(no subject)
Ah, it feels good not to have to go to work .at 11:30
I have delicious, delicious German peasant food in my stomach. Earlier today (around 3 PM, basically right when I woke up) Markus and I went to the IMA and he taught me how to dive properly. Like, diving team dives... I had a problem with this mainly because I like to see where I'm going before I go there. However when you dive properly - be it a starting block dive or off the diving board - you tuck your chin in. When you're starting on the ground or on a diving block, this means you're looking at your feet and can't even see the water (even though you know it's just a few inches away). When you go off the board... well, I had a tendency to lift my head up, which resulted in faceplants. Yipee! By the end, though, I'd become proficient.
We then ventured to QFC and picked up ingredients for aforementioned deliciousness. Upon journeying to Chateau Femme, we commenced with the cooking. It is a type of cheese casserole; Markus didn't know the English name, if there even is one. We made the noodles ourselves by mixing eggs, flour and a bit of salt together and squeezing it into a pot of boiling water through a noodle compressor that looked very much like a meat tenderizer, only with holes in it. We also sauteed onions and bacon together, and grated a large mound of cheese - a very good swiss and another kind of cheese that I believe is called guierre, or something like that. Monica came over in the middle of this process and helped us layer the ingredients. Then I had to leave for Teen Feed, and they finished the dish by popping it in the oven for 30 minutes.
Oh man. It's so good. I don't even care that I still have a huge mess in the kitchen to clean up.
And the dance last night... definitely so good. The performance team show was surprisingly fantastic. The ending was sloppy, of course, because we'd just learned it the practice before the show and never once really done it right, but it went as well as it possibly could have considering. I heard David yelling even louder than the rest when Carrot and I did black bottom, haha. The girly routine... less so. I'm sure all of the other girls did amazingly, but it was the first time wearing my dress and frankly I was worried my boob would pop out. Thankfully it didn't, and as the night went on I realized that my worries had been unfounded, but it was definitely distracting during the actual show. Ah well, such is life.
The actual dance itself was loads of fun. I got to dance with a bunch of fun people, met a few others and Markus even showed up and stayed through all of it even though he'd been poisoned earlier in the day as he set up a fishtank. I know he had fun despite his griping.
The afterparty was a sleepy dream. Changed back into my more comfortable outfit and slipped on my blues dancing socks. Learned that my back is more messed up than it feels. It makes sense. Normally I'm find, but every once in a while a shooting pain runs through it. It started with my UPS job, so clearly I'm not lifting my boxes correctly, but honestly it's kind of hard to use the "8 Methods of Lifting and Loading" the entire time when you're being rushed. Blech. But hey, my benefits pay for chiropractor visits, so if I ever need 'em or just want them, I'm golden. Blues dancing is so much fun, though. For those few minutes, I am completely involved, inseperable almost, from that one person. To have a really good blues dance, you have to fall in love a little bit every time, to respond to their every touch. It's not just a connection of bodies, it's a harmony of souls. And then the song is finished, and you smile at them and walk away. That's it, the moment is over. And it's beautiful.
I got a ring at Teen Feed tonight. Normally, I wouldn't have accepted it; it's not allowed for volunteers to have relationships (friendship, romance, what-have-you) with guests because of the imbalanced nature of it; we control resources that they need. The guy who gave it to me said he had taken up glassblowing and jewelry making as a way to take his mind off his addiction while he was waiting to get a prescription for his medication. When at first I refused he said, (and I paraphrase) "No, really! I like giving things to people, it's not like that. I mean, you taking this is kind of a way for you to help me get over my addiction." How could I say no to that? It's a well-crafted ring, too, made of freshwater pearls and gold wire that he got from someone for free. He's also the type of person I really like talking to at Teen Feed, because he's striving to get his life together. A lot - though not all - of the guests are like that; they'll come in looking raggedy and strung out, and in a few months they'll be cleaned up with a decent job and a place to live in the works. It's a good feeling, to know I'm helping people on that pathway. In a sense I'll always prefer helping the younger disadvantaged - be they street youth or the high school kids that will be attending the International Leadership Academy of Ethiopia that Laura is working on - because they are the ones that still have the dreams and the potential to make something of themselves.
Which reminds me of an encounter with an adult homeless person.
It occured almost a month ago now, while I was still working as a canvaser for Children International. I was working a street corner downtown. Now, I've always had a bit of a problem differentiating homeless people from the rest of society; there were very few homeless where I grew up and I've had to learn the telltale signs in my past few months in Seattle. Obviously the bum sleeping on cardboard under the alcove of an abandoned building is a dead giveaway, but even today if a homeless person isn't lugging all of his worldly possessions around on his back, I'm not sure I can call him (or her) homeless.
Anyways, I stopped one guy who genuinely looked self-sufficient. Not the richest guy ever, but clean, with no hole in his clothes or anything. Even handsome in a sense.
"You know why I stopped?" he says to me right off the bat. "Why?" I asked, smiling. "Because you're pretty. I stopped and I'm gonna hear you out because you're a pretty young woman." I laughed and thanked him, because you meet a lot of oddballs on the street and he's not the strangest person I've encountered.
The following was one of the most involved conversations that I'd ever had with a person I'd stopped - after a few minutes it stopped being about getting him to sponsor a child (so yes, at that point I wasn't doing my job anymore) and more exploring his political views. Which were along the lines of, 'why don't I help myself instead of wasting all this effort away?' Essentially he detailed how everyone - government, organizational structures, even charities - take advantage of those working for them, that I was getting jipped and eventually I would realize what was going on and realize that my efforts were worthless. Obviously I disagreed, but I was willing to acknowledge that he had more experience than I and that there are a lot of scams out there that one has to be careful to avoid.
I eventually excused myself from the conversation because I had work to do, but he stopped me and said, "Now I'm going to tell you something that will make you regret this entire conversation and discredit me completely." He paused for a minute - he had very intense eyes, perhaps because the whites of them were so bright against his skin. "I am homeless. I have been for 7 years."
I raised my eyebrows at him. "That doesn't change things a bit," I replied. But as he started walking away, I asked, "Why?"
"Because I can!" he yelled over his shoulder, grinning.
Now THAT changed my perspective. That a man was living completely off of the hard work of people with similar views to myself was telling me that my efforts were worthless was a bit much. The hypocrisy of that man! The jadedness of him! To be living in such total selfishness that he was subsisting completely off the generosity of others, a total drain on the time and energy of more worthwhile persons. What was his message? That everyone in the world was selfish and that one day I would realize that, give up and be selfish too. First of all, if everyone was a selfish as he claimed he would be dead or would have had to survive on his own (there, I suppose, is the fault in the system). Secondly, not everyone on his end is as selfish and lazy and afraid as he is; some of them want to live their own independent lives and just need assistance getting to that point.
Heh. What he didn't realize is that I am a selfish person. Extraordinarily so. I wouldn't help people if I didn't like to doing it. I wouldn't help people if I didn't get that warm and fuzzy feeling in my chest. I help people because it makes me feel good. It's an desire very much centered around my own well-being and happiness. I just don't want to help shitheads like him. I'll help people who want to help themselves, thank you very much.
Anyways, it's time for me to catch a few Zs before work - toodles!