, and I all drove down for the practica at Nocturnal. It was awesome! And by awesome, I mean super-awesome. Except for the three hours down and three hours back part, which was slightly less than optimal.)

Last night in Portland some guy hung out the window of his car, flipped us off, screamed obscenities, and punctuated the scene by screaming, "WHY DON'T YOU GO HOME!?"

Perhaps he didn't like the Minnesota plates? That was our best guess.

God hates shrimp.

I drove through the Arboretum on my way to work this morning. As I was waiting to get onto the highway, I saw a woman out in the rain playing with her dogs. It was quite picturesque; the dogs running, the woman standing tall and attentive in the rain.

Somehow, it got me to thinking about my life. About what it is now, about what I'd like it to be.

These days, I am disconnected from the earth around me.

Don't get me wrong; I enjoy the people I surround myself with and the full and busy lifestyle that I have developed. I enjoy being hooked into society. But throughout my life, whenever I have stopped and allowed myself to hear it, there has been something else which has called softly to me. Some disjointed song about rain and wind and hills, an abstraction of sky and stars and open spaces.

I am scared of being alone with myself, away from people. Despite that fear, the thought of becoming fully my own person, of extracting myself from all the ties of society, well - it holds some mystical allure. There is a bit of a hermit in me.

So, as I watched the dogs running about, I thought of the remote places that I know; northern Minnesota, North Dakota. I thought about remote places I've heard of but never seen. Montana. Alaska. Alaska, in particular, caught my fancy.

I entertained thoughts of moving out to some backwoods plot, purchasing a small plot of land and building a cottage near a lake shore or a river bed, close enough to some small town that I wouldn't be cut off from necessary supplies but generally removed from all of society. Keeping a garden. Spending a large portion of time outdoors. Living simply and frugally, communing with the earth around me. None of these fancies included another person. Just my dog, my birds, myself. Perhaps another dog.

Were I ever to make such a move, I'm not sure how I would support myself. I'd like to do something on my own, some work that I could do on my own time, in my own space. Perhaps I'd paint. Or I could even write. I've never been overly happy with my writing skills, but I do write all the time. This is only one of my journals. Whenever I experience anything, I run it through my head over again and again, wondering how I might best put the experience into words. In grade school we heard often that we should write what we know. Well, my life is ripe with experience. If I could somehow get a handle on all of that experience, find some way to adequately shape it into language, I would not be at all lacking for material to work with.

Neither pastime would earn me much, I'm sure, but were I to save up my money for a few years first conceivably it could work. My cost of living would be low. I wouldn't need much to get by. And if I had to, I could always find some other skill to market to anyone living nearby or traveling past, to earn a supplementary income. I am adaptable and I would find a way.

I don't know that I will ever take such a path, but there is possibility. It is not infeasible. And I find such a life compelling; I believe I would do well and would achieve contentment. It is not the well traveled path, but perhaps it is a path fitting to my gait.

Portland was awesome! I could totally see myself moving there someday. Small, liberal, nice architecture, nice amenities (an amazing independent bookstore!), good public transit, nice location. Very artsy. The weather is still a little too Seattle-like for my tastes, but given everything else, I think that's forgivable.

Friday, Casey McGill, not my favorite. The Viscount was hot and crowded and felt like a battle ground. People were bumping into each other all over the place, and half the leads that grabbed me were seemingly oblivious to everyone around us, as they kept swinging me out into our neighbors. Lots of bad east coast. The downstairs all-ages room was better, but not a lot of energy. Friday latenight was okay, although I was tired and I kept getting pulled away from the dance.

A bunch of my housemates and I spent Saturday afternoon wandering Saturday Market. Very nice. Lots of little booths, artists selling their wares. I'd love to run a booth at a market like that someday and sell some of my own stuff.

Saturday night, I skipped the main venue to go tango at Berretin. It ruled! So much good music, so many amazing tango dancers. I was very happy. Alex let it run a full hour over the published end time, and I happily danced right up until the end. Then latenight again, and I even managed to drag Lorenzo along.

So, in tango, there's this thing where people generally dance a bunch of songs with one another. At a formal tango dance the DJ will play songs in sets of four or five, separated the sets with non-tango songs called Cortinas. The purpose of the Cortina is to break everything up and clear the floor so that people will dance with someone new. At less formal dances, people dance with one another until one thanks the other, and the thank you signals, "It was great dancing with you, but I'm ready to move on now."

In swing, people rarely dance more than one song with each other, unless they're good friends or they knowingly make an exception to the rule because they're enjoying themselves so much. Very different culture.

Lorenzo wasn't aware of this cultural difference. After we'd been at the latenight for a while, I asked him how he was doing. He said in a really dejected voice, "I got a thank you after the first song. I mean, I'm not great at swing, but it's been a long time since that happened." So sad! But funny.

Sunday afternoon there was an outdoor dance in downtown Portland. I only made the very end, but I loved it. We were dancing on brick, which made for a terrible surface, but it was outside and the sun was shining and people were walking by and getting excited about the dancing... all in all, scrumptious. I ate it all up. Wish we had an outdoor venue here. As a poor substitute, I think I'm going to start dragging some friends and a boombox out on the weekends sometimes, and make my own little outdoor dance.

Sunday evening, Lily Wilde at the Crystal Ballroom. Awesome, awesome, awesome. Did I mention that it was awesome? So the Crystal Ballroom has a "sprung floor", built over ball bearings. It moves underneath you. You can feel the rhythm through the floor. Feels so good, makes you want to dance and dance and never stop. Someday, when I am independently wealthy, I am going to build myself a ballroom like that.

Latenight was nice too. Perhaps my favorite venue of the weekend. Less crowded, as people had begun going home, but good music. And they brought in one of the local tango folk, who DJd an alternative tango room downstairs. Terrible, awful floor, but amazing music. And a few other tango aficionados down there mixed in amongst all the bluesy folk. Very nice.

We drove back up after the latenight -- just got in -- and after I post this I'm going to head into work. I had been going to do all the driving, but we ended up picking up another passenger who drives and who was awake and willing to take the wheel. Worked out quite well. I got to grab a few hours of sleep, and now the day should pass a little more easily.

So, anyhow, yeah. Portland = super awesome. I'm sad the weekend is over.

To rub things in, today is beautiful. Perhaps the nicest day we've had all year. Perfectly clear, sunny, warm. The mountains are completely visible, and boy are they something to look at. The air smells delicious. It all makes me want to be outside, but here I am heading into work, instead! Bullocks. Maybe I'll take my lunch outdoors today or something.

I'll be out of town again this weekend, in Portland for the Portland Lindy Exchange. I'm just a travelling fool.

I'll be doing Lindy stuff most of the weekend, but I'm going to skip out on Saturday night to go Tango. Portland Tango folk are awesome! I'm looking forward to seeing them again.

It's a strange world we live in:

• New Service: Send the Ashes of your Loved Ones into Space (Ananova)
• Curious About Cannibals? Win a Jungle Holiday with a New Guinea Tribe (Ananova)
• Benicio del Toro Told His Family He Was Studying Law for Years, Until He Could No Longer Conceal the Truth Due To Oscar Win (Ananova)
• Postman Faces Daily Attacks from Jealous Pheasant (Ananova)
• Rent Professional Party Guests to Liven Your Evening! (Ananova)
• Human Waste Rains Down on Family Home (Ananova)
• Oven Proves a Poor Place to Store Bullets (SFGate)

The apple cider guy was on my bus again this morning. I walked by him when I noticed him, even though the seat next to him was empty. I had my pastels and a little notebook out -- was planning on drawing during the bus ride, and that's not something I'm accustomed to sharing with people I know. Also, somehow, I've gotten so used to being in my own little world on the bus. Not talking to anyone, not really seeing the other people around me. It's hard to break habits like that.

As I was about to sit in a seat by myself, though, I changed my mind and went back to sit next to him.

I still drew for a large part of the ride. Sketched some guy sitting up near the front of the bus.

Apple cider guy asked about the drawing toward the end of the ride, as I was putting it away. He said he hadn't wanted to look, but he hadn't been able to help himself. We chatted for another minute or so, and then the bus hit our stop.

I think he usually rides a little later in the morning than I do. He's cool though; I wouldn't mind riding the same bus more often.

Louie is on dogster! He'll need to edit his info a bit, though. Right now it's rather sparse.

That's right, my pup has joined a social networking site for dogs.

Read all about the site on slashdot. Dogsterrific!

Lorenzo has inspired me to start reading up a bit on US sanctions and trade embargos. There's so much going on in the world that I've never even considered! I feel utterly uninformed, although I've started reading up and working to change that.

I think almost everyone I know called me last night while I was sick and sleepy. If you were one of those many and I sounded really out of it, sorry about that. Take no offense. It wasn't you, really.

Denver always makes me sick. Twice now I've gone, and twice I've come home with a nasty sinus cold.

Hooray for Alex who babied me a bit and fed me last night! Otherwise I probably would have just moped around, felt sorry for myself, and gone to bed without dinner. I can be pretty pathetic when I'm sick.

I think I'll head into work early today, so I can leave a bit earlier than usual and nap this afternoon, if need be.

I'm back, and finally putting XP back on my home machine.

I hate MSBlast. MSBlast is my arch-nemesis. The battles were long and bitter, but I am proud to report that I have ultimately trimphed.

I was so tired last night. Meant to go out for a bit, but could hardly even drag myself to my bed. And all this at 10:00 PM! Very sad.

I feel much more rested now. Good thing; I've slept through boarding calls at airports before, and it's not a pretty sight.

Man, I can be so stupid. I planned out my whole bus trip to the airport last night, ahead of time. Was very proud of myself. In doing so, though, I forgot that buses here have different schedules on weekends than they do on weekdays, and didn't notice that I was looking at a weekday schedule. Turns out that the route I need doesn't run early enough on Saturdays to get me there on time.

Hooray for Alex, who is rescuing me and giving me a last minute ride.

A few awesome links for those of you who missed them the first time around:

• All your base are belong to us!
• I like monkeys.
• Bunny Survival Tests, to determine weaknesses and strengths possessed by "Marshmallow Bunnies".
• PeepResearch.org, to promote the careful study and promotion of Peeps well-being.
• Oolong, the rabbit with a talent for "head performance".
• Windows Haiku Error Messages.
• Fully functional lego furniture. Awesome!
• The Hamster Dance. Remember when dancing hamsters were the shiznit?
• I Will Survive.
• The dancing baby that started it all.
• Strongbad Email. Kickass.
• Buggin' you is easy because you're buggable!
• I can smell your brains.

It's Skuld, bonding with a small flock of birds! Only those of you who knew me back in my ROM days (and know a bit about my home life as well) can understand how relevant I find this picture to be.

I have a doctor's appointment at noon, and I have to fast for the 12 hours before. Already, I am so hungry. I want food. Can't stop thinking of food. Sooooo hungry...

I guess maybe that will make the eating better when I do get to eat?

Today is going to be an awesome day. I can already feel it.

Last night was pretty awesome, too. I'm so happy that Mija came out tango dancing! She's going to kick ass. And aside from the dancing, it was nice just hanging out with her for a bit. She's seemed pretty cool ever since I first met her, but I never had the chance to get to know her too well. There's always been this sort of wall between us, ever since the whole Mike thing. Miles says that he thinks we're both over that, though.

Speaking of fire, I got this gem of an email from Steve:

From: Steve Strauch
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2004 11:29 AM
Subject: A new recipe

My girlfriend and I made a New Year's resolution to eat in more and as a result, we've been trying to learn to cook. On Monday night we discovered this great new recipe that I thought I would share with you. Best of luck!

Kitchen Fire Pork

1. Begin cooking this recipe only after 11pm when you are tired and neighbors are sleeping
   
2. Add 1 inch vegetable oil to Dutch Oven.
   
3. Mistakenly assume that, to heat the oil to 375 degrees you must put the burner on high for say 5 or 6 minutes.
   
4. Loose track of time preparing the pork.
   
5. Do NOT stir the oil. Allow the surface tension to build as the oil below overheats.
   
6. Place pork on a cookie sheet and walk over to the burner.
   
7. Decide that you want the cookbook with you. Put the pork plate ON TOP of the Dutch Oven, cause pressure to build.
   
8. Return with the cookbook and remove the pork plate from the top of the Dutch Oven, disturbing the surface tension of the oil and injecting fresh oxygen.
   
9. Watch as a flames shoot out of the Dutch Oven.
   
10. Scream "Fire, Fire"
    
11. Irrationally think to yourself... "Since covering the pork helped cause the problem, covering the flaming Dutch Oven will make the fire worse."
    
12. Watch your cabinets catch on fire.
    
13. Run out of the apartment without your cell phone.
    
14. Try to get neighbor to call 911 while she screams at you for making her apartment smell like smoke. Repeat until she shuts up and calls 911.
    
15. Don't notice other neighbor and girlfriend re-entering apartment to try to throw baking soda on the fire.
    
16. Notice when the baking soda causes fire to flare all the way to the ceiling and said neighbor and girlfriend scream and exit the apartment
    
17. Freak out, imagining carnage scenes from Backdraft while level headed upstairs neighbor gets a fire extinguisher from building basement and puts out the fire.
    
18. Wish you were him.
    
19. Meet some cool firemen.
    
20. Call your landlord, who you called only a few days earlier to say you'd be moving out in 3 weeks. Listen to her react calmly as she weeps on the inside.
    
21. Spend next day cleaning soot, extinguisher residue off everything in the house. Enjoy scrubbing kitchen grout with toothbrush.
    
22. Be thankful no one was hurt and damage was mostly limited to kitchen.
    
23. DON'T tell your new coop community about the incident. They can vote you out.

Yes, he did indeed set his kitchen on fire last weekend. Poor Steve! I'm glad to see that he still has his sense of humor.

Listening to tango music while working today was awesome. I loved Le Grand Tango off of Hiromi Uekusa - Cafe 1930, featuring Hiromi Uekusa on cello and Mika Sunago on piano. The cello was absolutely delectable!

I get to see Denver this weekend. Fly out early Saturday morning, fly back Monday morning just in time for work. I'll play in the snow, wrestle around with another dog, and dance lindy and tango with new people. And hang with Ben, who is awesome. And by awesome, I mean annoying and stupid, so don't go getting a huge ego or anything, Benito.

So much excitement, I'm not sure how I can handle it all!

I found a website all about Piazzolla! A million amazing sound clips -- so much good music to listen to. Pure audio goodness. I've been meaning to expand my familiarity with the music. This provides me such opportunity; work will fly by in a haze of tango-inspired productivity, I am sure.

My carpal tunnel has been acting up again. Right wrist and elbow have hurt incredibly ever since yesterday evening. Makes me sad.

And then, last night, I had strange, violent nightmares. Kidnapping and torture and forced mutilation, lots of running and running and running away. Not pretty. I don't know where they came from, but I wish they'd go away.

Riding back from the beach tonight on I5 South, downtown Seattle over Lake Union caught my attention. It was so beautiful. An island of lights, a graceful glittering blanket draped over the skyline. Electrifying.

At the same time, I found myself thinking of what downtown can seem up close. In the heart of downtown, up close and personal, it can be so ugly. All the dank alleys, the dumpsters, the trash on the streets, the boundless cement, the dirt and hustle and bustle of city life everywhere you look.

I wonder if many things are like that -- extraordinarily beautiful if only you can gain the distance and perspective to view them from the right vantage point.

Have you ever wondered about what you'd like done with your body when you've passed on? Ever pondered cremation?

The thought of cremation always bothered me. I've had this body for as long as I've had memory. I can't comprehend existence outside of this body. I can't comprehend an existence that doesn't include me, doesn't include my body. It's a lot to think about, to stomach, to handle.

The thought of death itself is distressing enough. And then to think the form of my body being changed after my death -- this body that I've been so attached to for all of my life -- I don't know. Somehow I always get stuck on that.

But tonight, gazing into the fire, into the flames and the coals -- watching the tree suddenly consumed, its whole being changed, passing into dust and ashes -- watching the chair burn away into nothing, this chair that meant so much and had so many bad feelings and memories attached to it -- it suddenly seemed so much easier to get my head around cremation.

Death is a change of form. The consummation of the fire... it seems almost fitting. Better than rotting away, a slow uneasy transformation. Fire is transcendent. Just watching it is breathtaking. To be a part of it, to be consumed by it, changed, transformed... I don't know. It's almost celestial, moreso than most anything else in my living experience.

You haven't seen anything until you've seen a dead, dry tree explode into flames. It was awesome. Truely one of the most breathtaking things I've seen.

And it was so suddenly hot that it melted holes in Alex's bag, sitting several feet away. Not cool for Alex, but indicative of how amazingly hot and large the fire was all at once. And the fire just consumed the tree -- ate it up. The tree was one thing, and then was transformed so quickly into another plane of being. I've never seen anything burst into flames so explosively or be so quickly consumed by the fire.

I want to burn my tree every year.

I also never want to live in a fire zone. Like in the parts of Colorado that are all dry in the summer and anything can set them off.

I think I've been in too much of a rut lately, seeing too many of the same people, doing too many of the same things. It's like my life has become a script that I've read a million times, a movie that I've seen over and over again, and I always know what's coming up and what the next person is going to say.

Heading out to the beach tonight and then hanging out with Dawn after was cool. Something different, new conversation. A breath of fresh air in a room that's gotten a bit stale.

One of my coworkers accidentally deleted a bunch of stuff from one of my servers today. Get to rebuild it now. Fun.

At least I won't be bored?

And karmicly, I probably deserve it. I did screw up someone else's server half a year or so ago when I first started over there.

It's a cold and drizzly day, but the tree burning is on. And we're going to burn a certain broken chair that's been sitting out on my balcony for almost a year now.

Yes, Mike, you know that chair. We will purge all the badness so that you can move on. Not that you haven't already. Or whatever. You know. I'll save you some of the charred remains if you like.

Yay for bonfires...

Steve says, "If it's meant to work out it will -- none of these things will matter. So don't stress over them."

Ah, Steve. Always a voice of wisdom and reason in this manic whirlwind of confusion and chaos.

I've been breaking my New Year's Resolutions like crazy.

Everything feels good right now, but I'm worried that I'm setting myself up for a fall. Second guessing myself a lot. Thinking that perhaps I need to be better to myself and make choices that, although not what I would wish, might be better for me in the long run.

I hate that. Why can't the choices that are better for me in the long run also be the choices that I am passionately drawn to?

It's settled. Tomorrow will be the Day of the Great Tree Burning.

My Christmas tree has had a lovely run, but it is time for it to go -- and ah, what a way to go! We will have a great bonfire on the beach, roasting hotdogs and marshmallows as the sun sets over the water.

Miles has to be at work earlier than normal this week, so that means we get to carpool.

Bonus! Carpool! I get a ride. Rides get me to work quicker than the bus (no waiting around at bus stops and no campus shuttles). They even get me to work quicker than driving myself (no fighting for parking. finding a spot anywhere near my building is impossible).

On the downside, if I drag my feet it affects more than just me. That means no foot dragging. And I'm so good at dragging my feet. Bummer.

Off to bed now, so that I can be ready for him to pick me up in 7 1/2 hours. Joy.

I was really on at the lindy dance tonight! The last two nights my dancing has been okay, not great -- but tonight, I was feeling it. I was connecting well, moving well, really feeling and dancing the music. It's funny, how every once in a while everything just works. I'm not sure why I can only dance like this every so often -- you'd think that if I could do it once, I could do it always.

I have a blister on my left pinky toe now and my legs hurt in places they haven't hurt in a while. I guess dancing well works my body in different ways than the way I usually dance does. Funny, that.

The tiger dress was a hit too. I like tigers.

A short science lesson for those of you who are less informed:

A sundog is a set of two short rainbows, one on each side of the sun. I used to think that they were caused by extreme cold because they only appeared on the coldest days in Minnesota, but apparently that is not the case. According to one site I found, "Sundogs reveal that the clouds are hosting horizontal plate crystals. These plates drift slowly downwards like leaves with their large faces almost horizontal. [They] are formed when light passes through crystal side faces inclined at 60° to each other."

The IRS has accepted my return! Yay me.