number eleven: madison beach

i think eleven is my favorite number to write out. eleven eleven eleven eleven.

ok, now that's out of my system i think.

eleven eleven. ok, for reals now...

i think today goes down as one of the best saturdays in history. well, in my own personal history. i'm sure there have been other saturdays in history that are more significant. but i'm self interested, so eff those other saturdays, i know you're all dying to hear about my day. clearly, since you're reading this.


my morning isn't important, but where i wound up i think is. if you're from seattle, you know how perfect this city is in the sunshine. and once the weather warms up, i guarantee a post about why i think seattle summers are utterly wonderful. but on a perfect day, regardless of the season, when there are fluffy clouds out and it's bright enough to warrant sunglasses, the streets become a playground for observation rather than something you dash across to get out of the rain.

today the sidewalks, parks, benches, and even rooftops were crowded. and in the best way. they were crowded with fellow emerald city patrons in love with this city. as i was driving down to madison beach though capital hill (i apparently take the longest possible route anywhere) something i noticed more than anything was the abundance of smiles. something i'm learning about spending so much time talking to people not from this area is this behavior seattle folk have called the seattle freeze. apparently, we're all bitches. yeah, and they're not just talking about the people who live in capital hill. but today, i didn't see a trace of that. people were actually smiling at each other. i smiled at a lady crossing the street and felt that little bit of magic between strangers. i forgot how wonderful that is.

as mentioned, i wound up in madison beach. specifically i met danielle and hilary for lunch at cactus and had the most wonderful quesadilla in the world. and any opportunity i have for girl talk is likely to make any day pretty damn wonderful. but after lunch is when the glory of my day really took hold.

the girls had to leave for danielle to go meet her new boyfriends parents (EXCITING!!) so i decided to take advantage of the weather with the world's best wingman: man's best friend. mac my puppy is pretty much the cutest, least obedient, most easily distracted pup in the world. but he makes for damn good company on the seattle streets- he even manages to poop when there's no one on the same street as us so when i'm a bad owner and forget bags i don't get chewed out for not cleaning up after him. warning: there's a big dog dump on 42nd and lee.

so mac and i took it to the streets. madison beach is an adorable little pocket in the city. because you're pulled away from downtown and the freeway, it really is like being in a different city. there's even free parking. and there's an open expanse of water with other puppies playing. and in the summer, the popsicle man comes through.

the real thing i love about this neighborhood are the homes. they're incredible. a combination of classic crafstman and bungalo stacked right next to contemporary design. i love neighborhoods like that, without a consistent look so each house you walk past gives a new experience. i am in love with houses, hence why i spent my afternoon wandering the streets and staring. and wishing i'd brought my camera to take pictures of strangers houses. the whole time, mac wandered along with me and only jumped all over two people.

all the while, the sun was shining and people were smiling.




i never thought i'd be the kind of person to talk about the weather. but today was perfect. it's days like today that make me sure that i can't live anywhere else but this city. and i hope someday i'll trick a man into marrying me who will be able to buy me one of those pretty houses i spent my afternoon obsessing over.

number ten: pretty songs

i'm a typical girl in countless ways. i love bad romantic comedies. i wear dresses almost exclusively. i drink bitch beer. another thing that unites me with many other ovary-possessing humans is that the music i prefer tends to be soft and sweet with lyrics revolving about romance. or the lack thereof.

i've been spending a lot of time applying for jobs lately. like 3-6 hours per day. sounds terrible? tell me about it. it's consumed a great deal of my free time and in the process, is starting to kill my spirit about my future. i've always believed that i am the sort of person capable of anything. i'm impossibly charming, relentlessly driven, capable of meeting every challenge, and (clearly) shamelessly confident. you'd think i'd be a hot commodity. but that appears not to be the case after submitting easily 60something applications and rarely moving forward to getting an interview. saying that this all is frustrating would be a giant understatement.

the thing that's been keeping me sane through this process and preventing me from getting an ulcer from all the stress is the pretty music i always play in the background.

i'm kind of a pandora junkie. which i think is the healthiest sort of junkie to be. the kate nash station plays the sort of music that tends to be upbeat, maybe at times slightly melancholy. for whatever reason these pretty tunes (sung by ladies currently employed and probably not living in their parent's basements) put me at ease while at the same time allows me to be sort of sad about this process. and then, out of no where, a fantastic, upbeat, excitement producing song comes on and all my motivation is restored. and i suddenly feel less like the unhirable history major i apparently appear to be on paper and more like who i really am: the woman who any organization would be damn lucky to have on their payroll.

because i'm worth every. last. cent.

days like today i need to remind myself that good things will happen. people always tell me that, and i tend to write it off. i'm a realist, but about my future i am working on regaining the optimism that's gotten me this far. so tristan prettyman, keep singing and keeping me on track so the rest of my life can hurry up and start.

number nine: post secret

sunday is probably my favorite day of the week. it used to be because this was my guaranteed day to sleep in. as i'm committing to yoga on sundays now, that will no longer be the case. other than sleeping in, sunday is my favorite because it feels like the one day where there isn't much i'm expected to do with accompaniment. it's like i get up, and the whole day is wide open to me... to do laundry... read a book... walk my dog... go sit in a museum... go to the library... and it's ok that i do all these things in silence and on my own. i like being alone more than most i think. and sundays i could easily spend the whole day in silence quite happily.

sundays are also my favorite day of the week because of a blog i discovered my freshman year at SU. i can remember this moment perfectly, walking past the bistro on my way to c-street to get a meal passing this bulletin board about an event on campus for postsecret. the add said something about the power of secrets or something, but i blew it off and missed the event. then, i stumbled upon the site and have been kicking myself for not attending frank warren's talk ever since.

the website is postsecret.com, and the basic premise for the site and also the books is that warren publishes postcards that people all around the world have sent him. these postcards are of people's secrets: they can be big or little, happy or sad, complex or simple, serious or hilarious. before coming across this site, i'd always thought of secrets as being some heavy, dramatic thing we all hold inside. and now i realize that they can be that, as well as a million other things.

the thing about the site, which makes warren one of the most wonderful people i can think of, is that the site unites people. when a person is feeling hopeless, as if life is crushing in all around them, the postcards demonstrate that a person is never really alone in misery or whatever else we're feeling at the time. we're all miserable, elated, crazy, hopeful, and mischievous.

i just appreciate anything that celebrates the emotions we all feel, and attempts to unite people on that basis. also, when reading some of these over the years, it's like i can feel the weight being lifted off the person's shoulders upon letting my eyes come across it.

i've never submitted anything to postsecret, mostly because i've never had a secret i haven't shared. but someday i might. and i'm glad that if there's ever something i need to get off my chest, the outlet is only a mailbox away.

below i've re-posted some of my favorite postcards from over the years. enjoy. consider. sleep well.

number eight: left over thai food

first of all, when googling "fear of..." the first thing that comes up is "fear of long words." i want to meet a person who is afraid of long words and shout things like "antidisestablishmentarianism" at them. but alas, this post isn't about long words (although don't doubt that a later post won't be).

i was trying to find the correct name for fear of going on dates, but google failed me. and this google search wouldn't have been completely accurate in the first place- i'm not afraid of dates, i just like to avoid them at all cost. don't believe me? i've canceled just about every date in the past two years i've been asked out on. it's become a running joke for all my friends. typically the surest way to get me to want to spend time with you is NOT to ask me out. sorry men, i'm just another lady whose rationale is anything but rational.

against my better judgment, and with the coercion of kara "smith," i signed up for online dating. for someone who hates dating, this really doesn't make any sense. however i will say i love the conversation the site provides. and who doesn't like being flirted with? the site i'm using is okcupid.com, because it's free. if you're considering trying out a site, i highly recommend it. i was semi-freaked out to try it (worried i was going to be sent messages by countless creepers) but overall it's been a pleasant experience. but like i said before, generally when someone requests a date or drinks, i stop responding to them. just because it seems like the most rational (read: irrational) thing to do.

since the new year turned over, i've been feeling more like myself but less like myself at the same time. confusing? tell me about it. what i mean is this- i feel more like i did when i was thirsty for something interesting. something new. and less like myself in that i don't feel as committed to ruitine and in fact want the oppostite of that. so the other night, i actually went out on a date.

i won't go into details, but for my AVID readers just know it was nice. any date that results in left over thai food is a good one in my book. any date that results in left over thai AND a few days worth of ridiculously fun texting results in a second date too apparently. this post wasn't about what i'd intended to go into, but i think that's maybe the point. i'm enjoying all the things that are coming my way. discovering that if i approach life ready to face whatever fears or apprehensions i have, at least if nothing else in the end i'm left with fantastic left overs.

number seven: love letters

last night i couldn't sleep. this happens a lot, i'm exhausted most of the day and then completely restless at night. so to cure my tossing and turning, i tend to read until i can't keep my eyes open. last night i wasn't in the mood to get heavily involved in the holocaust journal i'm in the midst of, so i took a gander at my bookshelf and decided to take a look at a book my mom gave me last year for christmas. she knows how nosy i am and gave me a book entitled "other people's love letters," which is a scrapbook of love letters, rejections, poems, and other mementos that document bits and pieces of a tryst.

i love that word, tryst.

i have a tendency to keep every scrap of paper ever given to me. i have a giant box of notes folded only the way 8th grade girls can fold, cards given for various birthdays from relatives i only see at christmas, and pictures from coloring books colored by the most irritating little girls who liked to pee in public places and made me look like a terrible nanny. i also have saved every love letter ever written to me. this can be hazardous when i'm feeling self destructive, bitter, or drunk. however, i've been giving this whole love letter business a second thought since reading through that book last night. most notably, i've come to the conclusion that love letters aren't strictly romantic, from the people we share epic make out sessions with. but they are also the written proof of unimaginable, awe inspiring, friendships.

everyone loves feeling loved. duh. but outside of your middle school boyfriends and the best friends who braid friendship bracelets, a written piece of love doesn't really exist anymore. i guess that's what makes the concept so special as we get older. i was reading letters written by adults, so enamored with their significant other they couldn't just say it- they had to write it down. that sort of documentation signifies something great, something romantic, and perhaps something that suddenly blindsides you that you can't live without.

the love letters i've always loved receiving and enjoyed reading last night are the ones that document a fleeting, fly by night, random, especially ridiculous event or trait that is totally exclusive to the relationship and person. and often, the note points something out that the other person had no idea was noticed. which makes it all the more unique and incredible.

people need to feel loved more often. i recently received a love letter from one of my oldest, dearest friends and i know it's a piece of paper that will never end up in the recycle. maybe we should all write down our love more, maybe people would hurt less if we did. maybe on a very bad terrible no good day those little mumblings of adoration and affection are what everyone needs. we need to love each other more, and write it down so that in times of doubt, when a hand can't be held, those words are there.

just a suggestion.

number six: car dancing

do me a favor, while you're reading this post listen to florence and the machine. specifically, 'the dog days are over' or 'hurricane drunk.'


if you knew me in high school, you probably saw me dancing in the halls. without any musical accompaniment of course. side note- my first real boyfriend said that's what got his attention... knowing this always makes me smile. if you knew me at seattle university, you might have spotted me dancing on the island in the kitchen of 17th and jefferson. probably very sloppily. and if you knew me while at western, i could often be spotted shaking it to salt and peppa or a little britney with a whiskey sour in my hot little hand. again, probably very sloppily.

i don't understand people who don't dance. this means you, sarah paschall. who can listen to music, and is not inclined to lose all control? that's how i dance, without any sort of control. well, that's not how i always dance, but it is when i'm emotionally involved with the music. do you ever notice that? how certain songs you can just get completely lost in? those are my favorite kinds of songs, and i've met quite a few of them. some of the best memories i have are dancing my face off with scott morgan, at the wild buffalo, on funk mondays in 2009. fall quarter i'd put on my favorite jeans, leave my heels in my closet in favor of a pair of ratty converse i've had since 8th grade, and forget that i had class the next morning. it was amazing because i'd leave all my baggage at the door (and we all know i've got a lot of baggage) and just feel alive.

isn't that what they say music does- make you feel alive? let you get lost for a minute? i think somewhere over the past year i forgot that. i let myself start to believe that a dance floor was just another place where i might get some attention. i have the tendency to be an attention whore- i'll completely own that. but what i realized tonight while driving is that i've forgotten the joy that comes when you just dance your butt off and not care and really not want anyone to be looking. tonight i worked it out HARD when 'dog days' came on. like i probably should have pulled over i was dancing so hard. the feeling you get from getting entangled with a verse is something i'd lost until tonight. and it's funny how much someone so alive can forget what it feels like to really explode with life.

there's a difference between the two, and i hope you all explode someday soon. with love, and life, and joy, and grief, and passion. and i hope you all feel the weight that lifts when you get lost shaking your butt behind a steering wheel.