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.