Slip inside.
I work & I sleep & I dance & I'm dead
I'm eatin, I'm laughin, I'm lovin myself
We're eatin' off plates and we kiss with our tongues
Like Humans Do
I'm breathin in, I'm breathin out
So slip inside this funky house
Dishes in the sink
The TV's in repair
Don't look at the floor
Don't go up the stairs
I'm achin, I'm shakin, I'm breakin
Yesterday Rachel Swan and I chucked off for the afternoon and filled up the two cushy chairs in the corner at Starbucks for several hours. I don't know how to describe such a significant conversation without branching off into cliches. It was refreshing, I'll just remind myself.
It seems everyone's got it bad.
It must be the weather - or all the flowers and trees blossoming and pollen sifting through the air like light snow. Everyone's catching the "gotta get some." We're all wrapped up to our necks in "maybe's" and "I hope so's" as we try to stoop for signs of twitterpainting in anyone we can lay hands on.
Is it something in the water? Something we should have gotten shots for at the beginning of the season? What is it about sunshine and cherry blossoms and bunnies gettin' it on in the bushes that makes us want to skip around and hold hands with the members of the pen 15 club?
Something's got me listening to cheesey 80s love songs and taking long wandering walks in the woods. Something's got him taking twenty-minute walks down to the Starbucks in U village to catch her as she mixes frappuccinos. Something's got her checking her email every ten minutes for something from him so far, far away even when she knows it'll just be about the perfect girl he's already found. Something's got him calling me every other day to ask why girls don't call when they say they will. Something's got her having make-out dreams about Joey Jeremiah more than once and actually enjoying it. Something's got him staying up until 3am on the computer talking online about nothing important when he knows he has school in the morning. Something's got her biting her lip before she takes a sip of her frappuccino and then tells me exactly what happened the last night they were together.
I don't know... but it seems like everyone's got it.
It hurts... it hurts in that spot between your ribs off to the left a little. It hurts when you realize that summer's going to come and go without any hand-holding, any smooching, or even any accidental opposite-sex-best-friend make-outs. It hurts when you lean in close to the mirror and blame your small thin lips or round cheeks or silly haircut. It hurts when you start getting excited because someone finally seems to get you... but then the signs are all wrong and you can't decide whether you're supposed to be sparkling with excitement or backing off a little so you don't creep anyone out. But you drop by their place anyway and they give you the last of their otter pops and you don't ever know what to say.
Last night I drove out to Seattle again. I dropped Jessie off at Forrest's house then stopped by Brett's dorm at UW. He fed me well on otter pops and we watched Eddie Izzard. Brett is someone who can tell when you just want to sit and watch Eddie Izzard and not talk about what's bothering you. I think he could tell what it was, but he didn't say anything. Much relieved, I got to slurp down my otter pops and laugh at Eddie in that high-pitched goofy way I always laugh - people used to tell me I sound like a woodpecker. Then I'd punch them in the face.
I dropped by Forrest's house again. I was stuffed with otter pops and we all watched Degrassi like a bunch of nerds. I let Forrest use my tablet to practice his drawing and then posted his artwork on the Internet without permission.
Jessie and I have a dynamic of meanness between us. I think Forrest felt a little bit the victim but I wouldn't dish it out if I didn't know he could take it. At least Forrest hasn't hit me. I hope he never does.
I came home and wasn't feeling quite ready to crawl into bed so I slipped into my sensible cotton jammies and turned on star trek.
I still say that the man who will sweep me off my feet will actually suggest watching star trek all on his own. Boys are so scared of being nerdy.
I shot off a few emails and finally did submit to sleep. I woke up at noon today.
I want to take the car downtown. Just out exploring again. Yesterday I drove Naomi out to ballet in Preston. I had to wait for an hour before she was done. I dropped her off at the door and decided to explore Preston for as long as I could. The roads were different than Bellevue roads. They twisted around and up and down in hills almost as if they accidentally sneaked into the forest. It was so lush and quiet. I drove up into some Private Roads on the mountain, I don't know what mountain, but I was going up the whole time. It was breathtakingly beautiful up there. It was almost eerie - all those private properties tucked away and spoiled by all the prettiest forest on every side.
No sharing.
I could tell they were the crabby kind of woods people who live "ten miles away from the nearest town or crapshack" for a reason. I drove as quietly as possible and only saw one of the proprietors - an old woman in a red track suit who glared at me as I passed her on her way out to the mailboxes. The houses were lovely and huge. When I get to be a wealthy writer I want to live in one of those houses. So when I finally do let someone come and interview me at my house they'll write in the intro to the interview about the forest crowding over the driveway ominously and all the foreboding "no trespassing" signs tacked up along the road. There will be a photograph of me standing out on my oak deck with my arms folded and me scowling off into the forest... all because I'm tired of all the loud nosy publicity I get when I'm in the city.
There was one very old house with ivy crawling up the sides and a sign hanging crookedly over the doorway that read: "Reconstruction." A bus stacked on cinder blocks with rust spots and possibly no floor leaned out of the driveway into the road as if it were waiting for cars to pass so it could take off driving again. It was spooky.
I finally drove back to ballet and spent ten minutes sitting in the car listening to Colby Stead songs and taking notes so I can draw more for our project.
I do like being in the car.
Mebbe I'll take a shower and call Jessie and Forrest and see what they're doing... I like those guys.
Times twenty.
Oh, Haley's here.
Nevermind... I'm going to the park!
I'm breathin in
I'm breathin out
So slip Inside this funky house
Wiggle while you work
Anybody can
The rain is pourin in on a woman & a man
I'm achin
I'm shakin
I'm breakin
Like Humans Do
- David Byrne