Door Closed, Window Open.. Check

I don't like the sap who wrote that last post. Re-reading it makes me sound pathetic. Of course I was sad and that's ok. The news sucker-punched me and I was entitled to act accordingly. I'm still processing and letting go of the ideas the Professor led me to believe, the feelings I had.. or thought I had.. I swear I'm not even sure what exactly I felt, though I thought it was love.. or falling.. but it's over so they've stopped growing obviously and in that I found some closure and maybe an ability to finally compartmentalize? I don't know. I'm not crazy broken and I have moments I keep checking in and wondering why I'm pretty much kind of ok.

We met up again the following Sunday after our break up. I had a gift for him before he left for his trip and he mentioned that taking the space was the right thing. The days after had been pretty hard for me to get through, especially the weekend where I just felt listless and depressed and this declaration was the final kick I'd assumed was coming. Confusion and needing space to ‛figure things out' never seems to work in my favor. It didn't hurt any less, but the maybe's going around in my head were killing me. I hate limbo.

He started out with wishy washy feelings and quickly, the angry stage I was in took over and I pushed him to be clearer. Though I know he cared about me and never wanted or intended to hurt me, I figured his confusion was mostly from his guilt. I think I was partially right. I scolded him for being careless with me despite his cautious pace. He said nothing because he knew it was true. You don't ask a girl about her thoughts on children right before you ask her to be your girlfriend unless, of course, you're serious about her, which he'd led me to believe. I think he jumped in and went with feelings he may not have been sure of, but thought at the time it'd be ok because they'd eventually get there. Oops.

I don't want to be settled for. So if he didn't feel it, it was the right decision. We both cried and hugged it out. I reminded him we never had a bad time together. Not once. Maybe being blindsided was best because I never once worried the end was coming though I never took any of our moments together for granted either. I really didn't. I lived them fully and happily and that's kind of an achievement for me. So what if it was only like two and a half months? That's a pretty good improvement over my usual three weeks or the one before it that was a 10 day instant-relationship-just-add-water disaster. Still, we worked so well, part of me thinks he'll come to realize he made the wrong decision. I don't know. I'm not sure if I care. It's a gut thing. I guess we'll see.

And then Timing did something strange. The same night the Professor asked me to be exclusive, we ran into Boris at the bar where we ended our night. I hadn't seen or talked to him in nearly three years due to him just fading out of my life. Awkward at first, especially with both of us in opposite gender company.. mine clearly more intimate than his, but what we both noticed and discussed later was that our chemistry clearly hadn't faded. Not one iota.

We met a week after that to catch up and resolve the issues that created that big space in our past. It was really positive. I was happy with the Professor and Boris noticed I'd grown and seemed more grounded. I've heard that a few times recently now and felt really proud of that. And the ease we had with each other was like no time had passed, but then we've always been like that. I've never had chemistry with anyone like I've had with Boris where we can both feel the pull when we're on opposite sides of a room. It certainly made being friends and being single difficult back then because why not fall into each other when it was convenient? Surely, we wouldn't repeat that same pattern after all this time.

Yeah.. so, that might've almost happened once the Professor let me go. It was supposed to be just a friendly night, but one really good bottle of wine, some take out thai, a couple blocks for gelato, heaps and heaps of talking, a couple more not so great bottles of wine and remembering just what made the other one laugh in that special way only the other one of us could do. It was comfortable. It lent to some really honest conversation about relationships and not falling into the same pattern as we had before and because I'd just been crushed by someone who'd led me on, I  didn't want to get hurt immediately all over again and he didn't want to be that guy either. I think begrudgingly, we both decided to focus on our friendship.. even if I may have stayed over right after we made that decision because it was a school night and incredibly late with all that talking and wayyy too much wine and we promised to be good except for maybe kissing of course and Holy. Crap. that is one thing I'd forgotten about us and actually, it was nice to be reminded of that particular thing we were good at.

Surprisingly, maybe that slip into comfortable arms was the boost I needed. I also may have slightly been in the angry stage because I renewed my dating profile online. What's the harm? I'm not dead and honestly, not trying to fill a void, I swear. I put the Professor away and though I'm still clearing out the residual, I really am putting that in another area to work out separately and new focus where none of that baggage exists because like I said, if I'm not right for him, he's not right for me.. so why sit in that and be sad? That's no fucking fun. And I'm fun! AND awesome! And you know what? I met someone pretty damn quickly who agrees with me AND thinks I'm pretty. AND tiny! TINY! I know, right? He's adorable, enigmatic, super sweet and smart, a research scientist at UW and in a somewhat metal-y type band even though his first karaoke go-to song was Suspicious Minds. His second was Motorhead. And he was amazing at both. Like scary good. Also he has crazy lung power. So much he didn't even need the mic to be heard. Not kidding. So. There's that. And the Scientist (from this point heretofore he shall be called) and I never stop talking. In fact, there's so much to talk about we forget what we meant to discuss because there were so many other good tangents we went on in our first two dates (and all our texts and emails in between.. um.. we talk maybe a lot.) Also? The Scientist is a really good kisser. Like.. for reals. So. There's that. I mean, if that's a void I'm filling, then so be it. No one should go without good kisses for long. I think that's a rule.. somewhere.

There have also been plenty of check ins from friends, happy hours, some group cookie making and thus following, group cookie eating because a good heartbreak recovery requires a good amount of chocolate and sugar therapy just as much as a weekend of all-day mimosa-ing.

Retail therapy hasn't hurt either and is much better for my waistline. My favorite thing I bought recently was the cutest little white, distressed-just-so kitchen table that works with my shabby chic style and replaced my Gram's antique formica one that I love but is too big for the space. A steal for $55 at the Fremont Sunday Market where I've found many a treasure.

Tomorrow I leave for a dose of family for the weekend and celebrating my twin cousins' college graduation (wow.. I'm old). Road trips always feel like a catharsis of sorts.. like I'm letting something go.. and this one to Portland will be no different. After family time, Pixie will entertain me Saturday night with her enchanting stories over what I hope to be many drinks while we both purge our recent hurts and I'll be back home Sunday night to be part of our video audition to get into the fire conclave at Burning Man this year. I may not be doing poi now, but I'll be doing fans for sure. Fans! ON FIRE! I can can spin them even! Carnies will want me in their troupes! Or whatever the collective of carnies is. Are. Whatever.

So here I go. Continuing. Hoping. Lighting shit on fire. Knocked down, but certainly not out. Not even close. Still fighting and propelling myself forward with all the bad-ass-ness I can muster, which let me tell you, is  a fuck ton. Oh yes it is. High fives y'all!

Jinxed

I talked a good talk despite my surprise at his confusion that seemed out of no where. I listened when I wasn't posing questions that continued to give me answers I didn't understand. I was calm when I asked if I'd done something wrong, but he said I hadn't. He said it was intuition, but didn't seem confident in trusting that himself and said it was often wrong. He said he wanted fireworks and it didn't seem they were developing. But again, he wasn't sure. He didn't seem to understand much more than I did, but he showed up to tell me what he thought was going on. He was honest even though it was difficult. I respected him for that. But eventually there was nothing I could do but look into his lovely blue eyes and handsome, scruffy face and let him go.

Then I cried. Sobbed actually. Enough to need tissues when he was in front me. So much after he left I think I only slept a few hours and woke up for work with a nagging headache and red, puffy eyes.

He needs some time to think. He has a lot going on - moving out of his apartment, packing for his five-week trip to Germany and he leaves in two weeks. We were going to spend as much time together as that prep allowed before he left since he doesn't come back til the end of July. Add in that two weeks he's still here and the fact we won't be together now and that space is about as long as we've been dating. It's a long time to hold out hope or not know if he's coming back to me or be sad because my experience says he won't. But maybe. I don't know. He promised to let me know as soon as he figures it out - whether that be before he leaves or at some point after he's left. But I can't be with him while he does that. And even that small bit of hope feels like it's just asking for further disappointment.

It sucks. I'm crushed. I know it's only been a short time, but this one felt like it was going to stick. We didn't rush, we had fun together, we worked well, we made sense. I mean we were pretty fucking awesome.. and still. No guarantees. I don't get it. I stamp my foot and yell at the ceiling like a child because it's really not fair.

Wednesday was hard to get through. Friends texted, emailed and sent supportive and loving messages on Facebook in response to my statuses I thought were cryptic and the stupid relationship change I swear I'd hidden from my timeline that spelled things out pretty clearly. Stupid Facebook. And after crying off and on most of the morning, it got a little easier by the end of the day. I had a nap, a shower I found myself hoping would rinse my sad away and didn't, but still felt a little lighter after. I met girlfriends for dinner and then we dashed to make it to the cute gelato place before they closed because gelato is a miracle cure. It is. Do not question the magic of gelato. You'll regret it. And not get any gelato. So. Just don't. Another friend met us there, then another joined at my neighborhood bar where my plan was to get completely shit-faced, but in reality, I hate the spins and I'm a lightweight.. so though I finished the first double one of my favorite bartenders concocted, I barely dented the second. I had to work today. Why kick myself when I'm down by adding a hangover? Don't answer that. I can't even wallow properly. I'm still too stunned.

Though I know this is not about me and purely about the Professor, I'm wounded and finding it hard to smile. But, I just finished the first three episodes of the second season of Downton Abbey and the weekend is filled with friends to provide plenty of hugs, birthday celebrations, a going away party and even a fancy-dress dinner with famous chefs. By Sunday, when there's nothing yet planned, I hope being social and pretending I'm ok translates into actually being true. I just have to keep going and continue the usual recovery stuff - drinking, eating, especially more gelato (seriously.. MAGIC I tell you!), and sleeping.. at least until I don't fit in my clothes or I'm not all achey in the heart anymore, whichever comes first.

Stupid heart anyway. Stupid things that are simply too good to be true. Stupid future I thought I saw. Stupid runny mascara. Stupid Universe that never helps a girl out. Sigh..

Perspective

Eight days ago, a man, who clearly wasn't in his right mind, walked into a local cafe in the University District and shot four people. Two men died immediately. Another woman died later at the hospital. The cook who was shot three times, miraculously survived. One man sitting at the bar with his friends was saved simply because he went to the restroom seconds before the shooting. His friend who took his seat while he was gone wasn't so lucky. Not 30 minutes later, the same shooter car-jacked a woman downtown, a married mother of two, pistol-whipped her, shot her at point-blank range, and ran over her legs after stealing her car while she lay there dying in the parking lot. Two women and a homeless man came to her aid, but could only comfort her in her last moments. As the police surrounded him that afternoon miles away  in West Seattle, he knelt down and shot himself. He died at the hospital that evening. Six days earlier, a father of two was killed just driving through an intersection near my neighborhood by a bullet meant for someone else. His parents and his children were in the car with him.

I've driven by that cafe hundreds of times. I drive through that intersection in my neighborhood at least twice a week. These weren't incidents of 2am gang violence. They were horrific tragedies that took place in broad daylight that suddenly brought perspective to regular people going about our day. The victims could've been anyone and, in fact, they were. And I know ‛regular' people die every day from random stuff like this, but Seattle has seemed relatively safe. The Capitol Hill Massacre almost exactly six years ago would say differently because it feels eerily similar and as horrifically sad as last week's shooting. And this shooting, by all definitions, was a massacre which stunned the city, left us all in shock for a couple of days while we mourned for strangers we didn't know, debated second amendment rights in general as well as for the mentally ill, didn't get any work done because we kept reading the next story about the victims, the people who knew them, and looking at pictures from every memorial service across the city.

Now more than a week later, people are back to living their lives, as well they should. Of course the friends and family of the victims are still grieving. I drove by today and the cafe still looks closed though the flowers and candles have multiplied exponentially. People were standing outside reading the letters to the victims and letters of outrage that cover the windows. It's a sobering sight. And it wouldn't be a proper tragedy if the Westboro Baptist Church wasn't planning to picket at the funeral of the mother of two because they think every negative situation in the world is the fault of homosexuality and because they're simply hateful and disrespectful asshats who Jesus would vehemently reprimand for being lousy human beings if he ever met them in person. But I digress..

You can't constantly live in fear. Nothing is guaranteed - especially life, which death is apart of. You have to keep moving forward as if you'll have another tomorrow, but you should, of course, appreciate today. Live in the moment. Tell those you love that you do indeed love them.. because you never know. Airplanes crash. So do cars. Hell, cannibalism is suddenly a thing. Who knew? And crazy fucking people shoot innocent people all the time. It sucks.. but it happens.

So I'm sure you don't need the reminder, but I'm going to say it anyway. Call your mom and tell her you love her. Just because. Send your grandmother a card. In the mail. Call a friend you haven't seen in a while. Don't text. Forgive someone who slighted you. Because in the big picture, it really doesn't matter.

Reach out. Hold on. Breathe in. Love.

Boyfriended

It's official. I have a boyfriend. I'm boyfriended officially. For realz. Status change on Facebook and everything (though he preferred to keep it off Facebook so I didn't connect him, but still.). The first one in three years (THREE!). This is significant! And good! And there are lots of smiles and all kinds of happy between us. It doesn't suck. No, not at all.

After giving The Professor the room to do whatever he needed to do (think, process, determine I was the more awesomer person he was dating because duh..), he sprung the idea upon me after a lovely evening together of canoodling at a fight show I was stage managing, canoodling at after-show drinks and dessert and canoodling horizontally that's a little more than canoodling if you catch my drift and I think you do. He just looked at me and said, ‟I want  you to be my girlfriend," very matter-of-factly to which I, of course, paused appropriately and then responded with a friendly reminder that there was still one other person involved and that would make being exclusive a bit awkward.. well, for her anyway. He said he'd tried to resolve that by phone that day but they ended up playing phone tag. He promised to address it as quickly as possible though and he did a couple days later. In the meantime, I squeed, giggled, did a little horizontal happy dance right there (let's keep it clean folks.. I was happy) and proceeded to call him Boyfriend every chance I got for the next 24 hours. And adorable as he is, he called me Girlfriend in return. I know.. it's cute. And gross.. but that's ok because I get to be gross. I did mention it's been three years right? THREE YEARS, PEOPLE, OK?!

I'm still surprised that this feels so good. We didn't suffocate each other by spending too much time together. We didn't lose interest because we only spent one day a week together at first. But suddenly there were a couple days a week and then most of a weekend, his birthday, overnights that lasted til the next afternoon, the losing of first names to ‛babe' and ‛sweet girl' (seriously, that one weakens my knees) and even a big chat the weekend before the labels about kids and if I wanted them or not. That was a doozy, but it didn't scare me, clearly didn't scare him since he was the one asking, and it made me think of a possible future I hadn't thought of with anyone in a long time. It felt real.

I'm sure we're at the beginnings of the honeymoon stage, but this weekend the hormones hit again and I've been irritable off and on and still, the man joked around, called me cantankerous while hugging me until I laughed at not being able to wiggle free, and refused to allow me to wallow in negativity. It was nice to have him there for balance and it made me feel very lucky because though I'm happier by the minute, this is so easy and natural and honestly, fun. It doesn't feel crazy honeymoony to me because it feels normal and lovely and kind of everything I want.

We can now talk about future planning.. say travel plans for Burning Man since we're both going, his trip to Germany in June for five weeks without being scared if we're together or not or who he's coming back to, meeting family.. that sort of thing. It's reassuring to know where we stand together.. because we're standing together. I dig that. And though love wasn't mentioned during that first conversation and I haven't had a boyfriend in recent years I didn't have that with before we were exclusive, he knows I'm already pretty close and feels he's headed there too or he wouldn't be in this.

I love that he directed the tempo of us and that I recognized that sitting in just a little bit of caution and making sure it was the right thing and wasn't fleeting could work. I've never had that kind of normalcy in the beginnings of a relationship, where protecting ourselves and being careful with our intentions actually felt romantic.. even if I was a little uncomfortable with the idea. Because now? The payoff is that I feel secure. I'm reassured all the time because I can see this is what he wants, not something I talked him into. I feel spoiled, I feel adored, I feel comfortable. He rarely stops touching me, tells me often how great and beautiful I am, is focused on me when we're in public, and everyone seems to like him.

I'm happy. I'm a girlfriend. And it's pretty fucking wonderful.

Holding A Torch

My seventh blogversary (SEVENTH people!) at the end of April came and went because I was a little wrapped up in reveling in my newly-acquired time to myself after the latest show closed AND on my blogversary eve, I was actually doing this:

Oh those bright orange things on either side of me? That would be fire that I'm spinning. FIRE, people! And although I may be smiling, that's just me hiding the fear of knowing I could possibly go up in flames at any moment. And you know what? I DIDN'T! Unbelievable!

Looking cool with lit poi in your hands is one thing, but working that poi into submission effortlessly is quite another. My limited skills were clear, but it was my first time working with actual fire. I did pretty well considering I only know about four or five tricks and it was really windy and cold that night so that threw me off a little. Still, I did two rounds and was freaking proud of myself. Also? It's super loud. Louder than you'd think, which makes you feel quite badass waving these potentially hazardous and whooshing mini-torches around.

Speaking of holding torches (no, I'm not at all subtle - titles or otherwise today..), I had this thought recently that I was going to screw something up with The Professor, the adorably sexy guy I've been dating since the end of March and who I'm pretty sprung on. Later that particular week, I figured out why I thought that - my hormones went bat-shit crazy. I'd truly like to see chemically what happens to a woman when it's her time of the month because a little drop or increase in specific hormones can almost make her a different person. Sure there's always a well-known penchant for bitchiness - and I do notice little things get to me more during those times - but sometimes the PMS can be mellower or just all happen in one day (which is entertaining to witness I'm sure, but not to experience) and this time, I had this feeling it was going to make me kind of crazy.. and it did.

A few weeks ago, we had ‛the talk' about where we were and what we wanted - or rather mostly where I was  and what I wanted. He was dating one other person and wasn't sure what he was feeling for me at the time, but said it was more than just fun. That reassured me a bit. It'd only been slightly more than a month. I'd stopped seeing the younger guy who was briefly in the picture because he just faded out. Someone else new came and went very quickly because I realized he was a player and I didn't need that. So I just wanted to gauge the potential, if any, for something long-term with The Professor and told him it was getting somewhat difficult to keep my emotional distance as we continued to spend time together. He was kind and thoughtful with his responses but noticeably reserved and though he left me a sweet note the next morning, doubts started to creep in.

That uncontrollable longing came over me, the one I didn't want just yet, and it was exactly when my hormones went awry. This wasn't logical. It was purely emotional - or more specifically, chemical - and I could control it if I wanted to. Except I couldn't. For three loooong days. He could tell I was trying to maintain from my texts, but though he responded with ‛Don't fret sweet girl,' at the end of one of his messages, which should've made me feel better, it wasn't enough. I just had to wait it out and talk to myself, talk to girlfriends, whatever. I limited my texts to limit the crazy and it worked. A few days later, that grey and suffocating cloud lifted, hormones leveled, and logic prevailed once more. I was feeling good where we were. Irrational freak out avoided.

But now, unable to blame any shifting hormones, I've noticed he lingers in my thoughts kind of all day. I'd like to meet his friends (I haven't met any yet, but he's receptive to it), I want to plan things more than just the coming week and weekend with him.. and yeah, I'd like him to decide he only wants to be with me and let this other person go. Duh.

I broached the subject last weekend. It felt like it was time to ask if this was still something he needed, seeing someone else in addition to me, and if so, could he make me more comfortable with the idea. Because I don't give ultimatums. That's not right. He needs to feel free to choose when it's right for him. That doesn't mean he gets an unlimited amount of time either. He knows this. He knows one of us will need to say it's time to be exclusive at some point. And though I'm ready for that, I'm not hitting my wall about it.. yet. I'm simply uncomfortable because the longer we date, the more in it I feel and the more I risk. He understood and assured me he liked me a lot, that seeing multiple people isn't ideal and not what he ultimately wants. He needs room to gauge though - his last two relationships were complicated - and I think it's fair to allow him time to figure out how he feels and what (or who) will work for him. Just because I know he's someone I could fall for doesn't mean he has to know if he can or can't about me yet. Everyone moves at different speeds and he knows this is a big deal to me - our slower pacing - but it's been a good thing, the evolution of it and he thought it'd get him to a place he was really sure of once he figured that out. Made sense to me and it made me feel better. I don't want anyone to settle for me and if it's not right, it's not. But we're all kinds of awesome together and he said he's not ready to decide we aren't right so onward we go.

Don't get me wrong, it'll hurt if he doesn't pick me and it feels uneasy to be more vulnerable than he is right now, but I think he's worth waiting this out for. And I mean seriously, how can you not appreciate a guy who lets you talk when you're feeling insecure, doesn't freak out, answers your questions, holds and kisses you during and appreciates you for being honest, direct and also not freaking out. That's a man, dear readers. It's fucking refreshing. Even my friends he's met see what I see for once. That's a good sign. And getting to know him has been great. We laugh a lot, we're both complete dorks a good amount of the time, the sex is pretty phenomenal, we both tend to run late (this we have to work on), I tease him about how much he hates ketchup because I love it.. you know, the usual figuring the other person out. He's smart, easy to look at, affectionate, kind, patient and supportive.. and our relationship has been really easy.......... Hm.. Yeah.. I just called it a relationship.

Fuck. I'm screwed.

Spring Awakening

Well hellooo spring in Seattle! Where have you been all my life? Let's not talk last year because you were nonexistent and we're all still a little bit bitter about that. We actively live within the five stages of grief when describing the weather here anyway, but it's quite clear the population has missed you. Strangers smile at each other, drivers stop for pedestrians and slow down for bicyclists, the cherry blossoms brighten up residential streets with exponential amounts of pink and all is right in the world.

It's easy to feel the glow from the city when it's like this. Or maybe I've noticed that the Cute Boy Gate has officially been opened as far as I can tell even if it's been a bit of a rough start this year romantically. From one guy who led me on until finally saying I was just ‛fun' to the most recent guy who, after nine days together (NINE, people..), expected us to continue being inseparable because that's how we began. Seriously, who has that kind of time?! And, as I thought might happen, my feelings were squashed by the concept of something too instantaneous and the fact we didn't take the time to get to know each other. And when the guy in between started out sizzling but turned downright arctic in practically minutes, my confusion amplified, especially when he completely vaporized without explanation. That one stung because I thought he was actually a friend. Crappy realization that was.

Four months into the year and I seem to be racking up the discards. At least one was a poor decision, but the others.. well ok.. maybe they weren't the best decisions either, but every opportunity deserves the benefit of the doubt in order to know if it's filled with hope or.. well.. doubt. And then out of no where the sun breaks through the clouds, lightens our outlook and the weight on our psyches and a new and attractive prospect falls in our lap. A slightly ginger prospect, a year older even and one who so far gets the concept of pacing, chemistry AND real connection (and not just the horizontal kind.. tho that's rather mind blowing too.. ahem).

But asking for pace requires patience and some effort on my part to remain a bit detached even if I'm enjoying our time together. It's not terribly difficult, but it's not easy either. I mean, I am me.. and who doesn't get excited about meeting someone new with whom you click? That said, it's not making me crazy if I don't hear from him for a day or two either. Could it possibly be I'm starting something the right way for once? Did you just knock on something wooden? Because I did. You should too. Just in case.

One might think with this entry into being 40 I'm finally figuring out how relationships should work and evolve and yet the beardless youth think I'm more their age than my own. I'm really not supposed to be a cougar, I swear. I have a youthful face and an energetic nature and I'm not going to apologize for either, but it can lead to complications. Take the other cute boy I'm dating who is just that.. a boy. Of 25. True story. I'll give you a second to do the math. Doo doo do doo.. Oh, not mathy either? Fine. He's 15 years younger. FIF-TEEN. Do you need a minute to recover? Because, even I'll admit, that's a little cray-cray... because 25 year olds? Um.. super cute and all, but they're a teensy bit.. um.. what's the word? Oh yeah. Young. Oh he's sweet and a good guy and has somewhat limited life experience, which in and of itself isn't the complicated part. I mean, for an old lady like myself the attention is really flattering - not to mention how often he tells me he thinks I'm sexy - but from the beginning, he knew that I was cautious because of his age and because I really like the other guy I'm seeing even if that relationship isn't exclusive right now. And because I do have a conscience, it feels a little like I'm leading him on even though I've been honest and clear with him. Still, for his meager years, that boy certainly knows how to lay a kiss on a girl that makes her knees weak. So I don't think we're meant for each other and this probably isn't a surprise to him, but I shouldn't let it go on much longer.

It's a perk of casual dating to be able to be open to other people if they so happen to come along and spring seems to be one of those seasons where that often happens for me. I'm certainly not immune to the weather changes here and my serotonin and Vitamin D levels peak just like everyone else's once we get a week's worth of steady sunshine. And duh, it's easier to feel more attractive when you're smiling. So when you meet another new someone you're quickly drawn to who's easy on the eyes AND provides witty banter and has um.. really nice arms and pretty blue eyes while you're at a friend's potluck and the sun is setting.. yeah, I'm glad I'm not monogamous with one person per se. Possibility hangs in the air even if nothing actually happens, but it's freeing to know if something did, you wouldn't be doing anything wrong. I'm grateful at the moment not to feel that uncontrollable longing for one person who doesn't seem sure about me yet. It's actually nice to be in the same place emotionally or uh, unemotionally (?) but still enjoying being in the moment and the time we spend together. The magic of that is the spark you have might just turn a corner one way or another and maybe at the same time which could mean something amazing and life-changing or something that was really fun and lovely, but short-lived. As long as the latter doesn't feel negative, I'm ok with that.

I'm alone, but not lonely. I feel a little Thoreau-like these days - content in my solitude when I get it, though, let's be honest, I'm not isolated in the middle of the woods either. I'm a pretty social being, but I'm not uncomfortable if I don't have plans of some kind and end up on my own. Sometimes, I prefer it. Of course, the frequent male attention has been particularly nice, I'll admit. But how can I not get a kick out of enjoying my own company? I find little things to entertain myself at the gym in my head to pass the time and the fact that I'm there working out my body regularly these days rather than sitting on the couch inspires me and makes me feel proud. I'm learning to spin poi (as in fire spinning for those of you non-burners who don't know what that is) and the intricacy of learning a new skill that has the potential to amaze is pretty fucking awesome. The goal is to work with real poi and light them up next week. If I don't light myself on fire, I'll let you all know. Hell, I'll write about it even if I do. And the show I'm working on is winding down, but I've made a positive impression now and feel like I'll be working when I want to on good projects with good people. Even that ego-driven side has shown to have generated some genuine kinships.

So raise a glass of sangria or a cup of gelato in my name and celebrate the glory of spring because you should. You really, really should. Get out and breathe in the flower-filled air, find the magic and hope in the sexy spark of someone new and relish the fact you're learning how to prevent from getting burned in the process.. finally. At least until you throw some lit poi into the mix. Or is that just me? Stand by with a wet towel just in case, yeah?

I Heart Me(n)

When I was in second grade, I distinctly remember being terribly lovesick over the same boy my best friend, Laura, also liked. His name was scribbled in every possible fashion all over my book bag. At every recess, I'd pick daisies to bits chanting, ‛He loves me, he loves me not..' until I got the answer I was looking for. I don't remember talking with Laura about more than how cute he was, but I'm certain we  never talked about sharing him and I distinctly remember that. During show and tell we'd sit on either side of him and he'd put an arm around each of us. For reals. Clearly we were way ahead of our time.. though now that I think about it, it was the 70's..

There's no doubt I've been boy crazy all my life though it's never been more incriminating than recently when I found my Hello Kitty diary listing a different boy's name at the end of  almost every entry. Passionately scripted with an ‛I heart' whomever was the flavor of the day, I wondered while reading it as an adult if I ever thought of anything else. And honestly? Not sure I did. My college journals, though much  angstier and a better vocabulary, read basically the same way. I sound terribly desperate, like I'm trying too hard, and just so incredibly naive and hopeful - as in totally setting myself up for heartbreak. I don't think I'm as naive - more jaded than anything now - but I'm not sure much else has changed.

It takes some work - to walk the line of being ready for a partner and not looking so hard for one that you seem desperate. It also seems like it's a bad thing to want one - as if that makes you seem weak, like you don't think you're completely whole without a boyfriend. And that's not the case at all. If it was, I'd never be single. And I'm single most often. I've lived in Seattle for about 17 years now and I've had four serious boyfriends. Four. Each lasted a year or less so really, that's not a lot and other than the first two, there was a massive amount of time between the rest.. like eight years. I wasn't holed away in a convent or anything during that time. Dating just never worked for longer than a few weeks or maybe something on and off for a month or two. And since the last one, in 2009 - well, you can do the math there.

There have been options.. good people too, not all liars, cheaters or wishy-washy types, though there have been plenty of those, but they're just not the right ones for me and I don't think I should settle. So if I rush into something, I'm foolish. If I don't fall for just anyone who's into me, then I'm too picky. Judgy much? And, of course, the ones I've crushed out on haven't felt the same way, aren't in the right place, or a combo of those two in addition to having left the country. Yes, really.

So I'm single and it's not a curse. I'm good on my own. I'm meeting heaps of new people, especially some kickass women who are becoming great friends. Writing is fabulously satisfying (if not always grammatically correct) and I threw out an idea I had to a playwriting friend of maybe writing a play about meeting my bio mom and he fully supported it. Another friend thinks I should look into a career in social media marketing. I mean, I feel like something is on the verge - not that I have any clue what that might be. A person or a thing or an opportunity is about to fall in my lap. Not sure how I know this, but something's coming. Seriously, I've been humming that West Side Story song. It really feels like that.. but you know.. with less dancing and much less stabbing at the end (though there has been a copious amount of karaoke with different groups of friends wherever and whenever we can get mic time - gay bars, karaoke bars, chinese restaurants.. we don't discriminate. Come out with us. If you can pry the mic from our hands, it's your turn to sing.).

Though, since I started this post, I met someone. Weird right? It's been a week since our first date last Thursday and we were basically inseparable for the first four days. I want to gush and be in the moment, but here I am trying to be logical this time and attempt to slow down what already started to snowball into what I think could be a good thing IF we don't fuck it up. It makes sense. I got burned last time I rushed. Though I was also burned when I took my time because I felt led on. And this one says he never rushes.. and he finds himself doing just that because he says he's ‛totally infatuated', which he also says he never feels. Um.. ok.. here's where the too-good-to-be-true anxiety kicks in where I think it should all line up, I'm getting everything I want, we spend a few fantastic weeks together and then BAM! He'll turn on a dime and disappear into thin air. He'll tell me he's seeing someone else. He's using me to cheat on someone. He's not ready because he just wants something casual.. or not at all. And listen - that's my brain being scared, wondering how I protect myself this time because getting hurt sucks. Hurting other people sucks. I want to be wise about this. I like him. He seems like a good guy with a good heart. He's super cute and smart and a snappy dresser (which you can't say about everyone, people.. no no, you can not.), a burner and we have things in common and he thinks I'm gorgeous and that he couldn't possibly get sick of me. Like seriously. He said that. And he's not a player. Get this - he thought I was. As in, he thought I was sooo pretty I couldn't possibly do more with men than chew them up and spit them out. Right? High-larious! He thinks I'm that kind of pretty! It's sort of a compliment.. when you think about it.

It's different to be told someone is willing to take a chance on you when they don't normally take chances. I want to believe it, but it's a risk at this early stage. So I planned a first date with someone else. Yes, I realize how that sounds.. like I'm messing up a good thing already. He agrees with you, dear reader. And, I'll admit, even with it all up front, it does feel funny. Earlier last week, I had no one to consider. Then a recent chance meeting at a museum of someone I kept running into anyway and suddenly, random guy is possible boyfriend material at the same time I go back to the online personals and one of the few possible glimmers of hope in that hot mess of single, D&D fanatics hits me up. What to do?

I don't think it's unreasonable to meet up with the second guy and see what, if anything, transpires. Most likely, nothing will. New Boy, however, doesn't see it that way. Had I done this a month into seeing him, I'd understand. If I was pursuing more options than this one guy who messaged me at the same time I started seeing New Boy, I'd get that a little too. That's not what's going on. We've been dating a week. We spent an inordinate amount of time together the first few days, and I'll give you it was really great, but you have to come up for air and be your own person and take time to see your friends, clean your apartment, do your laundry, veg.. I don't know.. just be without this new person once in a while so you can figure out if you miss them, if you're thinking about them, if you can't wait to see them.. but you can't do that if you continue to spend every possible second together, right? It's addicting to be into someone that much. I get it, but I also know myself and once in a while, when this has happened, the momentum of emotions disappears. Out of no where any feelings or attraction I had vanish and I can't get them back. I can't explain it when it happens because I don't understand it myself. All I can conclude is that we moved too fast, things happened too quickly and I need out as soon as possible, leaving someone hurt in my wake. It'd be great to.. you know.. avoid that.

So how do you find the balance of starting something new when there's excitement and connection and great sex (because hellooo.. I am in my prime, people..)? Good question.. because I swear it's all or nothing sometimes.. feast or famine when it comes to my luck with men. Most often they only want me when it's convenient for them, which isn't convenient for me. Then occasionally, they want me so much, they don't want to let me out of their site, which after feeling starved for affection, is a nice change, but that sort of deluge can be suffocating. Even a starving man will get full eventually and need time to digest before his next meal. That's where I am now. Digesting. Letting someone in, but only so much, because you shouldn't eat your appetizer, main course AND dessert all at once. And seriously, where's the cheese course in this analogy anyway? Mmm.. cheese.

Bling 2.0

Did you notice? Miss D got herself a little facelift - and by little, I mean like whoa.. right? The watercolor was lovely, but it didn't scream me to be honest. Now, there's a kick, some sparkle, my little devil girl is back and she even brought her new bff to keep her company. How I'd missed her sassy, little pitchfork.

Clearly, I had help. The lovely people at Leelou Blogs, specifically Brooke, came to my blah blog rescue. She's still tweaking a couple of little things, but I wanted to give the girl props because she's awesome-sauce. Thank you, Brooke! She didn't even argue with me when I asked her to remove one of the dots from the ellipsis at the end of the tagline in the header. And, while we're on the subject, for the record, I know a proper ellipsis is three dots. I do. I don't know what it is, but I think two are just more aesthetically pleasing. Three imply a much longer lull at the end of the thought than I ever intend. I don't want you hanging there forever. Just.. briefly. And then move on. See? I don't need a pause you can drive a truck through. Don't you have things to do? Because I do. So take a beat and then let's get a move on. Yes, of course, it's grammatically incorrect, but I'm making a stylistic choice to be wrong. I've used ‛tho' as an abbreviated version of though, which I just recently decided to give up because maybe text speak really shouldn't have a place here.. so ‛thru' also now becomes through because I'm a grown up and I know how to spell and I should feel blessed because there are people in the world who aren't so lucky. Yes there are. So it's time to use my powers for good.. but I'm keeping my two-dot ellipsis. Capisce?

Anyway, if your space is craving a little spring in its step, give the seriously talented and gifted artists at Leelou a shout. You may have to wait a little.. they're kind of popular. But when it's your turn, man do they make you feel like the prettiest girl at the dance. And don't we all deserve to feel that special once in a while? Complete with a little pixie dust and glitter? Hell to the yeah, I say.. with a wink even.

Don't Give Love A Bad Name

Maybe I'm in the minority, especially being a single woman, but I'm a fan of Valentine's Day. However, it seems to have only two collectives : the bitter, single folks who are committed to anti-celebrating the day or the schmoopy couples trying to enjoy it without alienating their unattached associates. Valentine's doesn't have to be the only day you make someone you hold dear feel special, but I don't think anything is wrong with letting it stand out on its own as an extra day for being generous with love no matter what the relationship.

That said, despite having a reason to feel bitter or jaded due to the most recent split last weekend (yup, it's pretty inevitable you're done dating someone when he tells you that you're more invested than he is, but he finds you ‛fun'.. and stops there), I refused to wallow for more than the initial day when I felt wounded. I was let go to find someone who wants to spend time with me, wants to invest, wants to hurry up and finish whatever it is they're doing because they're excited to see me. Not that I want to go looking at this very moment or even soon really. Before New Year's, I was doing really well on my own and I'm pretty happy otherwise now, but a few years ago, I wrote this poem to myself and I found it yesterday. I knew while reading it I still felt the same way. Sometimes it's ok to let things go on as they are, not worry about where it's going and other times, there's a point you reach where you have to acknowledge maybe you're in different places, have disparate feelings and don't want the same things.. so thus, even if they're a lovely person you have a hard time getting out of your system, you have to let go and move forward. I don't want to be negative about this hope of having a partner, but I don't want to be desperate for it either. And this last disconnect is a slight jab to the ego more than a sucker punch to the gut, for once, and that tells me ending it was the right thing to do.

Besides, I had a great day spending time with my 3-year-old charge, Jack, who couldn't have been happier to see me when I picked him up from pre-school. His run-on sentences included the cookie making (and eating) they'd done at school that day, how much he liked his best friend, Adam, who his mommy calls ‛a nut job,' and how he couldn't wait to pick out cupcakes for his brother, Liam, his dad and me.

(If you're ever in Seattle and think to yourself how much you suddenly want a cupcake, you have a slew of options, but the best place in the city, maybe anywhere actually, is Trophy Cupcakes. By far, their best is the red velvet, but they had a lot of special ones created just for Valentine's and I indulged in the chocolate raspberry that didn't suck. No, no it did not.)

Then, surprisingly, after settling into one episode of The Backyardigans, the Universe gave me a special Valentine's gift.. Jack fell asleep. For a little boy who no longer naps, this was a really rare reprieve from his usual rough and tumble energy and I was ever so grateful to have a little break before ending my work day.

I thought I'd have an evening to myself of making dinner and indulging in a Ryan Gosling movie, but I convinced myself not only could I do that anytime, but it was silly to stay home on a night I wanted to feel a little more special with or without the romance aspect. So my friend, Brady, and I decided to attend the poorly titled Laugh Lover's Ball comedy show because laughing never sucks. And when accompanied by drinks it's even better. One of my favorite comics, Jackie Kashian, was performing and she didn't disappoint. The only odd duck in the group was the comic listed as an alien. True story. And ohhh.. he was not terribly funny and in full costume and make up, the likes of which belonged in a Star Trek movie. Poor guy was heckled by an outspoken woman who didn't get his jokes satirically mocking Mexicans, women, male dominance.. you know.. things one shouldn't joke about, satirical or not. He shut her down pretty gracefully, but we all breathed a sigh of relief when he finished. Our other favorite comic that night was Ryan Hamilton and you can see part of the act we saw from when he was featured on Conan. It's a shortened version, but the bit about hot air balloons and wicker baskets slayed me.

I think I'm going to make the comedy thing a tradition now that this is the second year in a row I've accidentally spent it that way. Last year I just happened to be in L.A. and attended The Benson Interruption (with Nick Swardson, Garfunkel & Oates, Anthony Jeselnik, Al Madrigal and Sean Cullen - fucking amazing! You can get that episode for $1.99 and seriously? So funny..) at Largo with a couple of college girlfriends who I hadn't seen in more than a decade. Not only does it completely take the pressure off the holiday, it pretty much gives the finger to every commercial reminding you that you're a loser if you're single and you should propose if you're not. I love love as much as the next person, but let's all get a grip shall we?

Here's to cupcakes, little boys who nap, men who don't waste our time, remaining hopeful, laughing, good friends, good drinks, not settling and being honest about what we want. I hope you had a lovely Valentine's Day and you know that you're loved.

Treat Yo' Self

I'm just about finished with last year's catch up and am entering the holiday period that was one of the easiest I've had with my family in ages. I realize Valentine's Day is around the corner, a holiday I often mock incessantly or simply ignore (read: because I'm single. Stupid extra holiday created by Hallmark.), but I'm unclear what will, if anything, unfold on this lover's holiday and without having any expectations about it, I'm focusing on making it a day filled with opportunities to be kind and warm to those who are important to me. And if there's anything else special that happens, then double awesome.

So in light of the combo of December and February holidays, I decided to make this post a little gift list for your (un)intendeds or simply things to get yourself just because.. well, because as Tom and Donna say on Parks and Recreaction, you should treat yo' self.

My mother's birthday is in early December. Yes, thank you very much you sarcastic gift gods because my mother is extremely difficult to shop for as she just buys whatever the hell she wants for herself All. The. Time. whenever she thinks she wants it. Not only do I have to be incredibly ingenious for her birthday, I have to double it for Christmas and honestly, you have no idea how challenging it is to get her a) something she doesn't already have and b) something she actually wants and will not then re-gift right back to you as she's done in the past to her own daughter.. which would be me. I give you Exhibit A:

FLASHBACK

‟You wear scarves right? You should take this," she said nonchalantly, handing me a silky beige and brown scarf that I instantly recognized.

‟Is this the scarf I gave you last year for Christmas," I asked shocked.

‟Oh. I guess it is. I don't wear them though," she answered as she turned and casually walked away leaving me dumbfounded.

‟Uh, next year you get cash, lady," I shouted loud enough so she could hear me in the other room. ‟Unwrap that!"

So I thought I'd hit the jackpot this year when I not only found what I thought was the perfect birthday item, but got it there a whole day early! Though Mom usually only reads the latest Danielle Steele novels, she loves Diane Keaton and she'd just come out with a memoir, Then Again, which sounded lovely and touching when I'd heard her talk about it on The Daily Show. I thought Mom would love it, but love might've been a strong word. Lukewarm would better describe her reaction since she was ‛already reading something' and it seemed to bother her that she had a whole other book waiting for her when she finished her current one. I don't know. Your mom is nice, right? Get it for your mom. Get it for yourself. It looks good. My mom is weird.

After my mild success (well, she hasn't re-gifted it yet..) with Mom's birthday, I moved onto holiday shopping. Continuing with books, my brother loves to read about history so I found this awesome book called A History of the World in 100 Objects, ‟..one hundred man-made artifacts, each of which gives us an intimate glimpse of an unexpected turning point in human civilization." Cool and interesting, right? I thought so. Then, accidentally, I found another book I knew his warped sense of humor would dig, Me Write Book: It Bigfoot Memoir, by Graham Roumieu, which is one of the funniest things I've ever picked up. With watercolor illustrations that only heighten how much you'll be laughing.. like that silent-can't-catch-your-breath laughter. AND there are TWO other books! Hilarious. Go get them!

‟Why you no belive me? Why Bigfoot lie about being abducted by alien? Even get it on video tape. ‛Expert' say it fake. Say I stage. ‛UFO pie plate' and ‛Bigfoot just person in gorilla suit.' Yeah, and this glow stick in rectum just get there all on it own." 

Now my sister-in-law is super easy to shop for because she usually likes the same things I do so when I found ModCloth, I knew I was in trouble because everything I got for her.. um.. I maybe wanted to keep. For example, this ring? Freakin awesome and looks like pretty mini fireworks on your hand. It only came in one size and don't think I didn't try it on because I did, but it just didn't fit right. It fit perfectly on my sister-in-law and she loved it. Yay! I also got her some pretty eyeshadow in Dragon Scales and maybe got myself that one and the one in Nymph. What?

To follow up Mom's birthday even though she told us not to get her anything for Christmas, I knew she'd been talking about the domino game we played this summer at the Oregon Coast. It's not a big ticket item, but you did read the part that Mom is hard to shop for right? Right. So. Mexican Train it was. And seriously? Play this game. SO fun! For realz. Also? Get the extra domino tray holders because it's just too many dominos to organize without them. Trust me and my OCD-ness on this, k?

To cover the maternal grandmother, my aunt and uncle and the family white elephant gift I actually bought multi-photo frames for pictures I personally took! Like who prints out pictures they took anymore?! Apparently I do! And they were good and looked all kickass framed and everyone loved them! And I can't show you all of them, but they may have been a few of the supercool pics from the post you see here.

You know what else I made for people? MADE! For OTHER PEOPLE! You could EAT them even! I was getting so crafty all up in Christmas' business this last year, I tell you. All freakin year I saved little jars from pesto and pickles and Greek olives and used them to package up homemade spiced pecans I gave to friends for gifts and they were quite the treat, if I do say so myself. I should know because I may have been the Quality Taste Tester for those babies. Try not to. It's not easy NOT to lick your fingers. But they're super quick and easy to make. You don't even have to bake them because you know you'll burn them if they actually go in the oven right? Ok, maybe that's just me. But this is by far my favorite recipe so try it. Emeril knows what he's talking about. And if you or someone you're making them for can't do spicy, you can eliminate the cayenne. They do have a little kick so you've been warned.

Last, but not least, the best gay wasn't spoiled last year because I just couldn't get it together and he always gets me a very thoughtful gift. For once, I told him not to bother because he spoiled me on my birthday and it was his turn to feel special. He loves to cook and he does complicated stuff like roasts and things I don't understand (I mean if it's not stir fry or a burrito.. (dude - you change up like two ingredients and you have one or the other.)). So my first idea was to create a Basket of Awesomeness with all kinds of specialty items I picked up at Pike Place Market, which is his favorite place for produce. There were two different kinds of cheeses and a fig spread from Beecher's Handmade Cheese, a small bouquet of tulips from one of the flower merchants, a bottle of my favorite Moscato from Pike & Western Wine Shop, and some crackers and chocolate from Pear Delicatessen. Then I wrapped up Anne Burrell's new book, Cook Like A Rock Star, which I'd seen her pimp on The Daily Show (Jon is my favorite Jew ever.. sue me.) and it sounded fantastic and right up Loren's alley. I took a peek when it arrived and I LOVE the easy way she writes, which is like she talks, which is like someone you could totally relate to and be friends with (though let's be honest.. her hair looks a teeny bit crazy). And she explains things so nicely and with lots of humor. But after the ‛little bites' chapter, it gets a little harder and was certainly beyond my limited expertise. And that's why I got it for someone else! Yay! I scored again! Give it to someone you know who likes to cook and wants to make the best homemade gnocchi for you and then tell me how that turns out because it looks fantastic!

Not to be forgotten, there were a couple other people on my list I had to cover. Shine had been thru hell and back last year after losing a close friend and roommate to cancer and Kristen who helped me throw my 40th birthday deserved something special to thank her for all she'd done too. I figured a 1-hour massage from a fellow Hippo, Nityia, at Thai Massage Seattle would do the trick for each of them and boy howdy did it ever. I haven't received any reviews yet, but they were giddy with excitement because who doesn't need a good massage once in a while? Seriously.

Phew! That's a whole mess of random recommendations for fancy, anytime gifts if you feel so inclined to spoil the people you adore.. including yourself. You're allowed. If anyone asks, just tell them I said it's about time you treat yo' self. Besides, you know it is.

Rites Of Passage

Last November, I turned 40. Yes, really. If you've read me in the past (or even if you didn't), you should know I love my birthday. It's my favorite holiday. I mean, in my opinion, it should be a holiday, but for now, even though it's not, it is to me. It's at least as important as National Pie Day (there really is one . Seriously.. I mean a whole day dedicated to PIE?! Yay!). Three-day weekends should be incorporated is what I'm saying.

Debauchery was insured. I planned on forgetting the incredibly difficult show I'd just finished and all the negatives that surrounded it and moving forward with an unstoppable amount of positive energy. I did not fail. Not in the slightest. I'd planned an awesome party for myself. I have a talent for this. Seriously, you should have me plan you a party. I'm that good. It was at Clever Bottle in Belltown, the same place I'd had it the year before, however, since then, she'd expanded and the extra room was perfect for the added Hippos and friends made in the last year plus a little karaoke madness.

Kristen, the owner of Clever Bottle, was so psyched about my party and the fact it was the first repeat birthday celebrated at her bar, she added a few special touches. This menu? Amazingly sweet right?

When I saw the menu, I didn't have enough light for the picture. When you have techie theater friends, they always have a flashlight. Always. This was no exception. 

My friend Sophia and I. I do lots of self snapshots at birthdays.. it's what I do.. And my bangs? Well they do whatever the hell they want apparently. 

My friend Vince and I - and my friend Jon being funny. Eh.. I look good with bunny ears. 

Oh.. did I mention there was karaoke? Aw yeah.. Kristen's treat and it was kickass. Also? I'm now a complete ham when there is karaoke. I maybe can sing a little and once I start, it's hard to get me to stop. Especially when I've been drinking. Also also? My dress rocked. Got it in L.A. at Wasteland last February. $20! Nothing in L.A. is $20 unless maybe your valet parking..  

AM and I.. in a pink boa. Because, why not?

More camera shots at arm's length. This guy on my right (your left) could sing.. like Chris Colfer.. can't remember his name.. and the two lovelies on my left are Hippos - Sheena and Manita. 

Theater people! My friends Lynn, Brad (my union guy from the last show I did and holy cow can he sing too) and moi. 

The last ones left.. Brad, me, the owner of Clever Bottle, Kristen, and Stacey.. we maybe left to drink more. Needless to say, we didn't need it. 

It was like any birthday party you've been to, if you'v been to one of my birthdays that is. And by that I mean completely awesome. I don't know what it is about my parties, but honestly? They don't suck. In fact, they're the opposite of sucking. They pretty much rock everyone's socks off. People tell me these things later, that's how I know. For realz. I looked awesome, my stupid bangs got in the way as they are wont to do every birthday it seems, but whatever, and, as you can imagine, there was drinking. Like a lot. And there was the singing of solos, duets, trios and strangers jumping in on the singing (not to mention the cake eating - well, because the cake was fucking fantastic so that's understandable (the chocolate white chocolate from Simply Desserts in Fremont in case you want to get in on that tastiness and trust me, you do.)) and more drinking and a bit of hangover the next morning, but ultimately, it all resulted in a giant smile on my face that carried into the next week. Maybe still actually.

You'd think that'd be plenty of celebrating and, for any other birthday, you'd be right (tho I have been known to have at least four birthday parties in a week's time. No really, I used to be the biggest attention whore. I've improved, I swear.). But this year, I planned an additional weekend as a birthday present to myself and ran away to San Francisco to see some Hippos who lived there. One of my Seattle Hippos, Citrus, who's the sister I never had, decided to come with me. Thank god because we were fantastically entertaining to ourselves.

You have to know one thing: Citrus is trying to teach me the value of being on time, which, for the record, I already know.. I'm just.. a little slow at getting it down sometimes. So, in an effort to prevent missing our flight, she picked me up via a town car, but she was five minutes early. FIVE. Do you know how much I can get done in five minutes? Well, I could've finished packing.. but she did it for me. After she THREW my bag and the last few toiletries I was trying to pack into the town car. Seriously. She CHASED ME out of the house. I cursed her name all the way to the airport jokingly saying after all the rushing and causing me to forget a few small things, our flight will probably be delayed. And of course, as luck would have it, it was. FOR THREE HOURS. Stupid poorly placed San Francisco Airport surrounded by even stupider wind and fog.

So what are a couple of lovely ladies stuck in Concourse A of the SeaTac Airport to do when they now won't arrive in San Francisco in time to even make last call? We drank. A lot (are you seeing a pattern?). At this uber classy bar (and by classy, I mean odd and poorly themed) called the Africa Lounge (see? And really, if we're getting grammatical - shouldn't it be the African Lounge? I'm just saying.). There are pictures of elephants and possibly wildebeests on the tables.. and that's the extent of anything African there. Unless Africans eat turkey sandwiches, nachos and drink vodka tonics. I think not.

We also texted, facebooked, tweeted (these got funnier the more we drank, obviously), made friends with the other now-stranded-along-with-us-San-Francisco-bound passengers who were also getting lit or texting us with updates from the gate, which we'd pass along to the rest of the bar. It made for a much more jovial group of fellow travelers when we were finally called to the plane for boarding. Hallelujah!

While delayed in Seattle for three long hours, Citrus makes the best of our time.. 

I love Virgin Airlines. LOVE them.. however, I do NOT love their headphones. Citrus and I apparently have tiny heads. Even at the smallest setting they were still too big so she ingeniously wadded up the wrapper they came in and put it between her head and the band. Perfect! She also looks like a muppet because the flash took out her nose.. hee.. 

Saturday, the next night, we went dancing at Mighty (super fun club despite its bridge-and-tunnel crowd). Miguel Migs was dj'ing, we got in free (yay!), and Citrus, the mother of THREE children under 10, danced us all under the table.. I don't know where she gets the energy. 

Sunday morning, we met some gorgeous Hippos (Kiz, Citrus, Christina, and Erwin) for brunch at The Phoenix Irish Bar in the Mission. Really, really good food. Go there.. like now. 

Citrus left after brunch Sunday and I stayed one more night with Christina in Nob Hill. Really cool area where we had dinner at Leopold's, this amazing Austrian restaurant where the beer comes in as much as FIVE liter steins! Christina shows off the one liter options with a smile. Mmm beer! Also? The papparadelle was freaking fantastic. Get some!

My amazing group of Hippos and our other non-Hippo friends who came along for the party.

San Francisco didn't disappoint. For two nights we stayed with our friend Matt (who for some reason I missed getting pictures of) in the Mission. He lives within walking distance of funky bars, overpriced but yummy coffee shops and tasty breakfast joints. And the weather couldn't have been better. I packed for windy and cool temperatures and it was about 75 every day we were there. Unseasonably warm for the second week of November and Citrus and I soaked it up as much as possible. 

There was dancing, drinking and eating - not in any particular order - and then there was shopping. One afternoon in the Haight Ashbury District and that did us in. Citrus knew where to go and our first stop was Ceiba Records. I was so confused why we were shopping for music until we walked in and I realized they sold burner attire. And it was frilly and funky and supercool burner wear at that! I was in costume heaven! Well, then there was the sticker shock. Ceiba isn't cheap, but every single item I bought is adorable, locally made, original or just made my ass look fantastic. Can't blame me, can you? And I could've walked out with more, but I couldn't spend all my weekend money in one place. 

Just a few blocks down was Gypsy Streetwear. Similar stuff, but different and much closer to affordable! I got itty bitty shrugs and sexy wrap tops and was grinning at the thought of my now well-stocked costume arsenal. 

My favorite part of the trip is that everywhere we went, we had a different mix of Hippos. Whomever could join us wherever they could did and though they couldn't all do everything with us, we spiced our visit with as many of them as we could. The non-hippos included my long-time friend, Scott, who lives in Oakland, a couple of his friends he brought and some other burners I met last year at Camp DeMentha, Ed and Mark. I loved we could get that burner feeling without having to be at the burn. Dust-free, street-clothes comfy and everyone in their own element. 

Citrus had to leave after Sunday brunch and I stayed through Monday with our friend Christina in her tiny but uber perfect little studio apartment in Nob Hill. Before the Hippos joined us Sunday night for dinner, we got a couple glasses of wine and some one on one friend time we didn't get at the 2010 burn where we met. You know those people who just glow? She's one of them. She's gorgeous to look at but you know she's a stunner on the inside too. I just love her.

It was her idea to have dinner at Leopold's and our group just kept getting bigger. And dinner? Holy. Crap. So. Good. There wasn't one drop of food left on anyone's plate. The restaurant was buzzing with celebratory energy. Large groups ordering five liter beers because they could, birthday songs being sung and my friends weren't going to be outdone. Ed stood up on his chair and demanded loudly the entire restaurant sing to me. And they did. Happily! Can I please tell you how great that was? Really great. Like.. SOOO great. I may have been beaming. 

Last day in the city and I missed Citrus, but Christina, Smiley, Erwin and I met for breakfast at this darling bakery called La Boulange before they all had to be at work. Did I mention the food in San Francisco is incredible? I'm running out of appropriately descriptive words it was so good. Though they lost points for my bowl of coffee. You heard me. As in no handle. I'm sorry, but even hipsters who live in San Francisco need handles on their ceramic bowls of coffee, people. Please. I felt like a dog. Who drinks coffee.. just weird.

Headed back home, I was on a high from such a love-filled weekend that the next birthday will be hard to top. I have to admit though, 40 still, as of right now, doesn't sit very comfortably with me. It's just a small hang up though because otherwise? I'm in a good place with who I am, working on some things, feeling good about others, maybe a little shaky with my passion in theater, but finding connections to explore. Nannying is working well, I love the little boy I look after and it may finally go to something full-time soon. I'm learning how to spin poi (as in spinning fire.. ooh! Ever so cool and not easy! Sometimes rather painful actually.), which is very exciting especially if the possibility of spinning in the conclave at Burning Man actually happens! Writing here feels like I'm exercising a muscle I completely forgot about and takes longer than I'd like, but feels cathartic. And lastly, I may be seeing someone I'm excited about. I don't know how this is possible as all the funny, attractive, straight and single men in Seattle are taken or maybe just not for me. I don't know.. he seems to like me and he's kinda awesome so I'm just trying not to jinx it. 

All good things. I'm happy and grounded.. not angsty at all. It's such a nice feeling after so much time of.. well.. not that. It's just.. being 40. That still feels like a nasty hairball stuck in the back of my throat, but being able to pass for 26 certainly makes that hairball a lot more bearable. 

Oh, The Places You'll Go!

I didn't write about my third trip to Burning Man in 2010. I'm not sure why. Eight months into a bumpy year of losing my job, a bruised ego, and trying to figure out what would come next, I stepped out onto the playa, into a camp I'd just joined earlier that year, and it began to rain. Hard. The playa doesn't take to rain well, at least not if you're trying to walk on it. It becomes a very cement-like type mud. Quickly. Luckily, rain there doesn't last long and about 10-15 minutes later, it subsided and left a fantastic and intense rainbow afterwards. And then it did the most perfect thing and doubled. You could hear cheers across the entire playa. The collective joy was infectious. I was Home. I was officially a burner.

You might think it odd I didn't consider myself a burner until the third time I made this crazy trip to the desert. I certainly participated to the fullest extent each time - well, mostly - but it can take some time to decide if that's what you want to be. You can lose and find your bearings within seconds of each other at an event where your bearings are constantly shifting because your comfort level is continually being challenged and you don't know what to wear or bring because someone is always wearing something better or brighter and there's so much to see you couldn't possibly see it all. Phew! For me though, it was a sense of belonging. I belong to a magnificent community now and It belongs to me. The community of Burning Man is the larger parental life-force, but I'm talking about the community of my own camp, Hippocampus.

My very first trip was phenomenal and new and shocking and so many other words I can't find right now that wouldn't describe it appropriately anyway. I knew there was nothing like it anywhere in the rest of the world. And I was there. To experience it all.

Pixie, who now lives in Portland and is a blonde force to be reckoned with when she's trying to convince you of something new, coerced me into the idea of going in the first place because, the smartie that she is, she suggested an offer I couldn't really refuse. She'd buy my ticket if I went with her. A free trip to Burning Man. In retrospect, this was an enormous gift. I don't think I quite understood it at the time, but the burn changed my life. Really and truly it did and still does. I'll always be grateful to that gorgeous girl for opening that door for me.

Afterwards, I returned to the Real World in an extremely calm and happy state and could only attribute that to the indescribable experience I'd just had - and all the Vitamin D from a week's worth of non-stop sun. I couldn't stop talking about my adventure and knew I was going back in the coming year. No question. I just wanted to be a bit more comfortable and wanted a bit more of an organized clan.

My second year I became a sort of Pixie. I talked up the experience so much that a whole group of friends decided to come with me. No tents this time, RV's instead and we camped with extended friends called Baggage Check who promised covered showers. I swear, a week of cleaning yourself with baby wipes will change you and not in ways you'd appreciate.

For whatever reason, my second burn was just meh for me. I'm so glad my friends fell in love with the playa despite my experience that year, but I expected to feel more at home and instead felt awkward and out of place. I didn't connect with anyone in our extended camp and I was distracted by the boyfriend I desperately missed because we were deep in our honeymoon phase when I left. The frequent and lengthy dust storms that year didn't help either so with two more days still to get thru, I felt defeated and wanted to go home. I needed a stronger community to surround me and knew before I came back again, I'd have to find that.

It's an understatement that 2009 was a difficult year. I didn't go to the burn because I didn't want to pretend I was ok. Your issues have a way of finding you in the desert because there are so many opportunities for being rubbed raw - and not in a good way. It's the desert. Even surrounded by 50,000 people, you can end up on your own and feel isolated within your own reflections. I'd been reflecting.. all year.. and I couldn't move past it. I needed to jumpstart my healing after spending most of the year being so depressed no one, including myself, recognized me. So I spent two amazing weeks in Barcelona distracting myself and trying to let go. It didn't magically fix everything, but I felt renewed and more positive so by the following year, I was finally grounded and whole.

2010 was the Year of the Hippo - for me anyway. Introduced by common friends, I noticed there was always a welcoming feeling when you walked into any Hippocampus party or potluck. Someone always reached out to me, the homes I was invited to always lacked that ego-driven first impression energy where people are looking you up and down or wondering who you're connected to. Instead there were hugs. Not handshakes. Hugs. As in a hug from everyone who met you and in a room of 20-30 people, that's a lot of hugging. It felt like I'd stepped back into the burn for a moment each time I met these people.. and tho I didn't quite know what to expect being involved with a working theme camp, I knew this was a better fit for me.

The Hippos are a fun group to be apart of despite the fact Hippocampus is a working theme camp, which means just that - you work a lot. There are domes to set up, shade structure to tie down, and cafe and dinner shifts to work. It could sometimes be frustrating and difficult, but the Hippos were organized, they got their dance on often and well, they're very present and open and they're really a very genuinely loving group of people. It also doesn't hurt they're really easy on the eyes - like seriously, our people are so pretty it's ridic. And even tho I didn't connect with many of them as much as I'd wanted to before the trip,  we arrived at camp, right before the double rainbow moment and that was spectacularly good sign.

I had two favorite camp moments that year: when we volunteered at the gates for our greeter shift at the beginning of the week and David and Victor's wedding at the end of it. Each time it was something we did as a whole camp together and the energy and happiness just oozed out pores. You couldn't help but get caught up in it and who wouldn't want to?

The greeters are your last point of check in before you head into the playa. As a virgin burner, the greeters are in charge of beginning your first burn positively because we know the virgins are excited and nervous and have no idea what to expect. So once it's your turn to be greeted, they ask you where you're from and how many times you've been to Burning Man. If it's your first time, they ask you to get out of your vehicle so they can begin your official initiation. First, you're welcomed Home with a big hug and a huge smile. Then, since the dust is going to be in everything you own anyway, they ask you to get intimately acquainted with it and make a dust angel, roll around in it, whatever. Yes - many people protest, but usually they all give in. Lastly, they give you a metal rod and tell you to ring the bell closest to the gate and exclaim as loudly as possible, ‛I'm a virgin no more!’ This seals your entry, you're hugged again, because why not, and you're sent off with the sound advice to drink more water, don't put anything in the potty that doesn't come out of your body and safety third! Well, that last one is a Hippo saying we just find funny..

We met people from all over the world. I remember a girl from as far away as Dubai. There were car or busloads of Irish, Norwegians, Danes, Canadians, Israelis.. I mean,  it was incredible to me to understand the hours of travel anyone from outside the states had to do to get there, but they came regardless. Last year, Burning Man was listed in Time Magazine's book, Great Places of History: Civilization's 100 Most Important Sites: An Illustrated Journey, so this one-of-a-kind event had finally been acknowledged as the magical place it is and I feel really lucky to live so close to it although many of the people we greeted traveled days or even weeks to be there and put my little 16 hour trip each way to shame. Greeting is now such high point of the trip for all of us, we've since made it a burn tradition and volunteer for a shift every year.

Our friend Sebastian greets a virgin at the 2011 Rites of Passage burn and is instructing her how to get down and dirty, so to speak, in the dust for the first time. You can also see the line of bells along the front of the gates. 

Again from 2011's burn, Rites of Passage. At the end of our shift, we're all on our camp bus on our way back to camp. We were tired and exhausted because this was taken at 8am. 2010's shift was a Tuesday, 12pm to 4pm and it was hot like whoa. But this last year, we worked a Tuesday, 4am to 8am shift. A totally different experience. Shockingly, the line was much, much longer when we arrived to greet at 4am. This line at 8am was nothing obviously. 

Then there was David and Victor's wedding. They're a super sweet and gorgeous couple from New York at the time who were/are long-time burners and Hippos. Getting to know them beforehand was fun. They reminded me of my best gay boyfriends in Seattle, very easy to get along with, biting wit if needed, but not catty. They're just very genuine guys who were/are madly in love. Their ceremony couldn't have been more moving and powerful for all of us. I'd never seen a wedding so eclectically dressed, but this was their second family and they wanted all of them, or rather, us, to be part of it. I felt extremely honored. We even threw them a super fun bachelor party the night before with our own Hippo lap dancers - one professional, one just for comedy. It was all kinds of awesome.

The happy couple picked out an art instillation to have their wedding under (which of course is not really pictured - sorry!)  and their closest friends covered them with a canopy (it was extremely windy that afternoon).

Two of our group went around the Hippo circle surrounding David and Victor and wrapped ribbon around our wrists so we were all connected. I thought this was a really lovely idea. 

Some of the hippos to the left of me in the circle. Our wedding attire was requested to be silvery or steampunk if we could. Hardly formal attire, but it qualifies as 'burner wedding' for sure.

Returning to the Real World after that was disappointing. We all emailed about our decompression depression because so many of the Hippos don't live in Seattle and after a week's worth of intense connection and everyone goes back home, you miss them. A lot. So to prevent disconnection in our own city, we began our own Seattle traditions. Almost every Friday there's a potluck at the home of one couple who also were first-year Hippos like me and luckily, live only two blocks from my house. We created nights of dancing and taking over straight bridge-and-tunnel type clubs who didn't know what to think of us when we showed up dressed to the burner nines. We have birthday parties and baby showers and celebrate New Year's together and some are in a men's or women's group looking for a bit more direction and evolution in their lives. I've reached out to many of them for support, love, advice,  venting, laughter, dinners, costumes to borrow.. I mean it's my bottomless resource. They're people I want to emulate and they influence me positively. They're my chosen family. They've made me stronger, wiser, more patient, more open, more kind.. a better person overall.

Thank you, Pixie, for saying those three little words, 'Come with me.' It changed my life. Sparkly love to you and all my Hippos.