My first week in an unfamiliar place.
There are so many experiences I've had that I meant to share, but by the time I find the energy to write about it, they're gone from my memory. In a sense maybe that's part of the beauty of such things, their fleeting nice-ness, once given, then gone. I guess there's a sort of Nietzsche-esque grace in that.
On a less hippie-ish note, I'm ok. Not doing fantastic, but I'm ok. Haven't found a job yet, had a couple interviews, no call backs. If this next week goes by with still no results I have decided that I shall join the ranks of the Seattle baristas making a steady $10.50 an hour. :3
A few people popped into my thoughts last night. To my droogs; Jessie, Dave, Rory, Nik, April and Iain: I wish I'd remembered to get on the computer to write to you last night when I still remembered the lovely things I wanted to express to you, but Steve was using the computer at the time and when he'd gone to bed I'd forgotten what it was I had wanted to do in the first place. How typically Me. Arrr.
I tend to get easily discouraged, it's only been a week but at the same time I'm not very patient. I hope I can learn that up here, among other valuable lessons. I don't feel that this is Home yet. I don't feel the unending calm and life that this place infused me with the last time I had visited. Maybe it's just my cynicism and "City Sickness" still struggling to maintain its venomous grip on my mind. When I'm finally settled, I can finally open my doors to anyone who wants to come play in the woods or out by Washington Lake, which I keep hearing is one of the most beautiful things on the west coast during the summertime. Funny as well, that everyone I strike up a friendly chat with seems to be from California! The Macy's cashier, the coffeehouse girl, the comic shop owner, the grocery store bag boy, the pet store clerk, even the subway sammich-maker who barely spoke english. Heh. I found that sort of funny. Not funny ha-ha, more like funny-oh-that's-almost-interesting. Ah, well.
To the six people that still somehow kept their Light in that crazy maelstrom of anger and concrete: I miss you. (Plus one, although I have yet to meet the famous baby Salem. I'd call you Lil' 7 but I think your mommy would glare a hole right through my head.)
On a less hippie-ish note, I'm ok. Not doing fantastic, but I'm ok. Haven't found a job yet, had a couple interviews, no call backs. If this next week goes by with still no results I have decided that I shall join the ranks of the Seattle baristas making a steady $10.50 an hour. :3
A few people popped into my thoughts last night. To my droogs; Jessie, Dave, Rory, Nik, April and Iain: I wish I'd remembered to get on the computer to write to you last night when I still remembered the lovely things I wanted to express to you, but Steve was using the computer at the time and when he'd gone to bed I'd forgotten what it was I had wanted to do in the first place. How typically Me. Arrr.
I tend to get easily discouraged, it's only been a week but at the same time I'm not very patient. I hope I can learn that up here, among other valuable lessons. I don't feel that this is Home yet. I don't feel the unending calm and life that this place infused me with the last time I had visited. Maybe it's just my cynicism and "City Sickness" still struggling to maintain its venomous grip on my mind. When I'm finally settled, I can finally open my doors to anyone who wants to come play in the woods or out by Washington Lake, which I keep hearing is one of the most beautiful things on the west coast during the summertime. Funny as well, that everyone I strike up a friendly chat with seems to be from California! The Macy's cashier, the coffeehouse girl, the comic shop owner, the grocery store bag boy, the pet store clerk, even the subway sammich-maker who barely spoke english. Heh. I found that sort of funny. Not funny ha-ha, more like funny-oh-that's-almost-interesting. Ah, well.
To the six people that still somehow kept their Light in that crazy maelstrom of anger and concrete: I miss you. (Plus one, although I have yet to meet the famous baby Salem. I'd call you Lil' 7 but I think your mommy would glare a hole right through my head.)