My Room

This is a description of my current room, formerly Eddie's room, and formerly no one else's (his family bought the house new).

The bed is soft and comfortable, with a tan bed cover and a teal comforter. I think the bed is a queen, but don't quote me on that... maybe it is a double or a twin? It is very comfortable for one person, and spacious enough for two people who like each other.

There are two bedside tables, both with lamps, but I only ever use the lamp closer to the door. The lamp by the window, in a corner, looks sad. Below the sad lamp is a picture Dick took of me on our five-day hike along the John Muir Trail in the high Sierras. I am sitting down near a stream refilling a water bottle on our second-to-last day. It is a serene spot.

On the bedside table with the frequently used lamp, there is a load of other stuff. First and foremost, my trusty, annoying alarm clock. The time reads 9:02pm, and I just set the alarm for 6:00am in hopes of a sub job coming my way early tomorrow. Also on the table is my cell phone, which will probably start ringing around 5am if a sub job is available. I probably don't even need an alarm clock, but just in case. Sitting on the table between the alarm clock and my cell phone is a glass, and that glass is filled about 2/3rds of the way up with Guinness... now 1/2 of the way filled with Guinness. I bought Tyler an 8-pack for his birthday party and decided to buy myself an 8-pack as well.

Underneath my cell phone on the bedside table are two books: "Another Roadside Attraction" by Tom Robbins, and "The Assassins Gallery" by David L. Robbins. I finished Tom's book last Friday, and it was real good. I haven't really started David's book, but I found both in the same section of fiction at the library... under R.

There are a few receipts on the table. The one from Safeway is doubling as a coaster for my glass of Guinness. Nail clippers are nearly hidden from my view, but they are on the table as well. A rock with a piece of rope tied around it is also on my bedside table, a gift from Eddie, and I don't know what I will do with it. Rounding out the bedside table items are: an empty Coors beer can, an empty Blue Moon beer glass, my bulging wallet, the book "Mostly Harmless" by Douglas Adams (in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series), the book "So Long and Thanks for All the Fish" also by Douglas Adams (same series), the book "The Having of Wonderful Ideas" by Eleanor Duckworth (a book from my teaching program), and my keys.

My keychain (in counter-clockwise order):
A bottle opener with the FCB logo (Football Club Barcelona)
A key-chain scanner for the Snohomish Public Library
My parents' house key
Eddie's house key
Motorcycle key
Honda key
A key-chain scanner for LA Fitness

There is a big pillow in the corner of my room where the door opens. It is one of those pillows people snuggle up to at night, a body pillow? But now it is a humble wall pad to stop the door from slamming the wall.

On the inside doorknob hangs my swimsuit, interweb out. On the ground between the door and my bed (which is about four feet) lies my jacket, my backpack, and a hamper of clean clothes yet to be put away. There would normally be dirty clothes in this spot.

In another corner of my room (opposite the unused lamp), the Southwest corner, there is a wicker chair, which I have never sat in. It holds my late grandmother's two cat quilts, made by my aunt. There is a blanket and my ski bibs hanging off the chair's left arm, and there are various papers in the seat of the chair. There is also my brand new neon yellow beanie in the seat of the chair.

Another side table to the left of the chair is filled with stuff. I see a pink piggy bank, that I know is filled with all coins but quarters. A zip-lock bag next to the piggy bank is filled with only quarters. A canister of Airborne sick flu tablets. A candle (haven't used). Batteries. Car air freshener trees. Check book. And a jar of pens.

Motorcycle helmet and gloves on the ground between the table and the walk-in closet. Along with two empty water bottles.

Walk-in closet has clothes in it. And boxes. I'm starting to wane, so I'm going to leave it at that.

Fourth corner of my room, the NW corner, has yet another little table, this one with a plant that I can't tell if it is alive, dead, or plastic. I am leaning towards alive because it looks like the plant is in a vase of water. I haven't watered it in the three months I've been here. The plant spirals upwards with a very skinny trunk and leaves near the top. It looks kind of like an electric coil.

Along the north wall is the widow, shades drawn. The east wall has a picture I never look at, because it is above the bed. South wall is the door and one small framed picture of Toronto, which Eddie left in the room. West wall is where the action is, with two small framed pictures and a larger framed mirror, about 4x as big as the pictures, squarish with a length of about 2.5ft.

All the walls of the room are painted a color between tan and teal, but I can't figure out what it is. The door frames are both wooden color, and the doors are white.

The ceiling has a smoke detector near the door and a nice lamp with a swirly design int the glass in the middle of the ceiling.

The Guinness has left the building. Time for bed.

Driving To And From Work

My first day teaching up in Everett was today. The day went well, substitute teaching was great, but the most memorable part of the day was during my drives to and from work. I don't know if I've ever driven I-5 north of Seattle at 7am before, but the stretch just south of Everett is majestic. The freeway is elevated, and to the east is a long valley of farmland, flanked by the rugged Cascade Mountains. This morning, the valley was completely covered in a thick layer of fog. From the freeway all I could see was a blanket of fog, then the sharp peaks of the Cascades, back lit by the sun, and nothing but blue sky.

On the way home, I caught the sight again, without the fog, and with the mountains front lit instead of back lit. Not nearly as breathtaking, but still beautiful. The drive home provided a weird encounter with a spider. A tiny spider. This tiny spider appeared a few minutes into the drive, slowly walking across the dashboard of my car. Right in front of the steering wheel. It was just kind of chilling out, enjoying the ride. I was fine to let it chill on the dashboard--better on the dashboard than dangling from the ceiling above my head. The spider kept making its way towards the open window, then scurrying back to the middle, seemingly scared of the gusting wind. I enjoyed the show as I drove, and then I wondered if I put my finger out, would it climb on? I touched the side of the dashboard, making a bridge for the spider with my index finger. The spider stopped. It didn't run away, and then, not two seconds after I had placed my finger on the dash, it walked onto my fingernail. I had not thought about it actually climbing up my hand. I freaked out and flicked it out of the window. I felt bad about it afterwards, but I don't think I'll lose sleep over it. I had not intended to kill the guy, and who knows, he could still be alive and kicking, but the experience was very odd.

The Novice (Ch. 1)

The second-story studio apartment had not been cleaned for months. The urine ring around the toilet was all the proof one needed, but the dirty dishes in the sink, the clothes strewn about, and the blob asleep on the hide-a-bed sofa added to the ambiance of the apartment. Stan is not in a happy place. His fiance' broke off the relationship in May, citing that he had "changed too much." It is now early August and unemployed Stan's Seattle apartment complex (along with nearly every other domicile in Seattle) does not have the air conditioning to combat the record heat wave scorching the Pacific Northwest.

Stan grudgingly wakes up a few minutes after noon on this forecasted record-breaking Wednesday. The shades are still drawn, but the heat is pouring into the room, and Stan is finding the sofa too sticky to stay asleep. He swears to himself as sits up on the sofa, blood and last night's whiskey rushing to his head. After a minute sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands, he manages to stand and makes a bee-line for the bathroom.

Between Stan and his porcelain throne sits Stan's faithful 20lb cat, Herbert. Herbert perks up at Stan, who for all Herbert knows may be rushing to fill his empty food bowl in the bathroom. Unfortunately for both human and feline, Stan does not see Herbert on the floor, camouflaged amongst the dirty clothes of the past month.

Herbert lets out a howl. Stan lets out a howl and a string of curse words as he crumples to the floor. Stan notices Herbert limping away and feels sick to his stomach. Sickness to his stomach, combined with the bile already forming in his mouth from his adult headache, causes his mouth to erupt like St. Helens.

When the World Ends

We both lead incredibly busy lives. Between all of the different hats each one of us juggles, we rarely have time to sit and contemplate life. Where are we going? Where do we want to be?

Sometimes I envision myself with someone else. What would my life be like today if Lisa and I had never broken up? How different would my kids be? Would my sex life be better or worse? Would I be happier? I don't tell you about these thoughts, because they are just day dreams.

Soaking in the hot tub with you, vacationing out at the coast with the kids asleep, finally gives us time to talk. No more talking about how our days went. No more talking about the weather or Matt's baseball game. Talk about us.

You really do want that job in California. I know you've talked about it before, but life always seems to get in the way of us talking about it. Yes, the move would be difficult, but if it is really what you want to do, I support you. I love your strength and desire. I do enjoy living here, but a change of scenery would be nice, and now that I know just how much you want this, I think we should go for it.

Bartender

I sit at the end of the bar, alone. I've been sitting on this stool for the last six hours. We broke up today, and I did not see it coming. Everywhere I look in this town, I see our ghosts smiling together.

I am drinking to forget, but every drink I remember another special moment we spent together. Sadness, anger, happiness... and now I'm at indifference. I wonder what you are thinking. I wonder what is next.

Writing Project

I am beginning a writing project based on the Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds "Live at Radio City" performance from 2007. There are 27 tracks to the performance, and I intend to use each track to create a 1,000 word maximum writing sample. I think each writing sample will stand alone, as each of the songs do, but once finished I may be able to compile them together. The title of each post will be the name of the song, which will also be the title of the writing sample. If I can find the tracks on YouTube, I will provide the performance at the beginning of each writing sample.