Friday, October 30, 2009

The Adventures of a Silly Girl in a Room Full of Men...

Since that first day of walking into Gracie Barra Jiu-Jitsu, which was only five short days ago, a lot has developed.
Before, I watched timidly from the sidelines, enamored with the sport and the skill of the men and women who did it.
Now, I am able to walk into the room, receive warm smiles and handshakes from all the men whose names I accidentally forget, and have a go at it myself.
It already feels like the third branch of my Seattle family. I can't thank God enough for bringing me to such amazing people. A little love and respect goes a lot farther than I previously imagined it could.

I am amazed at what rolling around on a mat with a bunch of dudes can do for my physical and mental state.

I arrived to class yesterday completely stressed out and teetering on the verge of depression. I had had my interview with QFC and the situation was the same as last time; show up, sit in a line of equally nervous candidates, try hard to ignore one another as the thickness of competition in the air killed any urge for conversation, and wait to be called up those stairs to that table. The woman who called me back for my second interview told me that I should bring my social security card, just in case I passed the second interview. If I did, I would move on to a third and meet with the store manager, then take a drug test, and if they liked me, I would be hired. Having had this information when I went to the interview, I was a little distraught after being told they "would call me in a couple days". I left the building flustered and wanting to collapse on the sidewalk like a small child refusing to go to day care.

I just want to work!

Thankfully, I had an appointment with a photographer who has employed my limited services to construct a website of sorts and upload her photos to it. She's paying me twenty dollars an hour to what? To upload photos. Yes. So yesterday I did make a little money. Two hundred and fifty dollars for a good twelve and a half hours of work.
For once, getting stuck in traffic was a good thing. I had nowhere to be for the next three hours, and so while stuck in the terrible Microsoft traffic on the 520, blasted Meshuggah from my little truck's speakers for all my neighbors to enjoy. Frankly, I didn't care if they didn't like it. I did.

Still feeling hopeless and completely discouraged, I folded up my gi and headed to class.

Aaaaah, what better way to spend the next two and a half hours than putting men in armbars and getting choked? Its surprisingly more fun and less S&M than you'd think.

I have recovered (mostly) from the mental chaos of yesterday, and once again push forward in my search for a job. In about an hour, I have yet another interview with the manager of Tully's Coffee for a possible part-time position.

God willing, this is it.

Monday, October 26, 2009


So after a brief trip to Irrationaland, I am back; returned from a swirling, melodramatic performance of panic.
I have removed the magnifying coke-bottle glasses of absurdity and returned to a balanced is natural for us Libras.

...take a deep breath, close my eyes, relax my shoulders and let my arms fall limp to my sides. Oh, how easy it is to deprogram after a day of stressful dealings. It will never cease to amaze me how five minutes of solitude can heal the wounds of a busy soul.

Today was my first day of work with the professional photographer. We met at my cousin's house, as she is the mutual friend, and began laying out a plan for her website. Thank goodness my cousin was there, because if there is one thing I cannot do, it is plan. For most of our meeting I sat between the two, swiveling my head from right to left as they talked over me. On occasion I was consulted for input, and, of course, taken completely by surprise, could not manage to utter anything that didn't begin with "uuuummm...yes."
However, things are now well on their way and I am free for the next three days to do my work without social interaction. Yay!

Once the meeting was finished, I sat on the floor with my cousin and her husband and talked about rugs. For about an hour. Along with being continually amazed at the resilience of the human spirit, I am also amazed by the time I spend at my cousin's house talking about things like rugs. Who knew rugs were so complex? Or that I cared so much about them?

When I returned to the domicile it was a mad dash to get my resume, application, and cover letter ready in time to catch the manager at Tully's.
Once again, Panic and Indecision teamed up and did a marvelous job running around inside my skull, shouting completely ridiculous, confusing things.

"Crap! This application is like seven pages long? Do you think he'll even read it? I mean, it is the application after all, so he kinda has to read it...but what if he doesn't? Maybe he'll get bored half way through the application for his own store and then there will be no hope for me! But it was the only thing I could do! I mean, I wasn't going to fill out this application and just let it float around in cyberspace for all eternity!
Maybe he won't get to the back of the packet...which would suck, because that's where my resume is. And that's the most important part!
Okay...I signed the cover letter...
Now how do I keep everything together in one neat, tidy bundle?
I don't have clips.
Okay, no clips.
One staple or two staples? Are staples unprofessional? Great Odin's Raven this is ridiculous!"

And thus Panic and Indecision ran rampant through the tunnels of my brain, screaming and waving their arms like wild crazed men.
Yet, in some strange way, the chaos they created inward manifested itself outward as increased productivity.
Figure that one out.

Panic + Indecision = Increased Productivity

Doesn't make sense to me either.

So the application is in. I need to stop by tomorrow to ask Scott if he read that accursed book, and hope that he remembers my face when I introduce myself.
And then proceed to bug the crap out of him for every day after that.

My eyes are upturned on this one.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

A Trip to Irrationalland...

If there has at all been a day when I have felt completely hopeless here in Seattle, this is it...
In spite of my efforts to ignore my reality, it still manages to grind away at me. There is nothing short of a miracle that will get me the money I need to make rent. Unless I miraculously get a job that pays $10/hr and I work at least 28 hours in the coming week, I will not be able to pay my rent.
And my roommate will be pissed.
And I will look like an ars.
And the feeling of failure that is ever present in my life will once again have reason to mock me.

Things sounds so great. Really, I have nothing to complain about. My God is gracious, and provides me with so much. Only...I find it hard to trust Him with finding me a job. I want nothing more than to just say, "Here you go, Big Guy. I know you'll find me work." and then really believe the words coming out of my mouth. But sadly...its a lot harder to say it and mean it. Especially when the future of whether or not I have a place to live is in jeopardy.

Its discouraging when everywhere I go, I am just a little too late.
If I could recount every excuse for why businesses aren't hiring that I have heard in the last few weeks, I would have nearly a full page of BS.

I am almost to the point of begging. Getting down on my knees and begging for a job, any job...because, for as little self esteem as I have, I know that I could do a job well, I know that I would be a good addition to someone's pay roll.

If only they would hire me. Give me a chance.

Hopefully tomorrow Steve will call me with good news. Maybe Parsons is right...maybe Steve can become the first member of my "special sphere of influence", as I have dubbed it.

Or maybe not. Maybe the next thing you'll hear of me is that I'm going to a homeless shelter and will be eating my next meal out of the garbage. Maybe you won't hear anything because I'm selling my computer for the rent money.

Or maybe I'm just a little too melodramatic and need to calm down.

A Visit to BJJ Heaven...

Its close to one o'clock in the morning and I'm sitting at my computer, waiting for my roommate, who has the only key to the laundry room, to get home so I can wash my massive heap of laundry.
I've never found it so hard to waste time on the internet. No one ever has a problem figuring out how to kill time with the internet. But, the one time I actually want to go to bed before three in the morning, my roommate is nowhere to be found and I'm having trouble finding ways to do nothing.
In hopes that I might get something important done, I click open another tab on Firefox and type in the url to my new found love:
I need to send an email to Micah, the man who runs Ballard BJJ.
Hello Micah,

I was walking down NW Market St. the other day on my way to the grocery store, and out of the corner of my eye I caught a sign that said something about "BJJ" on it. Over the last couple of years I have become a rather large enthusiast of the UFC and so the term BJJ was not unfamiliar to me.
I recently (as in under a month ago) moved to Seattle/Ballard and one of my primary goals has been to find an MMA gym to train at or to at least somehow get involved with the martial arts.
I did a double-take at the sign, surprised that someone was teaching Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu in Ballard. In all my research of the area, it hadn't come up. Looking around, I tried to figure out what building it was on the second floor of (not yet knowing what the Firehouse was), but couldn't seem to locate anything. I went home, Googled Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu in Ballard, and was discouraged by what I can now say was misleading information. I thought the place had closed, and so I thought the sign had been misplaced.
However, upon further investigation, I found your website and figured, "they must not be closed if they have such a well-maintained website..."
I stopped by today around 1:30p.m. today to see if anyone could answer my questions and/or show me around the facility. But no one was around.

In short, I wanted to see if there was a good time for me to come by and visit/find out some more about what you offer.

I look forward to hearing back from you,

This ridiculous and unnecessarily long-winded email was what my night time delirium produced. I felt like apologizing when I spoke with him later.

Now, I had this preconception that when I walked through the door, there would be a front desk with a receptionist who would tell me everything I needed to know.


I pulled open the door to find a room the size of a small one bedroom apartment, the majority of its floorspace taken up by a raised blue gym mat. The rest of the floor (which wasn't much) had a futon/couch combo, some cubbies, a fridge, and a small display case.

At this point, I almost chickened out and left. There were groups of people sparring on the mat right in front of my feet and I felt like a total idiot for even being there. 98% of the humans in the room were male...there were a total of three women, two of whom were new as of that day and weren't even sure if they wanted to join the class. At this point, I'm so horrifically paralyzed by intimidation that I can barely walk through the door and over to the empty part of the floor.
This room is too small for me to go completely unnoticed. My brain sees its chance to strike:
"Its only a matter of time before someone sees me standing stiffly in the corner like an awkward kid at the school dance and introduces themself. Maybe if I just stand farther back in the corner...No, wait, there are people back there too. Dammit. Maybe if I stand closer to the wall...Oh crap, crap, crap! Here comes that one guy! What's his name?! I saw his picture on the website--"

"Hello" An outstretched hand reaches out towards me.

"Hi..." brief silence, not long enough to be considered awkward. Smile. "Rita. I sent you an email yesterday about coming and checking the place out."

"Yes, hi. Micah, nice to meet you."

And we're off! Phew! That wasn't terrible. His short response to my lengthy email had lead me to believe he was either really serious all the time, or was just lazy and didn't want to respond in an equally lengthy post on his Blackberry. Thank goodness my suspicions of the first had been denied.
He offered me a gi, told me I could take off my shoes and get comfortable, and was off to mingle with his students. A very mild man, gentle, and personable.
"I could get along with him."

I immediately begin taking off my shoes, being the barefoot child that I am.

At this point, I can't help but be totally giddy. The atmosphere, the people, the energy...are perfect. Its everything I was looking for in a training facility.

A man speaks from behind me, though I don't know he's speaking to me.

"What's you're name?" I ignore him, not wanting to be pretentious enough to think he's talking to me.

"Excuse m--"

"Me? Rita" I reply, realizing that yes, he is talking to me. He points to his ear, letting me know that he can't hear me. "Duh..." I think, realizing that there is no way he could have heard me whispering my name from ten feet away. I get up and move closer, extending my hand for the handshake.

"Rita," I say again, this time so he can hear.

"Ian. Nice to meet you. Who are you here watching?"

"No one--" he cuts me off before I can explain any more.

"So you aren't here with anyone?"

I laugh. What else am I supposed to do? Who asks that kind of question in the first ten seconds after an introduction?

"No, I'm not--" Cut off. Again.

"So what brings you here, then?"

Finally. A chance to answer," I'm actually interested in starting training here, so I figured I would come by and check the place out."

A little bit more useless chit chat, and I learn some interesting things about the place.
Several others come over and introduce themselves, are introduced by others, and by the end of my first ten minutes in the room, I've met almost half the people in it. And they're all amazing!

Several minutes later, everyone is doing warm ups and Ian is teaching the two new girls how to go from side control to a full mount. I had no idea Ian was an instructor.
I'm fascinated by the techniques he is teaching the two women, fascinated by how quickly  they learn, fascinated by the whole thing.

I'm completely sold.

As soon as I can find a job, I'm paying my $65 a month for unlimited training at Ballard BJJ.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

An Interview with Incompetence

It didn't hit me just how incapable I am until I was sitting in the waiting area, reading a list of dress code materials, and unwrapping my pen  from a plastic shell like a straw.
There were three cheap, black fold-out chairs lined against the wall. Me and another man sat on the ends, ignoring each other entirely, both pretending to be deeply engrossed in the lame, official packet we had been handed; essentially a list of things I wasn't allowed to do.

My heart sank a little.

I had somehow imagined that applying for this job, getting this job, and working at this job would be more fun than this. Ha. The longer I sat in that chair, the harder it was to maintain my delusions.

Dress Code:
No jeans
No shirts exposing mid-riff or deep necklines
"Cleavage? Check. Dammit..."
No frayed or worn out clothing
"Frayed Xenophobes patch chillin' dead center on my right leg. Dammit..." 
No colored or printed undergarments that would show through a white piece of clothing. 
"Oh, if they could only SEE the underwear I chose to wear today. Lime. Green. Lacies. Dammit..." 
No extreme stretching of ear piercings...
"Crap! What do they define "extreme" as?"
...Up to 5/8"
"Rita- 1, QFC- 4"

Sitting cross-legged, cold and nervous, I couldn't help but think things weren't going to go very well. Men in crisp suits were sitting next to me, briefcases perched officially by their chairs, polished shoes laughing at my well-loved Converse.
Of course, my mind didn't have time between irrational thoughts to calm me down and prepare me for the coming interview.
"Should I button up one more button on my shirt? I can't do that...if I do that in plain sight, everyone will know why I'm doing it. Then it will be obvious that I'm completely unprepared. And if they see I'm completely unprepared, there's no way I'll land a job...and my socks! I can't hide these bright green knee-high tube socks I'm wearing under my Converse. Bad choice...bad choice. Why did I choose these socks? I can't hide my Xenophobes path either. Crap! Those people at the table who handed me this paper must think I'm a complete twit..." 
Well done, brain. You've managed to turn a manageable thing into something unsurvivable.

Finally, the woman comes down to get me. We head up a small set of stairs into a room with three other tables, spread out, where various men are interviewing, their ridiculous black business socks the only thing I can focus on. The room feels like its falling over. Even my interviewer can't help but comment on the lopsidedness of the floor. "Awesome. Interviews with permanent vertigo," she jokes. I laugh.

First question.

"So what made you want to apply to QFC?"
Thankfully, We The People has trained me for this. Answer quickly, even if you're talking out your ars. Sound confident, they'll believe you even if you're wrong.

Meanwhile, my brain is backseat driving, "What the hell?! Why weren't you prepared for this question? You should have at least prepared SOME kind of answer while you were sitting at home eating toast. This question was inevitable. You're retarded..."

Round Two.

"Give an example of some time that you gave outstanding customer service."
Of course, the first example I come up with is the coffee example. That example sucks. The words coming out of my mouth sounded okay in all reality, but my ears are hearing them as, "One time, I made coffee for a lady, and the lady was like "this is better than Starbucks!" and she was happy and stuff." Oh, good job. Its your command of the English language that impresses me most, really.
Worst. Example. Ever.
Thankfully, I recovered from this one with a fantastic example of fixing a woman's messed up membership at the athletic club. I think she liked that one.

Curve ball.

"What qualities do you possess that would separate you from the other candidates?"
"Well, ma'am, if you have to know, I'm completely unqualified in any way, shape, or form and would in no way be a benefit to your establishment. In fact, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take a moment to bash my head into the nearest wall and answer the rest of these questions when I recover from temporary comatose."
"I am incredibly flexible, enjoy working with people (LIE), and am always willing to do whatever my co-workers or customers require of me to ensure the best possible experience and work environment. I am personable, friendly, and really love putting in the extra effort to help others."
Please kill me now.

Somewhere around four more questions that I don't remember, another section to read in some job description booklet, a lecture on the six month learning curve for night crew, and eventually being told they would look to get me into a Starbucks. And that full time as a Checker was really hard to get. 
Stand up.
Shake her hand.
Thanked for my time.


And yet, somehow, I'm still actually hoping they contact me within the next week for a position. Ha.

Regardless. I can finally go check out the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu place down the street and make a fool of myself there, too.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Brain Exiting Skull...

Ugh, I'm not gonna lie, my brain feels like its going to fall out of my skull right now. Waking up at 10:45 this morning was the hardest thing I've done in the last month. Remind me not to come home at one o'clock in the morning and make "dinner" for myself. Bad idea.
But after hitting snooze six times, I'm finally up, still yawning, and ready to go to lunch. Need a glass of water. Need to do my hair. Need to "put my face on" as the good friend who called me five minutes ago said. Need to put the icing on the, literally. I really do need to ice a cake.

But pardon me. I'm distracted.
Over the last few days, I had several ideas to blog about, but none of them came to fruition. One of them involved sidewalk chalk. The other involved the run I took at 2:30 in the morning two days ago. Sadly, I cannot write about sidewalk chalk because I have not yet been able to find any. Apparently Seattle doesn't need sidewalk chalk. Which is crap. And I simply just haven't gotten around to writing about the run yet...which will happen in the next few days, I guarantee it. Not that its of any great consequence to you.

So I'll shut up now.
Enjoy the rest of your day everyone.
You'll most likely be bothered by me again this evening.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Ready...Set...Sleep In

Sometimes there is so much to write about that I never actually get around to writing anything at all. And sometimes it just takes reading another person's blog to get back into the swing of things.

Again, I woke up at noon. In some ways, its a very disappointing way to start the day; getting out of bed with the knowledge that half my day is already gone and the rest of the world has been awake for hours. When I went to Starbucks and the woman behind the counter said, "Enjoy the rest of your evening," I was more than a little confused. Until I remembered that my "long day" had consisted of only four hours up to that point."
After pounding the pavement, this time in the rain, and returning photo-copied applications to every Starbucks I could find, I made an impulse stop at the Jo-Ann Fabric Store. A wonderful little lady behind the counter informed me that they were looking to fill four positions. Fantastic. Maybe I will work fifty feet away from my apartment in a fabric store.
I somehow ended up driving to Target after I braved the grueling trek back to my abode. Let me just say I have never been in a more confusing Target in all my life. I walked around like an idiot with an empty, red, ergonomic basket for maybe a half hour before I found the printer paper which turned up on the second floor, not the first. One feat down, three more to go. Now...where is the women's hygiene isle? All of a sudden, looking for razors didn't sound so appealing anymore. Again, I ended up doing laps around the upper floor looking for something that shouldn't have been that hard to find. Of course, when I finally found my prize, I didn't do take the logical path, which would have been to pick up a package of my usual brand, throw it in the basket, move on to objective #3; no. I had to stop, peruse the options, weigh the pros and cons of switching to something new. for razors should not be this difficult. Just like finding them shouldn't be difficult.
My last feat was to find a receptacle for my clothes...all my clothes are currently living in cardboard boxes in the corner of my unfurnished room. So I found this absurdly heavy shelf apparatus that I would have to put together myself to store my clothes in. I had not anticipated leaving Target with such a heavy item, so I hadn't bothered to park my car anywhere near my current location. Great. No problem.
Putting the thing together has been like a bad episode of Tool Time...but its finally built. Well, mostly. I was hammering an innumerable amount of nails into the back of the thing when I realized the tenants who live above me probably hate me. Hammering nails at 12:30 a.m. doesn't make friends.

All in all, it was a rather mundane day, aside from feeling like I may have accomplished a few things I wanted/needed to do. And sending an email to a good friend.

This blog was supposed to be a great deal more serious, as it usually is, but alas, my roommate insists on making me laugh, so tonight's post is rather lighthearted.

Monday, October 12, 2009

The World Cries Loudest In the Morning...

What bliss it is to be able to sit with a cup of freshly brewed tea and write about the glories of the world.

There is seldom a prettier sight than the first echoes of light singing into the sky to announce the coming of the sun. It happens not once or twice a year, but every morning of every day this world will ever know. I pity the man who has never risen early enough to breath the sun as it clips the mountain tops and saturates the air.
And it is during this time, when the sun is making its first appearance for the day, that the world cries the loudest. It is during this time of peace and solitude when everything has yet to rise that the world sings its sweet melodies. What better time to appreciate the stillness than now? What better time to grasp the purity of this fragile new-born day? It is during this time that one's breathing, movement, and thought process reduce their speed until they match the tempo of the rising planet.
And so begins a day.
But it is at that time of day when all is alive, all is awake, and all is busy, that the voice of life is most absent...not absent, but inaudible. In the background, behind the constant thrum of soles upon the concrete, little messengers cry out to be heard. They appear as things unseen until we take the time to stop, breathe, and slow our souls to match their heartbeat. A moment such as this never goes unrewarded. It is as if the small majesties of life can feel the synchronization of the human heart to their own, and upon making the connection, jump at the opportunity to make themselves apparent to the individual who has stepped into their world. Often times such an event occurs involuntarily, when one slips into a state of brief contentment or stillness without being aware of the transition. And it is at these times when a small smile will grace their lips, and they will, even if only for one brief moment, remember the purity of life.
For as dirty as this life constantly seems amidst the rank attitudes of our fellow humans and the ever present wash of filth, there is still beauty to be found in all the in betweens.

Look for it.
You will find it, I promise.
And when you find it, remind someone else that it exists.
Because they may need it as much as you do.

Profundus Sententia Ex Cunabula

Exit 38 and Jesus...

The days here just keep getting more and more interesting...or perhaps just more and more "different".
I went to sleep at two o'clock in the morning yesterday after a long day of garage sailing in my relatives' relative's house, only to woken at eleven thirty by the sound of my telephone vibrating. I knew I was supposed to hang out with a guy I had met at Stone Gardens, a rock gym here in Seattle, but I didn't really know if I was up to it...of course, as is inevitable, although everyone tries to avoid it, I sounded like I had just woken up when I answered the phone. I got ready and forty five minutes later I was in the car and driving to some place called Exit 38. It was cold as the dickens outside, and I didn't know if my hands were even going to work in this temperature.
But, much to my pleasant surprise, they did. We started with a 5.7 right next to a bridge (the concrete was in), and then moved to a series of 5.9's on another wall a little ways away. Those were by far the most fun. It takes a little time to remember how to feel when climbing outdoors. The atmosphere is so vastly different than that of an indoor gym. Everything is a little bit scarier and you aren't quite as bold. After the first few climbs, it all comes back, though...sadly, the temperature didn't improve, so we called it quits after a lesson in cleaning an anchor and a 5.11 variation of the first route. All in all, twas good fun.
Afterward, we headed back into town and ended up in Wallingford at a little place called Kuan Yin Teahouse. My excitement to be in a teahouse was only magnified by the crispness of the day and my inability to feel my hands. Formosa Green Tea was served (an excellent choice, I might add) and I drank my fill while eating little wedges of cheese bread.

However, the most exciting part of my day was what happened after.
At 7:15 on Sundays, church happens! Mars Hill is a large church, much larger than anything I am used to, but I'm trying to squeeze my way into the Ballard church community. It seems there is an incredibly high volume of college students that attend the service. This makes me a little apprehensive, because it also seems in some ways that college students are the least approachable. For all the credit that modern society gives college students for being more mature and more adult-like than they were in their high school years, they don't seem to have progressed much. The majority of the college students I see are the same immature, egotistical, closed-off, tactless adolescents they were in high school.
Although, this has just been my experience...and I am no one to judge. So I'm giving this a chance, despite my initial apprehensions, and seeing if I can't fit somewhere into this massive colony of people who attend church en vogue. (I mean seriously...showing up in high heels with perfect hair and designer clothes? I thought this was church, not an audition for America's Next Top Model)
But I am too harsh...I need to give it time.

On a more philosophical note (now that the mundane has been recorded), I have begun to notice with increasing discontentment that I am incredibly judgmental. Despite my best efforts to control my thoughts, the seven me's seem to just run rampantly around inside my skull, shouting the most obscenely hypocritical they can come up with. The sad part is, I'm not really that critical. I don't like to be. But recently, I can't seem to look at anyone without my first thought about them being something terribly judgmental.
Save for those people who seem like underdogs.
I still like them.
But anyone who seems like they may in any way, shape, or form be a threat to those whom the "average" person would consider "strange" or "weird", my mind attacks.

This is one of those problems that only prayer and obedience will fix. Jesus can only help me as much as I want to help myself, for I am the keeper of my salvation. While Jesus provides salvation, it is up to me to remember His sacrifice and remain weak enough to need Him. Because every time I feel that I can stand up on my feet without Him, it fails miserably and I end up lying on my face in the sand, stretching my hand out towards Jesus again.
And every time, though I don't deserve it, He finds me, places his arms beneath my own, and picks me up again.

Thank God that He is in control and I am not...I make such bad decisions.

Profundus Sententia Ex Cunabula

Friday, October 9, 2009

Too Early to Be Late...

I took a walk -- my first walk -- around Ballard tonight.
A night walk is so much different than a day walk. Everything is alive in a much more interesting way at night. During the day, people have to be out; they have to be working, and moving, and going places. At night, people go outside largely because they want to. The absurdities of the human race are magnified in such a glorious if when the sun sets, we shed our skins and become whatever manner of beastly creatures we so desire.
Tonight I stayed away from the main drag, NW Market St. Its a Friday, so everyone who worked a long week is out to have "fun" at the bars. I'd rather not deal with that tonight. I'd much rather see and enjoy the smaller gifts of the city that hide on smaller least for just this night.

The buildings were whispering to me, as well. They said, "Come and climb me," and I wanted to. But city people are a different breed than those who populate small towns. Here, there are no ways to reach the tops of buildings, save from the inside. Although I can't blame them for designing the buildings that way...I'm sure that thousands of times before people have climbed to the roofs, and just as many times its been to do something stupid. I merely want to get to the top and...sit.
The tops of tall buildings are such wonderful places to observe the world. Perches where one can step back from the world for a minute and just look at it. I don't know what others see when they look out upon the great masses of people across the earth, but all I can see is beauty. Though we humans are such a plague to the planet, I cannot help but have hope for us. The thought that each being has the potential to be someone great is too much for me to ignore.
And it isn't that everyone has to be Mother Teresa or Gandhi. Everyone can make a genuine difference in even just one other person's life. And that would be enough.
The joy of giving to someone else emotionally is possibly the most fulfilling thing in the world.

When I left the apartment at 9:30 p.m., I had expected an Inclinian level of desertion to await me outside the door. Much to my surprise, there were people all over the place. I recently discovered that there is a park diagonally across the street from me, and so I was going to go sit under the clouded October sky, breath in this frigid air and think about all manner of things...only to find at least six people still in the park. In Incline, this would never have happened. A night walk could go completely undisturbed at any time of the day, as long as one did not approach town. I forget that this is the city, though.
In some ways it is incredibly comforting to see other people walking around at night. Yet at the same time...I wanted in some small way to be alone at the park tonight. As I was returning to base after other trekkings, I read the rules posted at the stays "open" until 11:30 p.m. Sadly, I was too early to be late, and so I continued the extra twenty feet back to my domicile to await the illegal park visitor hours.
Perhaps then I will have the park to myself.
And if not...there is always tomorrow.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Cardinal Sin

Am I committing any kind of cardinal sin by posting twice in the same day? Well, its almost tomorrow anyway...

Life feels very colorful these days. Despite living in what most people call the greyest city in the country, I don't feel its like that at all. Moving out and getting started on my own really doesn't feel as jarring as everyone said it would, either. People asked if I was scared, nervous, excited, all those emotions...but really, all I felt was...normal. I got in my car, drove to Humboldt, spent time with my best friend and met some new people. I drove from Humboldt to Seattle, and showed up at my relatives' house. I woke up the next morning and started looking for places to live. I moved in a couple days ago to this two bedroom apartment, which I share with Jake, who is thus far a fantastic roommate. It feels like I'm on an extended vacation, even though I know I'm not.
I did sit down and think about it yesterday and a small pang of sadness gripped my heart as I realized I would never again be living under my parents roof as a child. And though I am still very young, and would not consider myself an "adult" (nor do I hope to ever hold that title), I can no longer consider myself a dependent. Everything is different now, and I can't even feel it.
That's what happens when you travel a lot as a kid. And I can't say I'm not grateful for this feeling. It would make life infinitely more difficult if I felt home sick or displaced.

On a completely different topic, because I digress, I saw one of the most beautiful things I've seen in a while just a few minutes ago. I was washing my hands and picked up the bottle of soap. I squeezed the bottle on accident while it was still upright, and a host of tiny bubbles came bursting out of it. And they just hovered there, all these different sized little bubbles, happily bouncing around in the air. It made me really genuinely happy for some reason. Here I thought I was looking at and admiring the small works of God, but even when I think I am focused on the smallest of them all, He shows me yet another that I have missed.
Thank God He's God and I'm not.

Profundus Sententia Ex Cunabula

Dear Blog...

Today feels like one of those days when I must address my blog as though it were a person. If it were in fact human, it would be a man. And his name would be Jerry. I'm not incredibly fond of the name Jerry...but it really doesn't matter does it?

I started my day at noon. I had intended to wake up at nine-thirty and start it then, but alas, sleep was more alluring. And thus I was foiled. In fact, I have been sitting, standing, laying, and rolling around in the apartment for close to three hours and forty minutes, telling myself that I am going to the Kragen Auto Parts store to see if I can get a job.
If I had to draw a pie chart to show the contributing factors to my inactivity, it would be comprised of fifty percent sheer laziness and fifty percent fear of failure. I need a job and I know it. But the silly romantic in me keeps hoping that someone will kick down my door, take the hero stance and shout, "The workforce wants YOU!" And then rational me butts in and shatters my fantasies...but probably for the better.
It is a sad existence when "I know" so much, but am never able to act upon it.

Perhaps if I get out of this room any time in the near future I can go to the store, buy thumbtacks, snacks, and go find a job...maybe.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Another Day In the City...

Its another day in Seattle...the tenth day, to be exact. I'm sitting here in this apartment, hoping that my rental application gets approved. If it doesn't, I'll be loading all these boxes back into my truck and "moving" again. I find myself inevitably stressed out, despite my best efforts not to be...I am amazed at how difficult it has been to find a job. The days pass slowly, as if weighed down by some invisible hand...if nothing else, it gives me more time to think about my inadequacy.
While looking for a job, while eating dinner, while going to church, while being awake, the only thing I can really focus on is trying to find work...but it seems that no one is looking for a high school graduate with minimal work experience. My question still is this: how am I supposed to gain experience when no one is hiring?
But I can't quite say that no one is hiring yet...I haven't looked that hard yet.
Which brings me back to the thoughts of my own inadequacy. I am deeply afraid to go into a store and simply ask if they are hiring; I am afraid that they will all look at me disdainfully and shoot off a bitter, "no," as if the only reason they aren't hiring is because its me and not someone else. I don't see how my meager resume can compete with the others being offered seems less and less likely that I will find anything with each passing day.
And yet, I still have hope. There is a small ball of hope buried deep within my mind's massive darkness. I have prayed, and others are praying for me...and something tells me to keep faith. I still need to look, but I have faith that there is something out there for me.
God willing, I will stay humble and trust in Him to make this happen...

Tuesday, October 6, 2009


To set the stage:
My name is Rita. I have been "blogging" for some time now, without actually realizing it. My "blogs" are posted on various websites, namely FaceBook and MySpace, but are largely present in the paper media. After much deliberation, I have decided to start one of these official blogs and join the ranks of bloggers worldwide.

Wish me luck, I suppose...

Profundus Sententia Ex Cunabula