[I would like to be you, just for a few habit-forming years]

The ocean held nothing but sand and fog too thick to see or even touch the water. Pea soup fog... you know. I'm not sure what I expect these days. I guess it's just that I have expectations. Little shiny fingers of hope waving me towards the coast, a friends house, a party, a coffee shop- they crumple up as soon as I arrive. White knuckles from a tauntingly taut grip. Whatever, we'll move to whatever is next and place all our redemption into that. It makes sense... at this point.

Tyler is all fever dreams and clammy skin. No barnacles though, unfortunately. I have been lying next to him trying not to give him little neck rubs, attempting not to encourage all the toxins in his body to release and seep next into me. I am anticipating it nonetheless, encouragement or not, these days my immunity to anything is pathetic. Besides, I welcome the bed ridden inevitability of it all. Sweat soaked sheets with ginger ale and cough syrup- it all sounds soo romantic, doesn't it? Of course it does. of course it does.

[coffee sex]

I'm not sure what coffee is like from where you are but out here it is everything and everywhere. At least every half block there are drive-through espresso stands. Sometimes there are two. In the city everything is sit down but in the suburbs we are %65 drivethroughs and %35 cafes. The best part is that the majority of these places are really delicious. With nearly every drivethrough serving coffee from roasters like stumptown, dillanos, whidbey island c.c., zoka, etc, how could they not be?

What's been frustrating is that over the last couple years there have been so many lingerie stands and cafe chains popping up. I guess it was only a matter of time before cafes and drivethroughs brought in sex, the natural next step. Off the top of my head I can think of Best Friend Espresso, Cowgirls, Hot Chicka Latte, Natte' Latte', Sweet Spot Espresso, there are more with less catchy names. These stands have raised floors so that the customer is at crotch level with the barista. Some of them have theme days but mostly it's lingerie or bikinis. Up until recently girls were allowed to wear g-strings and pasties... The times I've had coffee from any of these places it has been disgusting. Burnt shots to say the least.

As a barista it's been really obnoxious to have men constantly come up to our stand and ask us when we're going to have "Thong Thursday's" or have them harass us constantly about not being a sex stand. I've had several customers go into detail about how girls will bend over for them while wearing skirts with no undies. These cafes bother me because I get harassed the more there are of them. There are a lot of other reasons I don't like them but this is what effects me the most.

Are there sexy coffee houses where you live? Is this just a N.W. thing? Maybe I could move away from it... it groses me out. I am always spilling stuff on myself and using my half apron, nearly naked would be such a pain.

[Currents]

Currently:
A little land sick and cold


Current Book:


Current Album:


Current Film:

(I don't know what that guy in the corner is about but this is one of my favourite stills)

Current shame-inducing guilty pleasure:

In the last couple weeks I've forced myself back into drinking coffee and loving it and now I'm addicted to it again. I was just so bored at work I didn't know what else to do. Soy french vanilla lattes, iced for now though preferably hot.

Current Link:
http://michaelianblack.typepad.com/

Current Drink:

Over ice. The more generic the better.

Current fetish:


Current wish list:

and sleep kisses

and


Current Song:


Current Triumph:

giving slightly less of a fuck about being fat

Current celebrity crush:
(pretty much always)
and


Current indulgence:

wearing pants as little as possible.

Current excitement:
a wild weekend at the ocean

Current Mood:
(puddle lovey)

[Pretty excited]

I have six new mosquito bites and they all itch right now at the same time. I thought you should know. By the way, they are all from the same ambitious mosquito. Apparently we have some sort of close relationship. A love/hate thing probably. As it always goes.

Tomorrow I'm going to see Michael Ian Black at my favourite book store. I'll even see my sister. Maybe I'll eat some cake for good measure. This has got to be a great day and I think cake would probably top it off. From the Honey Bear of course. Yumm.

[and everything]

It is only 12am and I am thinking about going to bed. My hips are sore. Not from sex... in case that's what you were thinking; I wish.... anyway, from the gym. I had my personal session thing that they set you up with when you first join or whatever. The woman I spoke to really wanted me to lay out some sort of concrete goal, essentially x amount of pounds, or if I was really cool xx amount. But I wouldn't do it. I continually told her that my main reason for joining was out of boredom and because I had been a member prior to moving and had enjoyed that.
She went into nutrition. It was hard to hold my tongue. I didn't want to hear it. She emphasized that I needed to be hyper-aware of what was going into my body and the way those calories were used. I was so calm. I don't want to be. I am practicing knowing less. Caring less. She asked me on a scale from one to ten my dedication to my health. This question is too long and involved to be on a scale. I told her '7' but knew I was lying.
I know she was simply doing her job but it still made me sad.
We took my body percentage using very scientific methods and then looked at some one size fits all chart. Almost as cool as looking up your bmi... (whatev). I was in the 'acceptable range. It goes like this 'essential, athlete, acceptable, unacceptable.' She told me that she was also in the acceptable range but if I lost this much weight I could be in the 'athlete' range. Which apparently, she thought was wear I should be heading.

I worked out for a couple hours and then came home and cleaned up the boys' mess from the night before. Which makes sore hips. There's the point. I feel like an old lady today and have already prayed a million prayers that I don't get osteoporosis when I'm 30 and that my joints hold on for a little longer. I also took a million more vitamins than normal. baby prayers with each swallow. My legs are so bruised lately. Iron supplements anyone?
Boring. Sore hips.

tomorrow, I think, squid making. Much more exciting.

[and all the while]

I just wanted to say that my hair looks nice today. So there, that's all.
(shiny and bouncy and perfectly placed, straight out of bed....)

[Real Fun]

Sad Elizabeth is so boring. There is little less boring than hearing about being sad. I don't mean to be so dull: I woke up, I cried, I took a shower, I cried, I got dressed, had a panic attack, I went to work and I was hyper-anxious for 5 hours. Boring, boring, boring. But hey, look at me- I am showering and that's big in all sorts of ways. It being a million degrees out is certainly a large factor in this. Thank goodness.

Work was very, very slow today (again... always) and the only way to really pass time is to talk excessively with whomever one is working with. My co-worker told me a million fascinating stories about things in his life. My stories are not interesting, they mostly involve being sad and knowing other sad people, and generally all these depressed people hate their bodies and are trying to destroy them in some way or another. Not neat, not really what people share. This is what I've got though. Mixed in with even lesser interesting stories about the ebbing and flowing of friendships. Sometimes we get drunk and do something silly, sometimes we make pinatas. This is what I've got.
Mostly though, aside from the depression, I like my life. So it's okay, just poor for work exchanges. Whatever...

Today I came home and played with a baby and a mustache handkerchief- now that is real fun.

what the pharasies don't see

I wish I wrote this. Maybe I did (I didn't). I wish I could sing like dave bazan. when I sing along I unintentionally (now) sing out of the corner of my mouth. On purpose I squint one eye. Sometimes I think this will help my singing ability. My sister tells me it's hindering more than I realize. I'm sticking to it, maybe someday I'll be able to carry a real tune. Until then, I can pretend I'm right there with him:


The Fleecing, David Bazan

Deep green hills whose shoulders fade, into the gray tall wet grass.
Whose flesh makes fools of grazing sheep, whose fleecing makes a fool of me.

And who shall I blame for this sweet and heavy trouble?
For every stupid struggle?
I don't know.
I could buy you a drink.
I could tell you all about it.
I could tell you why I doubt it, and why I still believe.

But I can't say it like I sing it.
And I can't sing it like I think it.
And I can't think it like I feel it.
And I don't feel a thing.
Oh no - I don't feel a thing.

And who shall I blame for this sweet and heavy trouble?
For every stupid struggle?
I don't know.
I could buy you a drink.
I could tell you all about it.
I could tell you why I doubt it, and why I still believe it.
And why I need it.
And what the pharasies don't see.

And we'd have more drinks. We'd speak of so many things.
But I don't know you, and you don't know me.

[steps forward and all the way back]

What happened? I was hopeful, or some variation of that, maybe with a twinge or two (or three or four) or melancholy. But oh, I was hopeful. And ready and and excited, and the positive adjectives go on and on. I thought 'oh, it will be this easy once I get there.' It was all work and preparation for something better. It was workbooks that made me sad and giggle, it was a summer therapist, and careful calculated moments to keep me above floating level. I was well into walking for goodness sake. I was barely touching the water with my toes, I wasn't even wading.

I should have kept it up. I see that now. All of it being quite pointless if one stops taking anti-psychs/depress' regularly, stops speaking thoughtfully to an objective person once or twice a week, stops planning perfectly nice things that could not fail in making me happy.

Now I am all back at the beginning- the fucking ocean. Stupid, trite hands all flailing and my gargled voice, probably yelling at myself. I thought foolishly that the momentum of change would carry me. I believed with all my little depressed body parts that love and everything nice would be some sort of cure-all. Or at least be enough. How many times have I told myself it is beyond love? that as beautiful as it would be, clearly, historically, it has little to do with enough love. I just... I wanted it to be simpler and I guess I got lazy. I didn't want to be having to work so painfully hard every day. I didn't want to cry hysterically in my sleep every night from exhaustion. It's too silly and everyone says so. But where else do we go? and you know I mean me, where else do I go. Because this is really just me in the ocean alone. And you on the sand, your feet all warm and soft from it. I'm not jealous, just sad- again.

[diagonal sleep]

This married life ebbs and flows. You know that though, right? I'm not surprised but when one gets caught in tides it's easy to get nauseous.

Today we lied around in our undies and giggled (still) excessively at Stella (actually, we love the skunk tails...). At some point in the afternoon we napped and woke up with heat headaches. Clearly the only way to remedy this was beer or swimming. The beer was warm on the kitchen floor so we opted for a close second and hopped in the shower. Now, maybe I'm one to be a tiny bit modest and not share my shower escapades but let me tell you, this was straight business. I felt like we should have been wearing ties or shaking hands at the end. All hair washing and soap and cold water. No hanky-panky in the least. The heat must be making us lazier than I realize. It was probably the most formal shower I'd ever taken with another person (and now thinking about it, have I ever taken a shower with someone else? ...maybe not, definitely not another boy, maybe when I was little? At any rate I'm sure they were a great deal sillier). I will try to make next couple shower sillier. Although we probably won't have another unless we get double shower heads- we are both pretty whiney about being the dry one.


Later we went to a friends (newly married!) and bbq'd and watched a dodgy bootleg copy of Iron man, complete with people walking in front of the actual theatre screen. For some reason the dvd stopped working about 3 minutes prior to the end but we made good guesses about what happened next (death and destruction- possibly followed by love making and little robot babies). Oh how I miss everything on vhs.

anyway, I think I'm have asleep typing this. that nap clearly was a joke because my eyes are fuzzy and it's just barely 1am. Tyler's playing halo so i better get some quality center of the bed time in before he hops in and decides to sleep diagonally. such is love.

Things I am excited for

July is packed full or quality events:

This coming weekend Martha, Tyler, and I are going to Marymoor park for some kickass shows:



Then On Sunday Martha and I's bff is having her baby shower: (did I mention I took a ton of baby bump photos of her last month? well, here's one)


Then MIB at third place! only the greatest book store ever.
Time: Tuesday, July 22, 2008 6:00 p.m.
Location: Third Place Books LFP
Soon after that is Harry and the Potters and Nuemos, a show involving crafts and wizards, does it get any better? Tyler and I will definitely be attending. Third summer in a row!


And then, most importantly. My dearest mermaid sister's 20th birthday! I am sooo excited. She has to get all her teen angst out over the next couple weeks.

[July 4th]

Home from work right before midnight. Busses running on a Holiday schedule- once an hour; still late. This house is empty for the weekend. Besides cats. Besides glasses of wine. Besides me. Yesterday was awful. I had felt hopeful but now all practicality in me has been replaced with this crushing feeling. I'm practicing breathing- it helps. My stomach is in knots.
I do not mind. There are probably an amount of I told you so's going around. Tomorrow I'm going dowtown and will pretend I don't exist. It's easier to do with hundreds of people surrounding you.
it's okay though. It's okay.

It's okay.

Nothing Aquatic

Bee's find my body
but here they do not sting.

-------------------------------
I've decided to delete this blog. clearly. We are starting fresh here, whatever that happens to mean. Farewell old posts.