Halloween clubbin'

More random musings from when I worked at Level B...around Halloween.

We have a lumberjack in the house...make that two, a turkey and a Canadian. This is a start of a beautiful joke. Especially now that they've gotten onto the stage and are shaking their tail feathers and axes. Oh boy...

And there's an angel and a nerd...It's kind of a sausage fest again.

There goes a lumberjack/Canadian train.

Two cats and a hippie...woah, leather pants alert!

Angel, don't touch the lights. You're not hot enough to transcend the rules of the club.

The nerd is actually a 90s guy.

Yeah, Angel, there's a fucking scary decoration next to me. Her name is Donna. If you can't stop being a skanky ho, she'll end up in your room one night. Alive. And pissed because you just crept up, called her the freakiest thing you've seen and then moved her so she wasn't looking you in the face. I trust her vengeance will be sweet.

It just got really cold all of a sudden.

Bitches think you can walk in here, throw me your jackets without so much as a thank you and not even pay? No fucking way. Not in my house.

Now there's a pirate, two open shirted cowboys and a fairy?

Woah, we've got some making out going on on the dance floor, and a lumberjack can-can line. 

Everyone keeps getting freaked out when they look over here and see Donna, poor thing. Tiffany said everything in here can be animated as well...kill me now. 

If I'm nice to Donna, she won't kill me when she comes to life...I hope. I smoothed back her hair and fixed it for her.

Strolling down Canal Street

Ah, Canal Street. How I have missed your sidewalk street vendors and glorious buns. Looking into the bustling crowd here feels like looking into a distorted and shifting mirror. Besides the minority of tourists, it is mainly a sea of black hair, dark brown eyes, and small frames. I love the feeling of blending in. It makes me feel mildly invincible that no one could pick me out here; that I can easily slip right into the crowd and not be followed.

Can I though, really? Looking at the crowd here, I find the more than slightly-worn clothing, the sweats, the bowed heads and plastic smiles. I stand tall and proud of who and what I am, in my mildly fashionable clothes and Urban Outfitters bag. With my slight smirk and chin held high, I really doubt I could be mistaken unless I deliberately changed me demeanor...which I would anyways.

Walking this way up Canal Street, I can feel the class divide easily. Despite barely making ends meet and having only the little extra for trips like this, I know I am steps above the people here. Whereas the authorities would question why I was in a sketchy part of town, they would question why the street vendors were in the U.S. And how is that right?

A weeknight at Moonie's

I wrote the following while working as the coat check girl at Level B last fall! There are several more that I'll upload later. The random bits calling out and judging people are just observations I had while working.

Written 10/26/2012

I recently had my first real drunken Tuesday night last week. It was the Tuesday before Fall Break. My classmates had backed out of the Multimedia Journalism Workshop drinking game I desperately wanted to play the next day, so we decided to try our hand at Moonie's Trivia Night. We were four journalism majors with various minors and knowledge pools - how could we go wrong? It started with the first fishbowl...it was blue, I think. Norah decided we needed to drink for the whole refrain of some song, so we did. Fifteen long seconds of nearly freezing cold alcohol. Now only was I on my way to inebriation, I was on my way to brain freeze. Awesome.

For those of you who don't know what a fishbowl is, let me break it down for you: Imagine for me, if you please, a plastic fishbowl, roughly a foot tall similar to the one you might have had as a child.

...slow jams? Really DJ? It's only 12:45am.

Anyways. Imagine the fishbowl you used to keep Gary the goldfish in with all the pretty stones and maybe a little old school diver. Now replace the stones with ice, and the gross bowl water with a mixture of some blue jungle juice, a pint of vodka, a little soda, and a little blue curaçao to top it off. Add a fuck-ton of brightly colored long straws and you have the drink of the night. Oh, replace Gary and the scuba diver with sour gummy worms.

This was the first time I had ever drank and fishbowl. Shared between three of us.

A tribute to one year ago with you

One year ago, I was in love with a boy named Zach. This is a list I wrote at the beginning of this year, which was the ending of us. I found it as I was going through my old things as I prepare to move on with life and with someone new.

Things I loved about you:

• That you always asked "When can I see you again?"
• That you walk me to the door or home
• That you are silly with me; belly monster, Fort Sach, etc.
• That the first time I met you was through your friend
• That when I came over for the first time, you were playing Mario Party with your roommates 
• That you were cleaning your wall due to your candle dirtying it

An ordinary evening

The camera pans up a modern apartment complex in Seattle. Pans up onto an outdoor balcony of the tenth floor apartment. Pans up a girl, something of a woman, who stands with her arms bent on the railing, gazing out at the lights from across the Puget Sound. Her profile is darkened by shadows, as the light from inside spills out around her. Her hair is caught by a light breeze passing by, but her expression is neutral. 

I stood at the rail of the balcony, looking out over the water. The night was warm, the apartment even more so, but the breeze caused a slight chill.

He came up behind and wrapped his arms around me, comforting me, lending me some of his warmth. After a few minutes, he started kissing from one of my bare shoulders to the other and back slowly, letting his lips linger after each kiss.

I turned around, still in his arms, so we were facing, and put my hands against his chest. We kissed and as we looking into each other's eyes, I knew something was on his mind.

No more.

Summer 2012 goals!

So these are a little late, considering July is almost half over.  However, since summer doesn't really start until July 4th here in Seattle, I think they are totally reasonable :)

Summertime and the livin's easy...NOT.

As the rush comes...

It's a common theme that I never keep up with my blogging. And that "so many things have happened!" But it's all true. Here's some of what I wrote in my notebook months ago...

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So this whole blogging initiative has not gone so well. I attribute it to not having a lot of time outside of work to sit and write something - which becomes much harder when I am supposed to be ridiculously creative at work.


Or maybe I just haven't figured out how to balance having a life and having a job? I think it's a definite factor.


Needless to say, things have changed a lot since I last really updated this (understatement of the year).


Short recap: I am employed. I have been offered an internship. I broke up with my last college boyfriend. I have dabbled with "grown-up" dating. The Doritos Taco had a wider release in America (but I heard it's not so good). The Hunger Games movie released and it was fantastic. I got blackout drunk on my first St. Pat's Day - during which I was kicked out of a bar, fell off of a friend who was giving me a piggyback ride and yelled at a douchebag - none of which I remember. I've judged photo contests. I had an interview go mildly popular on the Internet.


It has been a busy time.

The One That Got Away

He'll always be "the one I had to let go."

And maybe I'll always be "the one that got away."

Am I supposed to keep hoping?

I feel like I'm in a bad romance movie.

Purple Heart Panda Hat

Written at 8:30a.m., February 28th, 2012 @ McDonald's in Seattle

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The crying girl next to me (can she really be called a girl?) burst out in sobs every few minutes. The bright white flower contrasts with her dark, dark hair and blotchy red face. Shouldn't she be in school? Her black backpack sites next to her, inconspicuous and seemingly unused. Her pink tattered sweats cinched high above the the black sneakers reveal the length of white cotton socks that shields her ankles. The plastic bag underneath the table is filled with food stuffs trash and lays silent by the quarter-full bottle of soda [and hope].

As she calms and unzips her bag, a panda hat with purple hearts bursts free and speaks of her innocence. The dirty and worn clothes that follow tell another tale. With her back turned to all but me, she blunts her pain and hides it from the rest. I cannot help but stare from the corner of my eye, wishing I could utter more than the sigh that inevitably escapes my lips but is lost in the overwhelming surf of society.

I be workin' on my FITNESS

After not having gone to the gym at all last semester (not really), and not really doing much over the holidays (other than eat, eat, eat!), I want to feel healthy and fit. So I'm going to do a 30-day fitness challenge, starting February 1st. I've never really given a lot of thought to my fitness and body, considering my (constantly pointed out) fast metabolism and genes. But those will have to run out one day, and I'd like to have a healthy lifestyle of being active!

What I like about this challenge is that it works more than just your body. There are five challenges for each day: Active, Exercise, Flexibility, Nutrition, and Mind/Body.


And don't tell me Asians always look young. Because they don't. I believe Asian women have a date where they will just turn old-looking one day. This isn't a vanity or pride issue...it just is.

One day, I'll go from looking like this:

Ah, sunny Ithaca days.

To this:

Oh yeah. That's hot.

All overnight. Maybe over two nights, you never know - the metamorphoses could take a smidgen longer.

Well...

I don't know what to do.

At first, I thought I was completely ready to be done with school. That I wanted the freedom and was ready to tackle on something with my life other than studies.

Now that I'm here, I have no idea what I'm doing, where I am going, why I'm doing this, and several regrets.

The regrets are the worst, really.

Figuring out this whole "growing up" phase of my life doesn't sit well with me.

Let's try this again...

So, obviously, my last year's "New Year's Resolution" did not go so well. Let's recap what went wrong here...


According to my New Year, New Times blog post from Friday, January 7th 2011 (almost exactly a year from today!): "This year, I intend to create something at least once a week. I'm leaving myself a lot of leeway in the this resolution, considering how every year before this, the number of kept resolutions stands at a solid zero. Perhaps with this blog, I'll feel obligated enough to make myself better through the projects I create.  Plus I don't really like Twitter or tumblr so this seemed the most viable option."

Yeaaaaah. So, maybe that didn't go so well. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I didn't do something creative at least once a week, but I just didn't really keep track of it. And I wanted some kind of log to see the progression of things that I have done.