June 12th; Pikes Place and Zelda

June 12th marked the second day of my "picture a day" project. After work, I met a friend at Pikes Place Market downtown Seattle and while I was waiting, I sat in this area of the market where I had never been before. It jetted out the back facing the Puget Sound, the ferries, and the Alaskan Way Viaduct. Usually when I am by myself in a crowded area I feel somewhat oblivious, however, this evening, I remember I was reflective and aware of my surroundings. 

I was sweating awkwardly. Names were carved into the wooden countertop and there was a small family sitting behind me eating dinner together. I didn't even have a revolutionary thought or a moving experience, I just remember "being." It could have been because I had just finished seven hours of data entry, but it was almost refreshing being amongst quite a lot of people with no obligation or agenda.

About 10 minutes earlier however, you would have noticed I was at a booth, money in hand, picking out my dad's father's day gift. The woman was about to clean up her booth after a long day, but still was warm and eager to explain her product. "Pick any of these out," she told me. I stood there contemplating. She told me they were able to go in the dishwasher and gave me a book giving directions to play "hot cross buns". I chose the bigger of the four and looked at the picture behind the display. Yes, I was buying an Ocarina. Have you heard of Zelda? Well, it's a video game and Zelda plays this eerie sounding flute to open doors, to distract a freaky enemy, or just for his (or is Zelda a girl?) own enjoyment. My dad has beaten the game (about 10 years ago) and for his reward, we felt he deserved an Ocarina of his own. 

Single-icious

I cry at any wedding I go to. It doesn't matter how close I am to the bride or groom, or if I am considered "un-romantic" by some. I simply have a hard time holding it together. I don't know if the salty flood from the ducts correspond to the friendship I have with the bride or if i'm imagining my own wedding someday. If it's the latter, they're probably tears of hyperventilation. 

I attended and participated in a close friends' wedding recently. I'm being discreet because of what i am about to say next. I've had it with Beyonce's "Single Ladies" song during the bouquet toss. "All the single ladies, gather 'round for the bouquet toss," is what the DJ usually says, when really he or she is thinking "gather 'round so everyone knows who the Singles are and can feel sorry for you." Now, the girls with the boy friends that step out on the floor for the bouquet toss are really just thinking they're being nice in accompanying you out there because in their minds, they aren't single. They just act like they don't want to be engaged or married yet. 

But the clincher is the misuse of Beyonce's song. It's one of my favorites, but only when used to feel empowered because of your relationship status, and to make those who are still, newly, or always single feel "Bootylicious" 

Now i was feeling "something-licious" myself at this wedding. That is until i noticed the vultures circling the nice guys and girls who were obviously Single. I say obvious because they, actually we, inevitably are grabbing a piece of cake, or since i don't like cake (although sometimes i eat it because it looks good, but i always regret that because i honestly just don't like cake) i eat the alternative dessert. This is a defense mechanism in order to look alive while the vultures are hovering. 

Well, unfortunately, i must have been helplessly standing in line for a drink when the matchmakers simultaneously pull me and this unassuming guy towards each other and force us to meet. I have no idea if he knows what this "meeting" is...although who wouldn't? we were practically handcuffed together. I quickly rummage through my what-to-talk-about-when-really-you-just-want-to-get-out-of-there box and come up with a decent conversation. Our relationship lasts about six minutes and finally we are both Singles again.

The dinner part of the reception begins and the bridesmaids and groomsmen are corralled to the door for our big entrance. I vowed at another wedding this summer that I would never dance into a reception. Well joke's on me, because my escort, who has a strong resemblance to Mr. Bean, were next in line to "get jiggy wit it" behind our fellow men and maids, and make a bit of a fool of ourselves. I try to block out what dance i did...although i can still hear the LACK of cheering as I danced the corners (thank you Christine Arruda). 

Well this message is for fellow Singles. PUSH THROUGH! Seriously, enjoy the time you have with no major obligations, you can be selfish still and blame it on being single, you can hang out with guys and girls, even though i don't really believe in platonic relationships (still working through that one) You can make your own schedule. 

 You will regret the time you had wasted dwelling on what society says is lame, the Singles.  "Better move, cause we've arrived, Lookin' sexy, lookin' fly, Baddest chick, chick inside, I just don't think you are ready for this jelly." Are you ready for this? 

So it begins...

It’s between flower pressing and collage making. If I’ve ever felt more like a home-schooler, it’s now. I’ve been sitting here, in my office-made-room on my futon-mattress-on-the-floor-made bed, racking my brain for hobbies to take up this summer. As a recent college graduate, I don’t know if this is what I imagined life after my last finals would be. Those who either have a job or just feel like they’re in a better professional position than you have been telling us “this is the worst time to be graduating college,” and “good luck finding a job in this economy.” Well thank you very much everyone. I mean, we didn’t pick to graduate in 2009, but they’re all acting like we got to choose whatever year we wanted or something. Like we guessed the wrong door and ended up with the bad economy. 

Well now it’s time to make the most of my situation. Hence, flower pressing or collage making. I’ve already embarked on the take a picture a day for a year project. But, like my friends reminded me, that takes like two seconds to do each day. So another option could be to try out for Joseph’s Technicolor Dream Coat production. I’ll probably keep on looking.

            I work in downtown Seattle. I take the bus, which is probably the highlight of my day, when I get to pretend like I’m an adult, and go to work for a city councilman. I’m not really into politics, if anyone is really into them. But I’ve already learned quite a lot of important and relevant information. For example, I know what percentage of tax dollars goes into which fund and I now know the difference between the police and the sheriff. While this is all interesting, I’m still deciding whether or not I’m cut out to work from nine to five every day. Although my dad recently reminded me that when I’m a mom I have to work twenty four hours a day seven days a week, so I’d better enjoy my time working nine to five while I can. So I will. Thanks dad.

            I work with a few women. Maybel*, who sounds like she should be 72, but she’s really 32. Some say she's a bulldog wearing lipstick. But I just say she can make grown men cry but at the same time is a "mother bear" to her girls at work. Christy*, 25, who is that driven communications director who moves a million miles an hour making your brain work a few steps ahead. She could also pass as a J.Crew model. And then there's Janie*, the other intern. Now Janie is probably 100 lbs, sponsored by Cute Clothes Every Day, and makes me feel like a manatee. She doesn’t mean to, she’s a really nice girl. In fact, we’ve become really good friends this summer since we see each other every day. But that doesn’t cancel out the fact that all the guys in the office seem to find ways to talk to her and joke around while I’m sitting at my desk, making labels, thinking of how I relate to Marla Hooch. The only satisfaction I get through the day is knowing I could break her legs if I tapped her and that I’m fearfully and wonderfully made.

After work, my routine is shedding the business casual clothes, which isn’t me anyways, and quickly get into my so-called uniform: a dirty but arguably comfortable Boston Celtics t-shirt that I got for five dollars at Modell’s, and big comfy shorts that my mom wants to throw away. Come to think of it, my mom wants to throw away most of my clothes. I try to remind her while we’re playing tug of war with a not-so-white tank top that this is just my style and I’ll buy another one and then I’ll throw it away.

            My attitude right now? It’s good. Better than I thought it would be considering the lack of friends and the fact that both my sisters go on dates quite a bit, leaving me to scrounge around the kitchen for something to eat because I have negative money in my bank account. But you know what I decided today? I’m excited to be single. Seriously. Sure, it’d be nice to be liked by a guy or to hug someone once in awhile, but I honestly get excited thinking about what’s going to happen next in my life. That’s why I’ve decided to take a picture a day for a year. I have absolutely no idea where I’m heading and I don’t want to forget how I get there along the way.