May 21

Dearest Bridgett

I'm really happy you were born because if you weren't I would have half as many friends in Eugene and that would be lonely. Happy Birthday sweet friend. I love you!

May 14

     Happy Birthday Grandpa!

     Wishing you many more great years. I love you.

My Beef With Nature

     A good friend of mine once described spring as natures awkward phase. I thought that to be very fitting. It's like a thirteen year old trying on new identities in hopes of eventually settling on one that fits. But unlike a thirteen year old, spring has the world in the palm of its confused little hand. I could have patience with her if she changed by the day. But lately she goes through several identities in the span of fifteen minutes. 

"I'm going for a gothic-depressive meats teachers-pet-dressed-in-her-sunday-best-getting- ready-to-read-to-old-people-before-going-home-to-listen-to-death-metal-and-slice-crosses-into-her-arm-with a-stolen-exacto-knife sort of look." She says.

      To which I reply. "Young lady you are not leaving this house!" Or rather I'm not leaving this house. I know. Of all the reasons one could be a shut-in I choose weather. I can explain: I don't have a raincoat and I don't drive a car. I have a sturdy water-resistant down jacket, but in sixty degrees it's overkill. I would get soaked from the inside by my own sweat. The alternative, which I experienced yesterday while going on a hunt for a raincoat is a sweatshirt. I didn't find what I was looking for and remained a comfortable temperature yet when I got home I was completely soaked. 

     You're probably wondering why someone who was born in the Northwest and has lived in Eugene for over two years (which I refer to as the fluid filled lung of Oregon) doesn't already just have one. I don't know what to tell you. I guess it just never occurred  to me that it might be a worthy investment.

     For what nature lacks in commitment it makes up for in startling beauty. Have you ever seen the black part inside of a tulip? Or the iridescent feathers on a pigeon? Or those monkeys with the colorful faces? For that I can't hold a grudge. I'm going outside.

False Alarm

     Today for the first time since living here the smoke alarm went off. It happened after I took a shower. And having never been properly trained in how to turn off a smoke alarm I fanned at it wildly with a pillow. Although this was the first time I've heard it, it was not the first time the apartment was filled with smoke. Recently my boyfriend Michael was preparing to cook something so he had some oil heating up in a pan. The oil was forgotten about until there was a huge flame leaping up to the ceiling. The smoke alarm was silent. It was a good thing we didn't suddenly decide to go for a walk or take a nap because the entire building would have been reduced to ash. 

     I wonder why one might place a smoke alarm directly outside of the bathroom? Also known as the 'water closet,' water a substance that is said to extinguish fires? Could it be that it's because it's also near the bedroom? Which commonly contains a mattress which is more flammable than a can of gasoline. I guess it comes down to this: Would I rather experience the very unlikely horror of being burned to a crisp in my bed? Or would I rather prevent a fire in a place it's most likely to start (kitchen) and risk the possibility of burning in my bed in the event that I decide to light a giant candelabra and place it on my mattress and nod off? It's hard to say. I do so love falling asleep in candle light. 

The Ring

About five years agoI found a gold ring on the ground. I didn't think it was very pretty but I kept it anyway simply because it was a treasure. Today, on my lunch break I took it to a strictly coins and jewelry pawn shop near the office. The door was locked and the man inside buzzed me in. I showed him the ring and he got out a rough-grey slab, a few droppers of mystery liquid and some old crumpled up paper towels. He scratched the ring on the slab and it left a mark. "yep, fourteen karrot gold." he said. He picked up a magnifying glass and said "it looks like its got four little diamonds. I'd buy it for $100." Cha-ching! Sold. He asked for my I.D, gave me something to sign that says I didn't steal it and then handed me the cash. It was so easy. It takes me a day and a half of work to make that much money. This took me about six minutes.
I was grinning untill I started to feel guilty about it. Some poor woman loses her wedding ring and then I get money. At the time I found it I was tempted to put an add up somewhere, but the problem was that I found it in seattle and I didn't want to sort through tons of people trying to claim it whether it belonged to them or not. I'm hoping that perhaps she threw it out of her car window as she was driving by, maybe after walking in on her husband with another woman. Maybe it was stolen and it fell out of the thiefs pocket. I just worry that by gaining from someone elses loss that god or someone might put a hex on me. I'm scared. But at least i'm $100 richer than I was before my lunch break.

My Big Debut

As some of you may know I've been taking bellydancing for a while now. Recently, I crossed over from the student world to the student-performer world.
Last weekend my teacher took a group of fifteen or so lovely ladies to an assisted living home to put on an epic show. To open the show we pranced around the room in a circle doing simple moves showcasing our startling beauty and brilliant costumes. Then there were four solos (i'll do a solo next time I promise) and finally my momemnt in the sun with the group doing our expertly choreographed drum solo. After knocking the socks off of every last resident with our wave of awesomeness we closed the show with a (I forget the name of it but we stood in a horse shoe while each dancer got to travel to the other end of the horse shoe doing any move of there choice.) I made my way across the floor doing the camel and ended with a spin. I imagine it must have been stunning.
You're probably wondering what I wore. Well I'll tell you. I had a long flowing yellow skirt, a black lace top and a black lace hip scarf. I even got all tarted up with painted toe nails and bright red whorish lipstick. It was pretty amazing. I've decided that it would probably best to live a life of glamour and excess but for now I've hung up my costume and rubbed off my lipstick. I imagine I will unearth it again someday.

Kiss my recession!!!!!!!

Recently my hours have been severely cut at work. I work for a big corporation that prepares taxes and they might do some other stuff too. They say the 'entire district is low' and they can't afford to keep their lowest paid employees which are the receptionists unless it gets freakishly busy. The receptionist, the smiling face at the front of the office that answers phones, makes appointments and manages the unruly waiting room monkies. At this point, the tax preparer has to stop what they're doing when the phone rings which irritates the clients they are currently servicing because they are not paying unreasonable amounts of money to have their tax preparer be a receptionist. Thus, they decide to take their taxes elsewhere the following year.
I thought that I was skillfully avoiding the shit storm that is our economy because I don't own anything of value, like a home. I was wrong. The shit storm has finally found a way to shit on me.