After a bit of a drastic hiatus from writing—everything, not just this blog—I feel as though I’ve finally gotten my life together enough that I can once again start on a writing schedule I can actually stick to. Plus, it’ll give me added reason to get out in my new city and explore, which is entirely the point anyway.
I’ve been in Seattle for almost a month now, and I’d like to think that given my limitations (it's winter, people!), I’ve been pretty good about getting out with Ennis. Sure, walks could certainly be longer, and maybe I should be working on his training more thoroughly (he’s so close to playing dead!), but the guy is taken care of. He is, really. But distractions happen, and that’s life.
Traveling did not suit Ennis well. He is used to long car rides, having gone back and forth from Livermore to Santa Barbara, then to Malibu, and from the Bay Area to Arcata several times—the kid is familiar with the car. But at the same time he never has been quite comfortable in the passenger’s seat, unless he’s sitting on someone’s lap (preferably mine, but any ol’ comfy lap will do). He’ll sit there with his mouth agape, shaking ever-so-slightly, looking tired but refusing to lie down. As a result, his head will just hang slack. He also gets car sick, which is worrisome if you are the only one in the car. I’ve become strangely adept at sensing his oncoming hurls and catching it with something in the nick of time.
But Livermore to Seattle was different. The car ride was sensational. He was quiet and slept like a baby most of the time. He was curious, his head poking out the window when I would open it, but most just watching Kait as she drove. Yes, it was actually quite lovely. Little did I know that trouble was brewing inside my little one’s stomach.
Because he is nervous in the car, Ennis refuses to eat or drink. This is fine, normally, but apparently not when it’s a 12-hour car ride. Also, it probably didn’t help that I changed his food upon arriving in Seattle. What resulted was about a week and a half of chronic diarrhea, which happened without much warning at all.
And so began my exploration of the neighborhood with my pup, as he squirted his way along the streets of First Hill.
Those first days could have been worse, I guess. Sure, it was rainy and wet—even snowy!—and it takes a good 2.5 minutes to put all of my necessary pieces of clothing on in order to take my whining, pooping pup outside to do his business. But at least I wasn't employed! Therefore I could dedicate 100% of my time to making sure Ennis got better—good for him, but mentally draining and unsettling for me. Did I not just spend the last six months doing nothing but looking after this dog? Now he has to go and get the shits on me? Fantastic. What a jerk.
But he came out of it alright, thanks to my savvy internet searches on home-based cures for diarrhea, 'cause like hell I was gonna go find a vet and pay to get the little bugger fixed. Within two days, he was good as new.
Do-It-Yourself Doggie Diarrhea Remedy
First, cut off food (not water) for an entire day. Nothing goes in.
Then (if your pup is small, like mine) follow these instructions. Increase proportionally if your dog is bigger.
- 1/3 cup cooked chicken (try Kirkland brand, canned chicken)
- 1/4 cup cottage cheese
- 1/4 brown rice
- LOTS of water (separate bowl, obviously)
The key is nutrition. Don't worry so much about getting your dog to have solid poops. If he has diarrhea, it's probably because of a lack of water or something unsettling the pup ate. All of the above food is fully digestible, so your dog may not be pooping much at all as a result.
After two days, minimize the amount of fancy food slightly, and add a bit of your dog's kibble. Continue this for a couple days.
This cleared Ennis' diarrhea completely. If it doesn't for your dog, seek a vet's opinion. It's worth doling out the money if it means keeping your dog's runny poops off of your roommate's bed sheets.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
8
I'm taking a break from my normal fare to touch on something very, very important.
With a little less than a month before the election, my attention is slowly being drawn away from defaming television ads, political femme fatales like Sarah "Wink 'Cause I'm An Idiot" Palin and Cindy "The Position of Satan Was Already Filled" McCain who talk so seemlessly out of their asses, and, of course, McCain and all his bullshiting glory.
I absolutely hate doing what I'm about to do because I absolutely believe in jinxing, and I'll never feel completely confident until it actual happens, but I'm just gonna say it:
Barack Obama will be the next president of the United States of America.
But James Carville said it best. "Call in the dogs, piss on the fire, the hunt is over." Or something like that. And it's true. End of story. *insert feeling of uncertainty here*
What worries me now is the threat of Proposition 8. This, of course, is the prop that wishes to overturn the California ruling that legalized Gay Marriage. To vote YES on this prop is to take away this right.
I'm suddenly afraid that people aren't really seeing this as a serious threat. According to various articles, some about Mormons and others about sad sad sad young people, there are huge movements underway to see that this prop passes. It frightens me to no end that something so great for gays and lesbians can all of a sudden be turned over and thrown back in their faces like they are nothing, like their lives and loves mean nothing.
It's been a long time since I've been actively involved in gay and lesbian rights; I feel a little detached from the community in the last couple years because my gay friends have gone off for other things. And even though there are only a few people who read this, for some reason I feel it's necessary for me to reach out and plead that everyone VOTE NO ON PROP 8!!
Tell your friends. Remember to vote. There is a very, very real possibility that this will pass. That cannot happen. It cannot. We can't let this state -- this country -- take another step back, as a result of hate and fear.
Elections must stop being driven by people who are afraid and who judge others.
Remember: Vote NO.
With a little less than a month before the election, my attention is slowly being drawn away from defaming television ads, political femme fatales like Sarah "Wink 'Cause I'm An Idiot" Palin and Cindy "The Position of Satan Was Already Filled" McCain who talk so seemlessly out of their asses, and, of course, McCain and all his bullshiting glory.
I absolutely hate doing what I'm about to do because I absolutely believe in jinxing, and I'll never feel completely confident until it actual happens, but I'm just gonna say it:
Barack Obama will be the next president of the United States of America.
But James Carville said it best. "Call in the dogs, piss on the fire, the hunt is over." Or something like that. And it's true. End of story. *insert feeling of uncertainty here*
What worries me now is the threat of Proposition 8. This, of course, is the prop that wishes to overturn the California ruling that legalized Gay Marriage. To vote YES on this prop is to take away this right.
I'm suddenly afraid that people aren't really seeing this as a serious threat. According to various articles, some about Mormons and others about sad sad sad young people, there are huge movements underway to see that this prop passes. It frightens me to no end that something so great for gays and lesbians can all of a sudden be turned over and thrown back in their faces like they are nothing, like their lives and loves mean nothing.
It's been a long time since I've been actively involved in gay and lesbian rights; I feel a little detached from the community in the last couple years because my gay friends have gone off for other things. And even though there are only a few people who read this, for some reason I feel it's necessary for me to reach out and plead that everyone VOTE NO ON PROP 8!!
Tell your friends. Remember to vote. There is a very, very real possibility that this will pass. That cannot happen. It cannot. We can't let this state -- this country -- take another step back, as a result of hate and fear.
Elections must stop being driven by people who are afraid and who judge others.
Remember: Vote NO.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
The Host — Stephenie Meyer
Leave it to Stephenie Meyer to write something that forces me out of my book review slump. It's been months, and around ten books have gone uncriticized. Hopefully, with summer approaching, this will change.But back to business. Meyer's first book outside of her unfathomably successful (and addicting) Twilight saga, as well as her first novel geared toward adults, has immediately found what I assume will be a lasting home on the New York Times bestseller list. People are unabashedly drawn to this Mormon housewife's thrilling narratives, and it's getting less and less embarrassing to admit it. Stephenie Meyer is taking over the world.
The Host branches away from mere fantasy fluff and into the more socially relevant realm of science fiction: aliens, space ships, a struggle for humans to survive. What sounds like regular, run-of-the-mill 60's Sci-Fi movie plot devices are actually a basis for one of the most interesting and emotional stories about love and loyalty that I've ever come across in modern fiction—fantasy or otherwise.
The plot is as such: An alien race known as Souls come to Earth and take over the human race, using the bodies as hosts. The human minds are extinguished while the Souls—an entirely "non-violent" race—live to rid the world of all violence and sickness. Wanderer, a Soul living her 9th life, but first one on Earth, finds that her host, Melanie Stryder, is unwilling to fade away; Melanie remains as a voice in Wanderer's head, reliving her memories and emotions, forcing Wanderer to develop passionate and unnerving feelings about a past that was never hers. She "remembers" Jamie, Melanie's younger brother, and Jared, the love of of Melanie's life. Wanderer and Melanie become unwilling allies, yearning for the same man, and inevitably Wanderer consents to allow Melanie to lead her in a search for the family she knows are still in hiding.
And that's just the first 100 pages or so. And that is a simplified explanation. The next 500 pages reveal more remarkable characters, along with painfully conflicting kinds of love and loss that make this an intensely thought-provoking book. The Host, essentially, is an ode to the complexity of the human condition. The power of emotions, the strength of family bonds, and the irony of a fight for peace.
The strength of Stephenie Meyer's writing, aside from her ability to tell damn good stories, is how she enables the reader to feel exactly how the narrator does, every step of the way. When Wanderer is in pain, in love, feeling sadness or joy, we are right there along with her, and the confusion in her heart is reflected in ours.
And if you are a woman and you can actually read the last line of page 605 without shedding a single tear, you may not be human. I'm just warning you. I cried, and in the best way possible.
The first part of the novel is a bit slow, as Wanderer and Melanie spend most of the time "alone." And if you're an obsessive fan of Twilight and Bella and Edward, you may be a little anxious for a devotion of that same magnitude to creep out of the pages. Rest assured, it will come, but in a much more profound and human way. The writing really is pretty spectacular throughout—far more advanced than her previous three books, which were clearly aimed towards young and new readers—so I urge you to barrel on through the exposition. As Meyer has said, she "can't tell a short story." This is evident here, but well worth the time. After 200 pages, you won't put it down.
I loved this book. It shows love in a different, more complicated, less black-and-white light than Twilight does (though Eclipse comes close). Read this book and, like me, you'll begin an eager wait for the sequels.
****/*****
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Meditate
I don't pretend as though Oprah and the things she presents to the world don't affect me. I love her (though, and I won't go into it now, I do have my issues with her), and even though she needs to stop acting like Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth is some sort of new concept, I have come to love Eckhart too. (I don't blame him -- how can I? He's ego-less!)
In the Week 5 class for A New Earth, Oprah read this. It's beautiful. Thought I'd share.
"Lost" by David Wagoner
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
It sounds a little like the monologues in my plays. But maybe that's cause the word "listen" is its own sentence. Not sure.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
On the Road, Part V: God Balls! She Was Driving Him Mad!
This is late by about three weeks. During that three weeks, I've pretty much put off writing about anything else going on in my life because I knew I had this stupid, last Road Trip post to finish. I shouldn't be in charge of reporting anything, much less things from my stupid life.
Anyway.
Luckily this last account of our travels up to the Pacific NW involves one straight shoot down the coast and some embarrassingly fan-girl stops along the way (not just for Twilight this time). On our way out of Seattle and down through Tacoma, after eight years of dreaming of it, Kim finally got to see Stadium High (aka. The Brown Castle), where 10 Things I Hate About You was filmed. If I were a teacher, this is where I'd want to teach. DAMN, the world is unfair!
Once again, here we are loitering outside of a high school, THIS time while class is in session. The best part was how, while attempting to find a road around the school, Avaryl spotted two chairs near the dumpster and decided it was necessary—nay, non-negotiable—that she take one home. She wants to get a start on her "Friends"-inspired dining room table.
And all I could think was how Heath Ledger was once here, singing to Julia Stiles across a sea of bleachers. ='(
Moving on. Along the 5, near the border of Oregon, we felt it would behoove us to make one more loitering-stop: Kalama Middle High School—filming location for Forks High in the Twilight movie. And, according to their website, filming was set for that day. So we hauled ass.
Luckily or unluckily for us (take your pick), filming was NOT happening that day. But school was in session, which made us fear for our untarnished criminal records again. Luckily we made it through totally clean, only losing small portions of our dignity.
(I won't even let myself get started on the freak-out sessions that have occurred in the past weeks over the development of this movie... God save me from the Hell I know will befall me come December 12...)
Next, we hit up my dearest friend, Jenn Wood, in Eugene with the intention of staying the night. We had lunch, then got a long-overdue tour of Jenn's home for the past 4 years. But then, given numerous circumstances and realizing that we had a significant amount of time before the day ended, we decided to head further down south to make traveling easier later on. Then, instead of stopping in Ashland like we planned, we made another irrational-yet-in-the-end-very-wise decision to just haul ass home to Livermore.
What followed? Long drive. Loud music. Crappy food. LOTS of coffee. We're just incredibly impatient, is all.
Oh. And how could I forget? The world's greatest (::cough::dreadful::cough::) piece of literature ever: Taming the Barbarian, the romance novel that got us [comically] through our time together. Kim certainly picked a doozy! Considering that the reason to read such novels is for the hilarious, yet hopefully scrumptious, sex, we were certain it would litter the pages from beginning to end. Little did we know that God hates us and our girlie libidos, for the "sexy Scotsman" was just a big pussy pants with an embarrassing inability to make an effing move.
But what did we expect? Eventually we found it was more enjoyable to read the terrible writing and daunting number of similes than actually read about his pathetic, stirring erection—and little good it did him, quite frankly.
I've decided, when I'm making millions writing children's novels, I'm going to write pornographic 'literature' on the side and give it to my friends and family at Christmas time, bound in pink, perfumed paper and tied together with gold pantyhose. Maybe a once-a-year thing, just to keep me occupied. Obviously there are only a few simple rules that need be followed: 1) Use as many similes and metaphors as possible, no less than 10 per page; 2) Set the story in ANY time period that is not the "present"—otherwise known as The Real World; 3) Make the heroine as sexually frustrated as possible; and 4) Never fully deliver.
God balls, I could make a lot of money doing this! I'm an expert already!
With the book finished, our caffeine high waining, and our up-beat music getting slower and slower, we pulled into home, well before midnight, to our disbelief.
And then we passed the shit out.
Anyway.
Luckily this last account of our travels up to the Pacific NW involves one straight shoot down the coast and some embarrassingly fan-girl stops along the way (not just for Twilight this time). On our way out of Seattle and down through Tacoma, after eight years of dreaming of it, Kim finally got to see Stadium High (aka. The Brown Castle), where 10 Things I Hate About You was filmed. If I were a teacher, this is where I'd want to teach. DAMN, the world is unfair!Once again, here we are loitering outside of a high school, THIS time while class is in session. The best part was how, while attempting to find a road around the school, Avaryl spotted two chairs near the dumpster and decided it was necessary—nay, non-negotiable—that she take one home. She wants to get a start on her "Friends"-inspired dining room table.
And all I could think was how Heath Ledger was once here, singing to Julia Stiles across a sea of bleachers. ='(
Moving on. Along the 5, near the border of Oregon, we felt it would behoove us to make one more loitering-stop: Kalama Middle High School—filming location for Forks High in the Twilight movie. And, according to their website, filming was set for that day. So we hauled ass.Luckily or unluckily for us (take your pick), filming was NOT happening that day. But school was in session, which made us fear for our untarnished criminal records again. Luckily we made it through totally clean, only losing small portions of our dignity.
(I won't even let myself get started on the freak-out sessions that have occurred in the past weeks over the development of this movie... God save me from the Hell I know will befall me come December 12...)
Next, we hit up my dearest friend, Jenn Wood, in Eugene with the intention of staying the night. We had lunch, then got a long-overdue tour of Jenn's home for the past 4 years. But then, given numerous circumstances and realizing that we had a significant amount of time before the day ended, we decided to head further down south to make traveling easier later on. Then, instead of stopping in Ashland like we planned, we made another irrational-yet-in-the-end-very-wise decision to just haul ass home to Livermore.What followed? Long drive. Loud music. Crappy food. LOTS of coffee. We're just incredibly impatient, is all.
Oh. And how could I forget? The world's greatest (::cough::dreadful::cough::) piece of literature ever: Taming the Barbarian, the romance novel that got us [comically] through our time together. Kim certainly picked a doozy! Considering that the reason to read such novels is for the hilarious, yet hopefully scrumptious, sex, we were certain it would litter the pages from beginning to end. Little did we know that God hates us and our girlie libidos, for the "sexy Scotsman" was just a big pussy pants with an embarrassing inability to make an effing move.But what did we expect? Eventually we found it was more enjoyable to read the terrible writing and daunting number of similes than actually read about his pathetic, stirring erection—and little good it did him, quite frankly.
I've decided, when I'm making millions writing children's novels, I'm going to write pornographic 'literature' on the side and give it to my friends and family at Christmas time, bound in pink, perfumed paper and tied together with gold pantyhose. Maybe a once-a-year thing, just to keep me occupied. Obviously there are only a few simple rules that need be followed: 1) Use as many similes and metaphors as possible, no less than 10 per page; 2) Set the story in ANY time period that is not the "present"—otherwise known as The Real World; 3) Make the heroine as sexually frustrated as possible; and 4) Never fully deliver.
God balls, I could make a lot of money doing this! I'm an expert already!
With the book finished, our caffeine high waining, and our up-beat music getting slower and slower, we pulled into home, well before midnight, to our disbelief.
And then we passed the shit out.
Monday, March 31, 2008
On the Road, Part IV: The House of Yes I'll Take a Restraining Order With That Lemon Meringue Pie
We'd had pretty excellent luck on our road trip by the time we'd reached Seattle. We got free lodging and a show in Ashland, a rain-free, comfortable stay in Forks and Twilight-filled goodness, and a money-saving ferry ride o' fun.
OK. It would be unfair to say our luck ran out in Seattle: we still got free lodging (for two whole nights) and were hosted by mostly entertaining folks (whom I'm pretty sure live on another planet, but that is neither here nor there at this juncture)...
Basically, Avaryl's cousin John (or is it Jawn? who knows...) graciously housed us during our time there (albeit, in a cold basement on couch cushions), and he is kind of like people I knew in high school, x10. He and his friend, Tom, make authentic (I think?) costumes ranging from Japanese samurai pants to leather battle hats to big-sleeved tunics that smell like chivalry from... Make Believe Land? They were preparing to sell their stuff at a Comicon-like event in Seattle, so stress was bouncing off the walls. Plus, loads of eccentricity and dorkiness and philosophizing about various video games. It was certainly an experience.
[This picture is Marcus, Tom and John... in the sewing room... possibly unsure that Avaryl is carrying a picture-taking device.] Like I said: Dorks just like my friends, but multitudes stranger.
But then there was the issue of, well, Richard.
I won't go in to what was wrong with this Richard, but we'll just leave it at this: Creeper. Already awkward people just shouldn't be allowed to drink, especially when it's obvious they aren't around girls very often. It's like, "I'm fine without another hug, thanksamuch, and no, I don't want to take a shower in your shower with the broken door." I'm just glad that Av, Kim and I could all agree on him. By the time we did, and our nervousness at this man's presence (and bedroom not 25 feet from where our girl-bodies slept) had been established, we remained focused on the festive-attitude in the house. And John's effin-incredible lemon meringue pie.
We spent our entire one full day in Seattle downtown exploring. Mostly Pike Street Market, which was rockin' awesome. Too much shopping. Too much food. Too much standing around, looking at fish, which, I guess, is the entire point of the Market in general.
I didn't know fish could have tongues the size of pillows. The world is full of surprises.
Not sure what to say about the Market... it involved walking, talking with the nicest vendors on earth (they don't hassle you or anything!), and looking at things we couldn't afford and buying things we didn't need. At one point Avaryl and I banned ourselves from entering anymore used bookstores. They're just unhealthy environments, is what it comes down to.
We had plans to go to the aquarium ('cause, octopuses yo!), but they charged $15. Who has $15 to spend on seeing animals when it can otherwise be spent on coffee? We used aquarium-time to sit around and soak up the rarely-seen-by-Seattle-folk sunlight. And to paint each other's nails.
We knew we should have gone to actually do things in the city, but Tully's Coffee looked so inviting, and coffee sounded so good, and there was a fire inside, guys! So we relaxed and read instead.
The only regrettable part of the day was paying $21 for 6 hours of parking. It hurts just thinking about it, so I'm moving on...
Going to the big places as the last stop on a long trip usually results in driving by the various sights and refusing to get out and pay to experience them like normal tourists. So, with the help of our trusty TomTom, we navigated ourselves around the city, through Capitol Hill (the only place I can fathom living -- realistically -- in Seattle), then around the Space Needle, through Queen Anne and back to John's house. I'd like to think we saw all there was to see.
Except for the bookstores. Oh I love books...
Seattle was nice, but given our lack of direction and the unfathomable size of the city in relation to our time there, we can't say it was worth leaving Forks for. I mean, it was, but Forks... well, we loved Forks. Unfortunately, most of our driving-around-Seattle consisted of us saying "I miss Forks"... though, that could have been as a result of the extreme shift in sleeping arrangements.
Damn, I slept well in the Temperpedic bed in Forks... *sigh* How different it is in the freezing cold floor of a Seattle basement during the butt crack of early Spring.
Seattle is a great city, but it is, well... a city: good parts, bad parts, all that hoodlum, overpriced fun. I'm still considering moving there (I know I will someday), but for now I'm feeling certain a plan of some kind will be necessary before uprooting my poor, jobless ass two states north with no support group of any kind and an already health-threatening addiction to coffee and books.
And I'm too lazy and shy to live alone in a city. I'll become a hermit, despite all hopes to the contrary, and wind up like.... Lyssa! (Don't even ask -- we'll just say that she's the tenured professor of Depressing 101 that acts as the "mother" of John's house of men.)
Anyway. I'm fairly certain we were all looking forward to the long, loooong, looooooooong drive home that was set for the next day.
This is a road trip, after all.
OK. It would be unfair to say our luck ran out in Seattle: we still got free lodging (for two whole nights) and were hosted by mostly entertaining folks (whom I'm pretty sure live on another planet, but that is neither here nor there at this juncture)...
Basically, Avaryl's cousin John (or is it Jawn? who knows...) graciously housed us during our time there (albeit, in a cold basement on couch cushions), and he is kind of like people I knew in high school, x10. He and his friend, Tom, make authentic (I think?) costumes ranging from Japanese samurai pants to leather battle hats to big-sleeved tunics that smell like chivalry from... Make Believe Land? They were preparing to sell their stuff at a Comicon-like event in Seattle, so stress was bouncing off the walls. Plus, loads of eccentricity and dorkiness and philosophizing about various video games. It was certainly an experience.[This picture is Marcus, Tom and John... in the sewing room... possibly unsure that Avaryl is carrying a picture-taking device.] Like I said: Dorks just like my friends, but multitudes stranger.
But then there was the issue of, well, Richard.
I won't go in to what was wrong with this Richard, but we'll just leave it at this: Creeper. Already awkward people just shouldn't be allowed to drink, especially when it's obvious they aren't around girls very often. It's like, "I'm fine without another hug, thanksamuch, and no, I don't want to take a shower in your shower with the broken door." I'm just glad that Av, Kim and I could all agree on him. By the time we did, and our nervousness at this man's presence (and bedroom not 25 feet from where our girl-bodies slept) had been established, we remained focused on the festive-attitude in the house. And John's effin-incredible lemon meringue pie.
We spent our entire one full day in Seattle downtown exploring. Mostly Pike Street Market, which was rockin' awesome. Too much shopping. Too much food. Too much standing around, looking at fish, which, I guess, is the entire point of the Market in general.I didn't know fish could have tongues the size of pillows. The world is full of surprises.
Not sure what to say about the Market... it involved walking, talking with the nicest vendors on earth (they don't hassle you or anything!), and looking at things we couldn't afford and buying things we didn't need. At one point Avaryl and I banned ourselves from entering anymore used bookstores. They're just unhealthy environments, is what it comes down to.
We had plans to go to the aquarium ('cause, octopuses yo!), but they charged $15. Who has $15 to spend on seeing animals when it can otherwise be spent on coffee? We used aquarium-time to sit around and soak up the rarely-seen-by-Seattle-folk sunlight. And to paint each other's nails.We knew we should have gone to actually do things in the city, but Tully's Coffee looked so inviting, and coffee sounded so good, and there was a fire inside, guys! So we relaxed and read instead.
The only regrettable part of the day was paying $21 for 6 hours of parking. It hurts just thinking about it, so I'm moving on...
Going to the big places as the last stop on a long trip usually results in driving by the various sights and refusing to get out and pay to experience them like normal tourists. So, with the help of our trusty TomTom, we navigated ourselves around the city, through Capitol Hill (the only place I can fathom living -- realistically -- in Seattle), then around the Space Needle, through Queen Anne and back to John's house. I'd like to think we saw all there was to see.Except for the bookstores. Oh I love books...
Seattle was nice, but given our lack of direction and the unfathomable size of the city in relation to our time there, we can't say it was worth leaving Forks for. I mean, it was, but Forks... well, we loved Forks. Unfortunately, most of our driving-around-Seattle consisted of us saying "I miss Forks"... though, that could have been as a result of the extreme shift in sleeping arrangements.Damn, I slept well in the Temperpedic bed in Forks... *sigh* How different it is in the freezing cold floor of a Seattle basement during the butt crack of early Spring.
Seattle is a great city, but it is, well... a city: good parts, bad parts, all that hoodlum, overpriced fun. I'm still considering moving there (I know I will someday), but for now I'm feeling certain a plan of some kind will be necessary before uprooting my poor, jobless ass two states north with no support group of any kind and an already health-threatening addiction to coffee and books.
And I'm too lazy and shy to live alone in a city. I'll become a hermit, despite all hopes to the contrary, and wind up like.... Lyssa! (Don't even ask -- we'll just say that she's the tenured professor of Depressing 101 that acts as the "mother" of John's house of men.)
Anyway. I'm fairly certain we were all looking forward to the long, loooong, looooooooong drive home that was set for the next day.
This is a road trip, after all.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
On the Road, Part III: The Curse of the Broken Windshield Wiper
We have been blessed, thus far, with close to no rain on this trip. We're in the Pacific Northwest, for Jeebus' sake! The Olympic Peninsula—the rainiest place on earth! But during our time traveling (heh...) up to Washington and our exploration around Forks, we stayed dry. Shocking, I know, but true.That is, until today. =/
And, imagine this: our windshield wiper decides it wants to kill me with an aneurism by making a metal-scraping-against-glass sound every time it moves… in the pouring rain. I try and pull out my Eckhart-Tolle-A-New-Earth-knowledge about how the wiper doesn’t mean me any personal harm by making the sound of devil worshippers, but I just can’t seem to stop my face from contorting with pain at the sound of it. And our music just can’t go loud enough.
Oy. Anyway, now we’re traveling, moving from Forks towards Seattle—a strangely long trip to a place that’s not that far away. Damn those big mountains and expansive forests and big, huge bays. The drive up the 101 (then to the 5 North) takes you up around the Olympic National Park (which is effin’ huge, I might add), through Port Angeles (we’ll get to that in a sec), down around the other side of the Park, through Olympia, up through Tacoma and then into Seattle. I mean, anyone ever hear of a bridge??
But we decided to take the road less traveled: A ferry. We’d never been on a ferry before—one that takes your car along with it, so we thought “Hell! Why not?!” And when it costs nothing to travel on it, and only $12 for your car, who could argue??But first, Port Angeles. Yes, another Twilight stop. We’re unsure how Bella could get lost in this town, but whatever—that’s fiction for 'ya! We didn’t get Italian food (please, we’re not THAT lame!), but we did spend a reasonable amount of time in the used bookstore. I never need a reason to buy books, especially when they're used. But we refrained from taking pictures. We'd had enough of small-town locals looking at us like we're insane.
The town is adorable. I really, really like it, and with ferries that take you right across the bay to British Columbia, how could it be a bad locale? There are worse places to live, lemme tell ‘ya.
So, the drive from Port Angeles to Seattle (via the route I mentioned above) takes about the same amount of time as taking the ferry from Bremerton to Seattle. But that would be an hour of not driving and not wasting gas, so it would be worth it. So much so, we didn’t even feel like fools when we got to the ferry an hour early for the hour-long ride and the guy at the toll looked at us like we were crazy-folk and said, “Uhh... you know, it would be faster to drive.” Psh! Eff-that, toll guy—we’re takin’ the ferry!!It was a good choice. And the sun came out! The sun likes it when we don’t pollute the earth with our car.
The view of Seattle coming across the water was well worth the not spending money and time driving. Such a magnificent skyline! Plus, Avaryl got to enjoy her sodium snack, a.k.a. Cup’o’Noodles.Despite the sun coming out, I knew our luck wouldn’t last. My one mission for the entire day was to go to Red Mill Burgers in North Queen Anne (a super nice district of Seattle and where I would totally live someday, had I money of any kind), and try the #17 burger on GQ’s list of the Best Burgers in America (I have mentioned this list many, many times before). But they were closed. It was, I dunno, Easter or some crap like that. And they wouldn’t be open on Monday, just my luck. So I missed that boat.
Then we got to our lodgings in Seattle, courtesy of Avaryl's cousin, John. Um... I'm thinking this story would be better-suited for the next post.
Until then.
On the Road, Part II: Side Effects of Book Reading May Include Loitering
After much excitement and a year of anticipation, it finally happened: I got to see Forks. LIVE! In-person! And, with me, I had the people who I blame for my exposure to this damned place, as well as the last year (and subsequent ones) of insanity and pathetic ineptitude: Kim and Avaryl.
And, after everything, my initial reaction was... Huh. That was it: Huh. The unsure feeling was a little intense. On the one hand, Forks is extremely exciting, because it's where Twilight is set, and it has become so iconic in my mind, even though it's just from a silly book, and the entire day of exploration was filled with comments like "Dude, this is where Bella and Jacob met!" and "The Cullens hunt in these woods!" and "Edward sped on this road, bitches!"
Yes. All of those phrases, and countless others, were uttered unapologetically throughout the course of our time here. And you know what? SO not ashamed.
On the other hand, Forks is a very depressing, run-down little town. One little main road (interestingly enough, the 101), surrounded by a prison of trees, with dilapidated houses and shops and buildings scattered about like a Monopoly board once a five-year-old has thrown it on the floor after realizing it's the world's most pointless game. Yes, it's described that way (though, perhaps, not that exact phrasing) in the books, but seeing it all was a little bittersweet. Everyone we saw in town, we immediately pitied them for being stuck here, but at the same time were a little jealous of them and wanted to find out what it was like to live in a town where a book like Twilight is set.
We have a sickness. Severe and, I fear, irreversible.
But that was all at first. As soon as we saw our resort lodgings, we relaxed. It is, without a shred of doubt, the greatest place I've ever stayed. I love it so much (as Avaryl and Kim have not stopped hearing me proclaim), I can almost not stand it. We had a little apartment-like suite, right on the Quillayute River—simply the most beautiful location in Forks. There were only five other suites on the property, only two of which were in use.
It was serene and lovely. In celebration, our first night, we barbecued. Accompanied (responsibly) by an entire bottle of wine. Yum-O.
In the morning, starting off our full-day of Forks fun!, we relaxed, took our time, made breakfast and coffee, then headed out for Rialto Beach—just down the road from our hotel.
I've never enjoyed a beach so full of rocks and driftwood before. It was like retarded children let loose on their first playground. And their parents were stupid enough to let them use a camera!
Oh, the excitement. Plus, I found the raddest walking stick ever, so that baby is gonna be sanded, polished and carried around with me more often than necessary, in all likelihood.
Then we made our way to Sully's Drive-In, obviously the happenin' place in Forks. I resisted the urge to order the "Bella" Burger (with pineapples and special sauce!) 'cause I didn't want people to think I was some fan or something! I mean, embarrassing....... We then toted our little burgers and fries to the Quileute Reservation (that's right—where Jacob lives!), wandered our way to First Beach, located the perfect log (you know... the log!) and had our lunch.
Other than talking about Twilight, the only thing left to do was soldier over the mountain of driftwood (why people chop down trees when it is clearly falling from the heavens and washing up on shore is beyond me) and be thankful that there was no rain... just the grayest, saddest looking sky on earth.
I don't think we talked about anything but Twilight, to be honest with you. If we did, I don't remember it, so it doesn't matter. We were practically handed a gift-wrapped opportunity to talk about the books and the characters without shame or embarrassment and no other witnesses but our sad, obsessive little selves. And we opened that fool-package, right quick.
(You think this hurts to read, but imagine the pain of actually writing all this, not to mention the embarrassment of not being remotely embarrassed by it. We're all allowed a vice.)
The day rounded off with an excursion down the highway to the Hoh Rain forest. We drove, stopped, took pictures, harassed an elk (whom we lovingly named Laura—apparently they don't acknowledge you when you yell, "Hey! Elk!"), hiked down a mini-trail, and avoided paying any type of fee. Eat that, Olympic National Park rangers!
The great thing about road-tripping here is that there are so few things to do; there is no need to plan out the day to a T, no need to make sure you have enough time. Just go with the flow, and that's what we did. We spent the night in the apartment, soaking up our last night of comfort and warmth.
I'll say it again: The Quillayute River Resort is a STEAL! The greatest locale in the Pacific Northwest (not that I really know much of anything), and I will be coming back someday for a week of writing and reading and sitting around.
It's what Forks was clearly made for.
I guess the scariest part of our trip in terms of our insanity is how, the next morning, before saying "goodbye" to Forks, we went all over town, down most of the streets, in search of all the places "talked about" in the books.
We had to have pictures. We had to dub things appropriately, and we all had to agree. We also had to find the places we already knew existed, which, obviously, didn't take any searching so much as it took diligent coasting/camera abilities.
We found Bella's house near the woods (notice the red truck!), the hospital, the sporting goods store (we ignored the lack of the actual name), and Forks High School (above). I think of all the places, Jacob's house on First Beach (left) is my favorite, 'cause it's just too perfect. There's even a garage in the back!
We're sad, pathetic loiterers. I'm honestly surprised we weren't arrested. The simple fact we aren't actually IN most of these "hunting" pictures just goes to show you how truly lame our drive-by tendencies were. (And it doesn't stop in Forks, I'm afraid.)
I love this place. I love it. I love everything. No, I wouldn't want to live here—at least, I wouldn't want to raise a family here or grow old here or anything (too many trees!) but I want to come back all the time.
It's the feeling. What else can I say?
And, after everything, my initial reaction was... Huh. That was it: Huh. The unsure feeling was a little intense. On the one hand, Forks is extremely exciting, because it's where Twilight is set, and it has become so iconic in my mind, even though it's just from a silly book, and the entire day of exploration was filled with comments like "Dude, this is where Bella and Jacob met!" and "The Cullens hunt in these woods!" and "Edward sped on this road, bitches!"Yes. All of those phrases, and countless others, were uttered unapologetically throughout the course of our time here. And you know what? SO not ashamed.
On the other hand, Forks is a very depressing, run-down little town. One little main road (interestingly enough, the 101), surrounded by a prison of trees, with dilapidated houses and shops and buildings scattered about like a Monopoly board once a five-year-old has thrown it on the floor after realizing it's the world's most pointless game. Yes, it's described that way (though, perhaps, not that exact phrasing) in the books, but seeing it all was a little bittersweet. Everyone we saw in town, we immediately pitied them for being stuck here, but at the same time were a little jealous of them and wanted to find out what it was like to live in a town where a book like Twilight is set.
We have a sickness. Severe and, I fear, irreversible.
But that was all at first. As soon as we saw our resort lodgings, we relaxed. It is, without a shred of doubt, the greatest place I've ever stayed. I love it so much (as Avaryl and Kim have not stopped hearing me proclaim), I can almost not stand it. We had a little apartment-like suite, right on the Quillayute River—simply the most beautiful location in Forks. There were only five other suites on the property, only two of which were in use.It was serene and lovely. In celebration, our first night, we barbecued. Accompanied (responsibly) by an entire bottle of wine. Yum-O.
In the morning, starting off our full-day of Forks fun!, we relaxed, took our time, made breakfast and coffee, then headed out for Rialto Beach—just down the road from our hotel.
I've never enjoyed a beach so full of rocks and driftwood before. It was like retarded children let loose on their first playground. And their parents were stupid enough to let them use a camera!
Oh, the excitement. Plus, I found the raddest walking stick ever, so that baby is gonna be sanded, polished and carried around with me more often than necessary, in all likelihood.
Then we made our way to Sully's Drive-In, obviously the happenin' place in Forks. I resisted the urge to order the "Bella" Burger (with pineapples and special sauce!) 'cause I didn't want people to think I was some fan or something! I mean, embarrassing....... We then toted our little burgers and fries to the Quileute Reservation (that's right—where Jacob lives!), wandered our way to First Beach, located the perfect log (you know... the log!) and had our lunch.
Other than talking about Twilight, the only thing left to do was soldier over the mountain of driftwood (why people chop down trees when it is clearly falling from the heavens and washing up on shore is beyond me) and be thankful that there was no rain... just the grayest, saddest looking sky on earth.I don't think we talked about anything but Twilight, to be honest with you. If we did, I don't remember it, so it doesn't matter. We were practically handed a gift-wrapped opportunity to talk about the books and the characters without shame or embarrassment and no other witnesses but our sad, obsessive little selves. And we opened that fool-package, right quick.
(You think this hurts to read, but imagine the pain of actually writing all this, not to mention the embarrassment of not being remotely embarrassed by it. We're all allowed a vice.)The day rounded off with an excursion down the highway to the Hoh Rain forest. We drove, stopped, took pictures, harassed an elk (whom we lovingly named Laura—apparently they don't acknowledge you when you yell, "Hey! Elk!"), hiked down a mini-trail, and avoided paying any type of fee. Eat that, Olympic National Park rangers!
The great thing about road-tripping here is that there are so few things to do; there is no need to plan out the day to a T, no need to make sure you have enough time. Just go with the flow, and that's what we did. We spent the night in the apartment, soaking up our last night of comfort and warmth.
I'll say it again: The Quillayute River Resort is a STEAL! The greatest locale in the Pacific Northwest (not that I really know much of anything), and I will be coming back someday for a week of writing and reading and sitting around.
It's what Forks was clearly made for.I guess the scariest part of our trip in terms of our insanity is how, the next morning, before saying "goodbye" to Forks, we went all over town, down most of the streets, in search of all the places "talked about" in the books.
We had to have pictures. We had to dub things appropriately, and we all had to agree. We also had to find the places we already knew existed, which, obviously, didn't take any searching so much as it took diligent coasting/camera abilities.
We found Bella's house near the woods (notice the red truck!), the hospital, the sporting goods store (we ignored the lack of the actual name), and Forks High School (above). I think of all the places, Jacob's house on First Beach (left) is my favorite, 'cause it's just too perfect. There's even a garage in the back!
We're sad, pathetic loiterers. I'm honestly surprised we weren't arrested. The simple fact we aren't actually IN most of these "hunting" pictures just goes to show you how truly lame our drive-by tendencies were. (And it doesn't stop in Forks, I'm afraid.)
I love this place. I love it. I love everything. No, I wouldn't want to live here—at least, I wouldn't want to raise a family here or grow old here or anything (too many trees!) but I want to come back all the time.
It's the feeling. What else can I say?
Saturday, March 22, 2008
On the Road, Part I: The Rules of Subaru Tag
People in Oregon are nice. The people who are driving, the people who are walking past, the people who are pumping your gas. This is interesting, considering the intensity with which the cloud-cover can shift and how depressing the condition of so many buildings seem. A little state where developments and cities are rare.The kids here must want to shoot their brains out.
The expanse of trees is breathtaking, and its strange to know it only gets greener the more north you drive. And if the people continue to get nicer, I may start freaking out a little.
Maybe its all just a facade for depression? Maybe it's just an ignorance about how terribly mean people can be just a few states southward? Either way, I think Europeans need to come to Oregon and learn a thing or two about customer service from the pump-guy at the Shell station off the 101. (But dudes, gas is effin' expensive enough without me having to tip the guys for pumping it -- which, of course, I do and will continue to do, 'cause duh... But still: I'm poor.)Obviously our drive is meant for picture-taking -- we are desperate to not be skimpy on pictures. Here is me in the land of Stand By Me (actually, it's Shasta CA, but whatever -- the train tracks are there.) And there was some snow, too.
This place is all kinds of ready for our arrival.
Even the bottom of the Pacific Northwest is an entirely different country than California -- though NorCal tends to be... You know. People are courteous drivers. L.L. Bean and Northface and Dock Martin are the designer labels of choice.And everyone drives a Subaru hatchback! (Hence our new road game, Subaru Tag -- Avaryl is sooooo winning.)
Our first day was pretty great, just to up Ashland, so I'm used to the drive. The very hospitable Chris Kong let us invade his little "cottage" and even got us comp tickets to see Altar Boyz at the Oregon Cabaret Theatre. The show is a fine satire of hip-hop and Catholicism. A fabulous night at the theatre, save for some retarded people.
Two great performances can't always make up for the dreadful ones. Oh well. C'est la vie. At least Chris was incredible, as to be expected.Driving now, through the wilderness that is Oregon and oh-so-very-close to Washington. Headed directly up to Forks: an entirely different type of wilderness. Mr. Joe Gunn (reportedly) has so plainly asked, "Who goes to Forks?!" Yes. Who, indeed. Apparently Twilight-obsessed fan girls with too much time on their hands and an odd fascination with photo-opportunities.
People are going to think we're freaks, but you know what? WHO CARES! We'll just avoid the locals at all costs. But we are not ashamed. Future updates will further reveal this.
Two thumbs up for Oregon. Despite some places being a prime location for a pick-ax, slasher movie (what the hell is up with the Enchanted Forest?!? 'cause inquiring minds want to know!), the state is beautiful. Amazing what trees can do to spruce a place up.
Heh... see what I did there? Hey! Subaru! *smack*
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