my head is a box full of everything

So, two major updates: 1) I'M GOING TO NEW ZEALAND IN 15 DAYS to celebrate the wonder that is our favorite Kiwi, Mr. Cameron Death, before he leaves us for, um, Los Angeles. It is just now sinking in that we will be Cammy-less in a month which for me means a) there will no longer be Perez Hilton interludes in the Microsoft dinner conversations (I may not survive) b) I might actually start having to, like, hang out with my boyfriend and stuff c) no more night eating stories d) Seattle will be that much less tidy and scented-candled. In fact, Seattle might actually smell completely different without Cameron and his artillery of scented candles. God, it's going to be miserable. 2) My wonderful and financially irresponsible boyfriend bought me a PIANO for my birthday. A friggin piano! It's electric, which I had always kind of wondered about ... but friends, let me tell you, I am in love. She is beautiful. She SOUNDS beautiful. She also has a headphone jack (important when you live in a small apartment and your boyfriend is tired of hearing Chopin). The problem is, I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. I'm at work and all I think about is this piano. I just want to go home and play it. It was strange, the first night I got it I couldn't do a thing, and then the other night, all of the sudden, my fingers just REMEMBERED how to do it. And now I'm Pathetique-ing all over the place. I forgot how much I miss playing music! I did it for so many years and then didn't do it for so many years. It's very therapeutic. Oh yeah, there is also a 3) Keep your eye out for my fight with a fellow Seattlest writer about why Portland > Seattle. Should be up today or tomorrow. And then all of you Portland peeps best be chiming in. Support the homeland.

wtf

I KNOOOOOOW. it's been a long while. it's been a crazy summer. see pictures. more to come. now that fall is nigh and i will no longer feel guilty nesting in my apartment, the posts are gonna come more frequently. today is the first day of bumbershoot (which i have somehow missed every labor day for the past six years) and I'm goin' in style: con press pass. no lines! check out my bumbershoot diary (and other things) here: http://www.seattlest.com

snippets from seattle

so it's a little stuffy, but you won't hear me complaining about the sunshine. instead, here i am trying to make my own balcony (aka climb out the window); here are my tomato plants getting huge and fruity; here is what happens to a 1lb chocolate bunny when your apartment hits 90 degrees; here is my walk home from the grocery store. t'aint half bad.

a fighter

i like to think of myself as a pretty stalwart being. Someone with dukes! Someone who can fend shit off! My mother seems to think i am made of puppy sneezes and tissues, however, illustrated by the fact that everytime I leave the house, she tries to arm me with some sort of self-defense tool. It's usually mace, and it's usually attached to a keychain, but this last time she shook things up. Tried to pawn a small flashlight with the most godawful siren you've ever dreamed of hearing. There are at least 37 million reasons I don't take these things (come on, I live in SEATTLE. people aren't dangerous, they're just weeeeird.), not the least of which being, I am my usually own worst enemy. So much so that a few years ago when my aunt sprayed herself with her own mace, I was actually relieved that I hadn't done it first. The siren would have been a disaster. I would have reached for some trident in the middle of a harry potter movie, flipped that thing on and scarred a theater full of 7 year olds for life. Me hurting myself is way more probable than some skeeze waking up from his stupor long enough to steal my bus pass. Truth. "Olive, I don't appreciate it when you put your butthole on my hand." - Me, to my cat, just now Good night.

one fourth

in one 72-hour period, i lost the entire contents of my computer's hard drive (one and a half years' worth of pictures, writing, projects) and my boyfriend (one and a half years' worth of everything). and no, it doesn't feel apropos. it doesn't feel like a "clean slate." it feels, rather, empty.