judge me, damnit.

so, i was talking to my friend cheryl from bay area the other day. and she mentioned how she's the minority down in her neck of the woods. (i grew up with white bread. lots and lots of white bread. don't get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing wrong with white bread. in fact, i prefer it.)

but anyway, she said when she goes to her local coffee shop (starbucks, is it?) they—the wheat/rye/sourdough-looking baristas across the counter—always spell her name with an 's.' as in [s]heryl rather than [c]heryl. 

cheryl, being a lovely thinker such as myself, came up with a theory that depending on what you look like or what the barista looks like (i'm talking bread type, people!), they will spell your name [s/cheryl] accordingly.

that said, i've decided to jump on the bandwagon and try out the s/cheryl challenge. i've been to tully's downtown by the workplace once so far, and damnit, they didn't ask for my name. but i'm excited. and cheryl says she is 75% sure they will spell my name with an 's.' 

i've asked a couple of other people and they all think they'll spell it with a 'c.' i figure it really depends 1) if you know a s/cheryl, and if you do, how they spell their name and 2) you got it, ethnicity. 

we'll see how seattle judges me. i personally think a sourdough-looking person such as myself would be spelled with a 'c.' 

perhaps you'd be interested in taking the s/cheryl challenge as well. 

oh, and, it is fair to note that when i tell those baristas my name is ty, they tooootally pause and judge me. i frequently hide the cup of my vanilla or peppermint latte with a hot-sleeve, as the "thai" or "tai" really offends me. :P 

i mean, come on, people. 

the rubbermaid on my floor is called revelations. i think that means something.

as usual, i'm sitting-dreaming-thinking, of you (collectively). and it seems through these bizarre and dark times of mine, i'm receiving messages in just about everything i do. films, dreams, songs. always a random fragment of a half forgotten memory that i once enjoyed, that doesn't really matter at all. all that matters is that i miss a lot of things/people/feelings. 

but, you know what, i'm done with feeling like shit about myself, or the things that i do or have done. and i'm over listening to those letters that form that tired word—s-o-r-r-y—spill across my tongue as i apologize once again for the something-or-other that happened. to you. to us. 

so, this morning, i woke up with this song in my head—it was your song—your ridiculous alter-ego song that really is no good at all. but it was in my head. and i was forced to pause and recount the odd menstrual dream i had as well, and thought about what the hell it all meant. 

i think it meant it's time to move on with these hard times. move on move onmoveonn. i've got exciting things happening to me. big great things that get wrapped up in small, sneaky boxes with bright crunchy purple ribbons. 

yeah, i'm feeling good today. my hair is not weighted, i'm wearing a warm scarf, and i'm looking forward to talking about the ballard hens and their condos tonight. so random, nothing really matters, let's just get on with our lives. our lovelylovelylives.

stuck.

i want to go back to the way that i felt on june 26 when i wrote this quote down and stuck it to my desk with double-sided tape.

but instead, it's november, my least favorite month. and i'm still thinking about the meaningful look i should have given you—in the kitchen, when i opened the freezer—looking for the waffles i didn't have.

i think about you. every day. in some small way.
i write to you. in my sleep. in between rem cycles and lucid dreams.
i cling to you. when i'm feeling vulnerable. and depressed.
i play with you. at the end of your string. on the rug by my couch.
i laugh with you. when there is simply nothing better, or more amusing, than that moment's something-or-other.
i sleep with you. in the day. and at night. and whenever else we feel like it.
i sit with you. across the table. holding a book and a latte.
so i'll wait for you. to come back to me. and remind me who i am.

meet me on the other side.

the cat woman.

this morning, last night and at least the past four years of my human existence, i've been worried about the very likely possibility that i will become the dreaded cat woman.

oh, you know. the cat woman, who takes up the whole aisle in the grocery store with her very full and very embarrassing cart of cat litter.

the cat woman, who thinks her silent sidekick is secretly learning how to be obedient by responding to commands such as "breakfast" and "bedtime."

the cat woman who refuses to get rid of any fleece blankets, in the event that her choosey friend decides she needs a new (but similar) source of comfort.

but, after a brief moment of terrifying images of stretch pants and overpriced kitty condos, i remind myself that there is still time. i can still snap out of this. i am not destined to high five the small light-orange paw of my four-legged friend for the rest of my life.

at the same time, i quite enjoy all of my quirky photos of pickles in various settings of luxury and play. i really do find it amusing that she is learning tricks and calms to the sound of my voice when i tell her to "relaxi taxi." and i live for the comfort of her reassuring little motor that hums in my ear, every night, at "bedtime."

at this moment, i truly see nothing wrong with being a (cat)lover.

so you can have your small brand named chihuahua bags and truffle-shaped dog treats. and i'll have my pickle.

brilliant is my favorite word.

holy mother of pearl.

i'm chillin here at work and wanted to share some stuff that would deserve an exclamation point if they were to be used in a sentence.

oy. natalie dee comics are so awesome. and i don't think pickles appreciates that this is my new desktop background. 

today's best headline goes to the huffington post.

these wall decals are so much better than actually owning a bird. [um. the noise. the poop.] 

lastly—and most importantly—i'm thinking of taking this word/art class. kind of brilliant. and hey, art school is hot. 

:P

things that could save my life.

this has been a less than perfect year for me. i know this, and by the look on your face, you know this. but, if, deep down, the jolly red man thinks i am deserving of a consumerist pat-on-the-back, these are the items that i hope to hold near and dear to my heart at the end of this holiday season.

two words: crochet cactus.

the mere thought of these accompanying the chia-cat on my windowsill make my heart do cartwheels. and my heart is no gymnast.

a subscription to bust magazine.

it's kind of odd that i don't subscribe already. so it's time.

the new david sedaris book.

because he makes any holiday season a little more bearable. period.

lastly, and most importantly--before you say i'm greedy &/or undeserving--all i really want is this.

next year, i promise i'll be better. and nicer. and i'll share pickles with you. for at least 30 minutes. (she is my bff afterall).

and i will look forward for it. i will look forward for you.

i do love irony.

it seems as if my obama buzz has faded. that's not to say i'm not still dancing inside because our world--my world--is going to change, but i suppose the awe factor has internalized. or perhaps it's taking a little cat nap.

i've been spending a lot of time in other places. mental spaces.
and this sad-sad-sadness has washed away my passion. and spunk--if it ever truly existed.

you know me. at least, i hope you do, deep down.
i am not sitting around knitting a scarf with this lovely, dark and mysteriously forbidden wool. in fact, i despise this wool and what it has done to me.
please.
please.
please.
the irony of all of this--this so-called life that i refuse to admit is mine--is that i just want to be happy. at the end of the day. that's it.

let's forget about tomorrow.
and i'll forget about my scarf.

big hearts for obama.

my kind of celebration. fireworks.

;)

i'm in my party outfit. clearly.
president obama, this is for you.

pickles hearts obama.

barack the vote!

today it's cold and rainy in the 43rd district.
blue blue blue.
at 7:30 a.m. i voted. it was amazing, liberating and exciting all at once.
i have such a crush on obama.