just dance.

it's funny how we change. (or don't change.)

if someone asked me if i dance, i'd probably say no. but really, if you get enough alcohol in me and put on something catchy, i totally do, dance. 

i remember when i entered my first after school dance setting. i was in nebraska, in 6th grade, and totally clueless. attempting to sway to the rhythms of everyone else's beat, i faded in-and-out of those awful 'who let the dogs out'-'macarena' clusters. 

later then, once i became more confident in my lyrical sway, i began embracing my rebellious femininity. sneaking out, pretending we were going to the movie theatre for the second time that weekend, my friends megan and tiffaine and i would dart off to the 16-and-over club in kirkland. dynamite was this super sketch place that should not have allowed us innocent little girls into. but it was definitely one of my most ridiculous memories from those high school days. 

while i'm clearly not a girly-type girl these days, back then, silver hoop earings were a must. and, the tighter the jeans, the better. i remember this black lightning bolt shirt i would rock and think i was the shit. i must have looked like quite the little azn. so funny. 

and nowadays, while my bumping and grinding days are long gone, i have been known to, on occasion, make an appearance on the dance floor at r place. well, of course with at least one vodka tonic, a couple of rounds of darts and some britney, bitch. 

so perhaps we change and maybe we don't. but there are some things, such as scuffed up converse and alcohol-impaired memories that are items i'd like to hang onto. 

as for the lightning bolt shirt. i'm not so sure. 

lust. dot com.

i have this strange fascination with personal ads. perhaps it's the combination of writing something quirky about yourself in 200 words or less and the repetition of clicking refresh-refresh-refresh on your email browser that keeps me loyal.

i got my first computer when my mom trucked me, unwillingly, to the rolling plains of the midwest. my best friend shared my first weeks with me in our new brick rambler, complete with a tornado-proof unfinished basement and pool table. 

michelle, my bff, introduced me to internet chatting, yahoo! and, essentially, the world-wide-web. in those days, internet was not a way of life like coffee or flintstones chewable vitamins at breakfast. in fact, i remember the struggle of keeping my monthly internet consumption to 100-hours, as that was our rate plan back before unlimited was all the rage.

anyway, michelle and i would spend hours (in closely regulated increments, of course), chatting with jamie-somebody's-in-north carolina and imhawt4u-16-m-tx. spending time with these distant yet comforting strangers perhaps made me feel less alone once michelle went back to washington, but also curious about the differences between my life and those on my online buddy list. 

during the four years i somehow spent living in nebraska, my online habits continued, yet slowed as real life friendships took over. 

now, at 24, my heart still gets a little giddy when i hear one of my friends has a w-seeking-m post on craigslist. or when i sit in my room, and listen to the laughter in the other room of two girls who met on match.com. 

i suppose it's only natural then, that i would want to spend my life thinking about these lovely possibilities that the internet offers. and it should be no wonder that i enjoy the sound of my keys clicking methodically on my macbook, forming frisky little something-or-others on my blog post. 

so, what's next, you ask? i'm not sure. i can imagine this obsession weaving some kind of magic or inspiration in a grad school application essay, or more simply, continued to be explored in all-too-familiar word docs disguised as personal expression in the wooden chairs of capitol hill coffee shops. 

until i figure out the hows-the-whys-and-the-wtf-does-this-all-really-mean's, i think i'll continue to sit here, in my comfy bed, browse the craigslist i saw you ads and listen to the laughter in the other room. 

sometimes, at work.

i get so satisfied when people you don't expect to get you, get you. i shared one of these moments recently with a co-worker. one year ago i would have cringed at the thought of investing time in building such work relationships. but now, while i do feel more satisfied with the way i spend my 8-5, i'm also much more attached to the people i nod at while i re-fill my coffee cup in the too-tiny kitchen. 

this co-worker of mine was genuine and real. and she wasn't at all bothered like i assumed she would be when i told her how a small piece of me died when i attended her diversity-something-or-other work function. in fact, she looked me in my slightly-nervous eyes and said she was disappointed too and respected my feedback. 

so while there may be no point in trying to save the sometimes-oblivious and overly-eager-to-understand-elitists that i spend my days drafting one-pagers for, other things, such as human connection, are blossoming. and that might just keep me holding on, glancing at the top of the pyramid, for a bit longer.

untitled list from that one time last year.

dear blog, i am sorry i did not post you until now. you feel familiar.

--

1. dreamt up black and white fragments. sarcastic phrases in bold faced fonts.

3. broke a promise to myself. dear blog, i just cannot censor you. so i'll change my intentions.

7. sorted through once loved items. placed them into boxes i wished were smaller, more attractive.

7. endured the first funeral for myself—sitting on the floor—of my wonderfully silent capitol hill apartment.

8. lived. as the word 'therapy' paraded out of my mom's mouth.

4. questioned happiness. in all its relative seduction.

[x]. accepted life. a new life. for my self and my sanity.

10. remembered. how it feels to be close to you, lying in bed, on sunday morning.

the bachelor and facebook.

so on friday i got a bizarre voicemail from the owner of the company saying he wanted me to join him in a meeting in 30 min. friday being the super busy day that it was, made me instantly irritated and confused with this request, and i approached him asking what it was all about. after several longish pauses and awkward distant glances, he mentioned something about a "bachelor" and how we were going to talk to this bachelor soon. 

i quickly realized it was the bachelor that is viewed monday's on abc. gross that i know this, but google is my bff. 

nonetheless, after a couple of girls fluffed their hair and checked their makeup in the event that the bachelor may glance their way, whip a rose out of his jacket and call the whole reality-tv-thing off, i met this so-called bachelor. it was bizarre, and i've never been involved in such a meeting disguised of business and pleasure. and having never seen this single suitor on tv or elsewhere, i found him yes, overly tanned, but definitely tv-charming. 

oddly enough, after this 30-minute meeting, i've exchanged a couple of emails with him and his partner. while i won't get into what our meeting entailed, i offered a tacky-yet-hilarious suggestion for facebook for his business plan, which gets me to my second point.

i'm back on facebook. i spent around a year talking shit about it and not missing its presence in my online social networking pastimes, but i'm totally digging it now. let's just forget about those people who i find in my friend list that i don't even recall sharing conversations with, because whatever, that's beside the point. i still don't even get why or how i can play the oregon trail with my network or wtf a hottie rating is. perhaps i'm just not meant to be a facebook pro. is it time to say goodbye to myspace though? i mean, that little notifications icon on the lower right nav bar is my fave feature and possibly the only reason i'm so hooked. 

ehh. i still need to work-proof my facebook or create one of those limited profiles. i wouldn't care, but my group membership in "vagina motherfuckers" may be seen as unprofessional to some. 

diversity day.

it sounds like such a cliche, but a week ago my work had a diversity/cultural "training" workshop. it was the same ole, which brought me back to my college days of sitting in a circle while the loud people spoke out about their disparities, wisdom, whathaveyou. 

as just one of three "people of color," i felt nervous and intimidated to join my ultra-PC-elitist colleagues. i didn't want to hear them talk about the things that i assumed they knew nothing about—the things that feel so close to me. but i did it and it was okay. just okay. 

i mean, these sort of issues are intense. they kick my ass. call me narcissistic, call me a thinker. i have these issues. and i love them. not love love, but love them. they make me whole. they make me fucked up. and even though i'm happy these days, these 23 days of january, i'm still clinging to that familiar handle of pessimism. 

anyway. diversity day. the moment that is fixed to my memory like a price tag that refuses to remove itself from a new paperback, is when we were numbered off and placed in a circle, face-to-face, and forced to give each other compliments. why is giving or receiving compliments such a task for me? i am cringing just thinking about it. my compliments were inadequate and not as thoughtful as they should have been (for certain people). 

so, i'm kind of sad about that. and as a gay, asian, adopted, blah blah, half-glass-empty kinda girl, i say hello. and don't put me in a box. 

the taste of january.

since my last post, i've allowed my hoofs to step forward, with ease. and rather than dreading how that next gulp of anger will feel after its defecated on my tastebuds, i've been breathing deeper. fuller. 

the wound has healed and now a tight little line sits on my paw like a smirk. who would have thought it would take a serrated knife to cut through my anguish. 

last night, as we swooped down 65th toward our comfortable "studio," i admitted how much better i felt. it's interesting to step back and listen to yourself talk candidly about things that others take for granted. things that i will take for granted again in a couple of years, assuming this isn't just fakery. 

and rather than those intense solo scornful-face-making-competitions in mirrors, i've been drafting my mental list of "plans" for this year. so far, i hope to: check out local happy hours and music venues, continue to hunt around for the perfect latte, adopt more plants to fill the larger space and convince pickles to become more active.

 

perhaps a festive color-coordinated sweatsuit will entice her. she's bound to cause double-takes in an earthy green or pink. i can hear it now, the neighborhood cat who i occasionally spot in the front yard will meow in the window, as if to say, "damn pickles, you are tearin' it up."