On being cranky

It might be the holiday season that's put me in this mood. It might be working too much, and not getting paid enough. It might be the fact that I'm far away from my family, or losing touch with my friends, or missing out on my nephew growing up. It might be that turning twenty two this week doesn't seem that exciting, or that my work socks all have holes in them. I can't put my finger on it, but something has gotten me into a cranky rut I can't seem to climb out of. I'm going to try some relaxing. I'll keep you posted.

On nothing drastic, and requited love for snow.

It's been way too long since I've done this. I always get grumpy about the fact that not enough people look at this, but it's my own fault for not updating enough. I just forget a lot. Such is life.

I'd like to be able to come back from my unintentional hiatus with some drastic changes, but I have none to report. I've been successful so far in getting through the holiday season unscathed, and things are generally pretty calm in my life. The photo above was taken during my first snowfall here in Seattle a few weeks ago. It snowed for one whole day, and I couldn't possibly have been more excited about seeing my city all covered in white. Even when it turned into ice and I could barely keep my balance while walking to work, my love for snow remained, and still remains, unconditional. I feel it is not unrequited.

On just loving those clouds outside.

I know, I know.

I just said I was learning to appreciate summer-

but that doesn't mean I can't get excited

when the sun starts to frequent my eyes less often, right?

I just love those cloudy skies,

you already know.

On sort of appreciating summertime.

Those of you who know me, know that summer has always been my least favorite of all the seasons. Summer in Seattle hasn't changed that completely, but it's definitely made my dislike of summer shrink a little bit. When the temperatures are mild, I can appreciate the sun. I can appreciate blended margaritas, lemonade, and pineapple mango salsa (pictured above) on hot days. I can appreciate the flowers that are out, and the sailboats on the water. I can appreciate enough hours to pay my rent, even if it means dealing with tons of clueless tourists. Summer, I'm still not your biggest fan, but I sure don't mind you half as much now-a-days.

On cooking

There's something so comforting in finding something you're really good at.

Something you know will be an unwavering go-to when you feel like you're not sure about much else. At the end of the day, cooking is mine. I can sit down with a cook book and create, recreate, measure, stir, bake, fry, and sauté my heart out; knowing the end result is something I can be proud of. Something I can put my confidence into and share with others.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's healthy to toot your own horn sometimes.

Toot, toot.

On just throwing that out there.

Life is strange and hard and so, so good.

I'd like to have someone to share it with,

and some other things

eventually,

you know?

On the smell of home

Last night my bed smelled like the house I grew up in. It wasn't my pillow or my blanket in specific, it was just how it smelled when I laid down. I inhaled, and inhaled to try to pinpoint what it was to recreate it but I couldn't pin it down. Sometimes it's difficult for me to wrap my head around smelling it only twice a year.

But this city is so beautiful, and when I am away from it, I miss it.

On le faux.

When things start going south,

all I have to do is think of drag Britney.

Suddenly, all is okay in the world.

On decisions

There comes a time when you realize the patterns your mind works in. Most people are cautious decision makers who think with their head. People who weigh both sides carefully, and factor in important things, waiting patiently for the correct time and place.

I've learned that I usually just close my eyes, open my heart, and jump in headfirst.

(Don't fail me now!)

On hopeless things and love.

I love the impossible, always.

This time, maybe it's the impossible that loves me.

Maybe.

On sometimes remembering that I'm pretty okay.

Sometimes I make strange decisions, and have bad days. Sometimes I don't pay my credit card bill on time and get homesick. Sometimes I don't sleep enough, don't remember to think before I speak, or read directions. Sometimes I forget to take my vitamins, do the dishes, and call people back.

Sometimes I am really loyal. Sometimes I remember to send thank-you notes, and am really good at listening. Sometimes I am a hard worker, and sometimes I would do anything for the people I care about. Sometimes I am a good daughter, a good sister, a good cousin, and a good niece.

Sometimes when I'm feeling really insecure, I just have to remind myself that I am pretty okay.

On moving closer to the water.

I don't think that I've written yet of my move across town. I just recently moved to lower Queen Anne Hill (pictured on the right of the first picture). I live in a little brick apartment complex with creaky wooden floors and old pictures hanging in the hallways. Grocery stores and delicious ethnic foods are on every corner, and book and record stores are in much to close a proximity to my place of residence for my wallet to handle. I am a few blocks from Kerry Park, where you can walk up the hill and look over the city in all of it's entirety, and a few blocks from Elliott Bay and all of it's shimmering glory. I know I talk a lot about how much I love this city. I must sound like a broken record sometimes, but really... who can blame me?

On savoring youth & winter

Winter is so cozy. Slow, dreary and cozy. Coffee and umbrellas and wearing wool sweaters always make sense. I know soon I'll have to figure out what I'm doing. Plan out my next steps and start putting them into motion, but not for now. For now I will continue sleeping in too late, reading, cooking, and enjoying cable television. For now I will continue living paycheck to paycheck, [and only worrying about it sometimes], continue to fill my lungs with crisp cool air, go on long walks and write letters to friends far away. For now I will just enjoy living life young, and care-free before the hard stuff comes my way. I know it will eventually, I just want to make sure I've lived enough to welcome it.

On missing creaky bunkbeds.

Do you ever find yourself missing strange things? Like the sound of the creaky bunkbeds from the summer camp you went to as a child, or the smell of cigars and air freshener in the back of your grandpa's semi truck? Like the way it felt when you got your cartilage pierced, or the way your mother's robe felt against your tired skin when she embraced you in the morning? Like driving in an '88 Buick on the interstate, listening to the Matches and not being sure if you'll make it to your destination or not? Like family vacations where your dad picks up smoking again and your sister tours rest areas and you play the license plate game?

Maybe it's just me.