Adventure in Urban Living #452

The bus stop at Westlake Center.

So for the first time this year, I am taking the bus to the Eastside. I'm actually blogging on the 520 bridge, which is good because I'm discovering a new way to make The World's Longest Bus Ride less boring and more productive. So of course I decided to take the bus last minute, and of course instead of selecting the route time that would have given me more time at home before leaving for the stop I opted for the route time that was cutting it juuuust a little close but would be totally worth it if I could make it.

And that's where my perfect sunny Seattle afternoon began to go downhill. Adventure in Urban Living #452 follows...

So, I rush out the door, hauling my overnight bag and the dog and begin to hightail it to the stop. As the stop is only 10 blocks away, this should be an easy trip. However, I immediately get stuck behind a trio of "girls" sauntering along the sidewalk, the kind of anti-society adolescents covered in men's wear and worn jeans with markered Converse tennis shoes who band together and tell each other they don't care what boys or those preppy cheerleaders think about their weight over Hostess Cupcakes and Cokes every afternoon and whose bitterness leaves them unaware or uncaring that I am in an obvious hurry and trying to pass them on the sidewalk. Also, the reason I'm unable to pass has to do with the fact that Baylor is straining toward the planter boxes with every step, which I ignore as he's already gone twice today and anyway we don't have time to stop.

Finally, at a widening of the sidewalk I am able to pass and have just gained enough ground to where I think we might actually make it when Baylor stops dead in the middle of the street, hunches over and begins to go #2...right in front of a popular fine dining restaurant AND right across the street from my luxury hotel. I practically choke the dog in my frantic efforts to drag him to the planter box, but by the time he gets there he is already done. I turn around to clean the mess and am wickedly delighted as I see that one of the same frustratingly oblivious girls I had tried to pass has just stepped in the poo. Reveling in my urban retribution, I finish cleaning up and race off again, just 2 blocks short of my goal.

However, my sidewalk victory is short-lived as I arrive at the stop and realize that karma has bitch-slapped me once again, as I have missed my bus.

So, I am forced to stand at Westlake for another 30 minutes waiting for the next one, amongst exactly the kind of degenerates and unsavory urban individuals I tried so hard and unsuccessfully to avoid by rushing in the first place. I'm not being cruel - it's a major freakshow down there. Case in point: while I am waiting I am talked at by a crazy man who is muttering unintelligable profanities, the dog is rushed by 3 overeager teens who frighten him so that he snaps (which I praise quietly) and one seemingly normal-looking gentleman walks toward us as if to say hello...and thens stomps and claps in my face as he walks by (it's worthwhile to note that it wasn't just me he did this to). And this wasn't even the busiest of days at the stop.

Baylor contemplates chasing pigeons before boarding the 255.

At the end of the day, it could have been worse. I'm on the bus now, warm, and am being transported to my destination for a mere $1.75. And really, what do I expect? This is pretty much how it always goes - just another PA (personal adventure). But perhaps next time, we'll cab it to the bus - just to be safe.

Nostalgia

I want to be here.

There are so many reasons I have Mexico on my mind, but ultimately it's my upcoming trip to Phoenix that's brought this on. I started thinking about the life I had in Arizona, and a little bit of it is coming back to me every day that I'm closer to being there, including everything about the many trips to Mexico. A wave of memories and nostalgia has hit me and I can feel this place, smell it and taste the salty, humid air and in my mind I'm there already. This photo may not portray the image of paradise for many people, but for me, there are few places in the world I'd rather be - a narrow view given my limited travel experience. But I think, at the end of the day, this place feels like home - and I wish I could be there again.

Success & Other Lofty Dreams

I've been thinking a lot about success. I don't even know what it means. I don't know when I'll know that I've achieved it, because I can't define it. I've been kicking around a couple of ideas, jokingly, with friends - but the other day, I started wondering why we were kidding around so much, when we could so easily turn our ideas into reality. With a little application, dedication and narcissism (harder to come by than the former two) we could potentially be as "successful" as anyone else out there, if only by our own definition of having given our ideas a shot.

Probably by anyone's standards (particularly in a recession) I've achieved a measure of success - but I don't feel it, or see it. There's always something more I could be doing, and somehow the hardest part is not actually completing the task but finding the motivation - and I don't know why. Why is it so difficult to just get moving and put a couple of ideas in motion? I think it's that the gap between my own definition of my success and the perceived level of success achieved by others is so great that to reach that "other" level seems completely out of the question, and thus causes me to quit before I've started.

I've got to stop thinking that, and just get started. Here's the thing: I don't know where to begin.

Change Has Come to America

I am:
happy
excited
exhilarated
moved
thoughtful
reminiscent
and
in awe.

The winds of change blowing through this country are warm, strong and bear on their currents a hope that I'm not sure I'll see again in my lifetime. Regardless of party affiliation, race, gender or color of skin, Americans today can and should rejoice in their freedom as citizens of the United States of America and embrace their ability to speak, act and live that freedom without fear of persecution. It is an historic day, and I thank my fortune to be a citizen of this fine country, and a proud supporter of our 44th President. Welcome, Barack Obama.

There's a Reason I'm Not an Artist

I hate my blog colors and layout, so bear with me while I try out new looks. I've been overly obsessed lately, as I feel the color scheme and design should be reflective of my personality - and, discovering that I can't find any one look that feels truly "me," I've been a little bummed out, because I feel like not being able to hit the nail on the head with my blog design reflects an indecisive and uninspired persona.

Perhaps my ever-changing blog more accurately represents me than I thought.

Luck & Delightful Surprises

On my morning walk with the dog last week, I saw this stick on the ground:


To me, it looks like a wishbone. So naturally, I tried to make a wish and pull off one of the tines, and discovered after much concerted effort that it couldn't be done. It would have been easy to think of that as unlucky - I made a wish, which by superstitious definition now cannot come true because I did not manage to pull off the bigger (or "lucky") tine from my wishbone stick. But I chose to think of simply finding the wishbone stick as a positive occurrence in my day. It wasn't about the ultimate outcome (a wish coming true) but more about what level of importance I personally placed on the situation. For example, if I think I am "lucky," then I will manifest luck in my life by simply recognizing positive events, which I choose to call "delightful surprises". A delightful surprise is can be anything - saving $1.50 on bus fare when someone offers you a ride instead, or finding a full bottle of shampoo in your cabinet just when you thought you were out (and running late). Delightful surprises are everywhere, in forms big and small, and when you have a positive mindset they can be overwhelming in their abundance.

I used to think I was unlucky - I always caught the catfish when my brothers and sister were bringing up silvery salmon, and I never found money on the ground the way my younger bro is prone to do (even now). But in my adulthood, I've realized that when we were fishing as kids, I always had less patience than everyone else (choosing to read a book rather than jig the line), which is why I never brought up the big one. And I never find money on the ground because I always look up or around me instead of down. So there's no lack of luck in my life, only a lack of dedicated attention when it comes to searching for dirty dollars on the city streets. I choose to find delightful surprises in every day - they might not come in the form of a tasty fish or loose change, but they're out there, if I only I am diligent in looking for them.

Succincticity

"Succincticity" isn't (obviously) an actual word; however, if it were, I think the definition would go something like this:

su-ccinc-ti-city: brevity of description and phrasing for optimum clarity of communication

Which, in itself, would be an oxymoron of descriptions, as clearly the description above is neither brief nor particularly clear. Which amuses me, as I created it. Sometimes I enjoy being deliberately obtuse. (Also, note that you couldn't even make this word in Scrabble - there aren't enough C's.)

Here's the thought of the day: sharper, clearer, more directed communication. This stems from several conversations I've had lately in which I've felt rather good about the dialogue at the time, and have second-guessed the hell out of my intended (or perceived) meaning after the fact.

So. I will attempt to shorten the content of this blog moving forward, for several reasons - but mostly because if I have something to say, I may as well get to the point.