Morning time for most people in this city is the same: shower, blah blah, coffee. I'm not unlike any of you. I ride the metro, I go green, I try hard to avoid the 'duck' and the underground tour, I get my A.M. caffeine.
I noticed late last year that this whole "non-fat" phenomenon is getting to be a staple in coffee shops. I'm also not going to lie:
I order non-fat.
Behind the woman on her cell phone, ordering a non-fat, no foam, three pump vanilla iced grande latte. Directly in front of the all too modern man, dashing into starbucks on his break from picking out Balenciaga bags from Barney's for his "girlfriend", to order his iced venti quad non-fat mocha. I've yet to sound that cool. I order simply a tall non-fat. You can't really say: "I'd like to have a tall please". There is no question that the barista would then ask "a tall what?". You would feel stupid.
It just sounds cool.
You also don't want to be the fat kid in elementary school. The fat kid in elementary school's Mom knows that their kid is 'the fat kid' and gives them the biggest lunch ever. And they eat it. Ordering regular milk in coffee is pretty much the equivalent. If you do it long enough, you get to like the taste.
Well, sort of.
A question to my fellow non-fatters out there: Do you really buy non-fat milk at home? I know you're proud of it. The loudest word in your order is non-fat. You make it known. But do you really eat your granola with non-fat milk? It's sort of watered down.
Maybe next season let's make the new trend a bit more tastey.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Running (and the art of competition)
Ah springtime....
Birds chirping, open windows, iced Americanos.
It seems like Seattle rejoices like no other city when it comes to springtime. What felt like a year of dismal rain filled days, was really winter. Now is when people come out of hibernation and come outside. I jumped on the bandwagon of people who decided to get fit again. Time to dust of your running shoes and join the rest of the young people who also work and live downtown and like showing off their highly metabolized bodies. We're young and fit and enjoy the adrenalin rush of going for a run by the waterfront.
Right?
Running in the city is awkward.
There are tons of lights to stop at. So you're "that guy" or "that girl". Running in place like a lunatic. Clutching your iPod for dear life. Then you're "that girl" who trips over every curb. Catches herself, but is sure that the two bums sitting on the curb are laughing at her.
Or is that just me?
Regardless, I feel like running should be like riding a boat. Other people in their other boats should wave. You have something in common! Hooray! Let's celebrate by nodding, not talking of course, but a quick nod. You should just be able to cruise around and relax.
Fellow Seattleites, I'd like to just say this: don't take it so seriously. I know that you're running faster than me, and that your shorts are made for running and my American Apparel shorts are made for looking hip at the beach.
But.
It's running. That's it. Highschool is over.
Birds chirping, open windows, iced Americanos.
It seems like Seattle rejoices like no other city when it comes to springtime. What felt like a year of dismal rain filled days, was really winter. Now is when people come out of hibernation and come outside. I jumped on the bandwagon of people who decided to get fit again. Time to dust of your running shoes and join the rest of the young people who also work and live downtown and like showing off their highly metabolized bodies. We're young and fit and enjoy the adrenalin rush of going for a run by the waterfront.
Right?
Running in the city is awkward.
There are tons of lights to stop at. So you're "that guy" or "that girl". Running in place like a lunatic. Clutching your iPod for dear life. Then you're "that girl" who trips over every curb. Catches herself, but is sure that the two bums sitting on the curb are laughing at her.
Or is that just me?
Regardless, I feel like running should be like riding a boat. Other people in their other boats should wave. You have something in common! Hooray! Let's celebrate by nodding, not talking of course, but a quick nod. You should just be able to cruise around and relax.
Fellow Seattleites, I'd like to just say this: don't take it so seriously. I know that you're running faster than me, and that your shorts are made for running and my American Apparel shorts are made for looking hip at the beach.
But.
It's running. That's it. Highschool is over.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Make Believe and the Art of Forgetting
Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes your iPod is stolen at the Safeway Starbucks. When unfortunate things happen to me- I ritually go get coffee. I sit and think. After thinking for a short period, I go to my make believe apartment. This apartment is far more interesting than any other apartment I've ever lived in. This apartment even has it's own make believe neighborhood.
It's sort of like Capitol Hill. Only more beautiful. People in my make believe neighborhood are really cool. Fortunately, none of them know it. They are well dressed. Well read. Amazing dressers. They wear leather shoes and talk about Brazilian music, primarily from the sixties.
Sometimes I watch them walk down the street from my window sill.
Well.
It's more of a window seat. Really comfortable pillows are on it, sometimes it's just really comfortable wood.
It's always Sunday morning in my neighborhood. On the most perfect Spring day. I'm wearing the most comfortable sweater and underwear. Sitting on my window seat. Listening to Belle and Sebastian. Drinking really great coffee. While I watch all of my people. Walk the streets of the most perfect little city neighborhood.
I have walls of the most beautiful shade of green. I have book shelves upon book shelves of all the most inspiring well written books that ever existed. My kitchen is perfectly stocked with tea cups and spices.
This is wear I go. Sometimes I don't leave for a few days. I drift in my "real world" , but only barely. I'm floating around. I'm talking and walking and functioning but I'm not really there. I'm elsewhere. In my green room. Where people don't die, and phone bills pay themselves. Your day job consists of writing poetry and painting. Everyone loves you and you never cry. Your friends understand and your home is truly a home.
If I ever seem distant, it's because I am. I'm in the most perfect place. And there is no need to worry.
It's sort of like Capitol Hill. Only more beautiful. People in my make believe neighborhood are really cool. Fortunately, none of them know it. They are well dressed. Well read. Amazing dressers. They wear leather shoes and talk about Brazilian music, primarily from the sixties.
Sometimes I watch them walk down the street from my window sill.
Well.
It's more of a window seat. Really comfortable pillows are on it, sometimes it's just really comfortable wood.
It's always Sunday morning in my neighborhood. On the most perfect Spring day. I'm wearing the most comfortable sweater and underwear. Sitting on my window seat. Listening to Belle and Sebastian. Drinking really great coffee. While I watch all of my people. Walk the streets of the most perfect little city neighborhood.
I have walls of the most beautiful shade of green. I have book shelves upon book shelves of all the most inspiring well written books that ever existed. My kitchen is perfectly stocked with tea cups and spices.
This is wear I go. Sometimes I don't leave for a few days. I drift in my "real world" , but only barely. I'm floating around. I'm talking and walking and functioning but I'm not really there. I'm elsewhere. In my green room. Where people don't die, and phone bills pay themselves. Your day job consists of writing poetry and painting. Everyone loves you and you never cry. Your friends understand and your home is truly a home.
If I ever seem distant, it's because I am. I'm in the most perfect place. And there is no need to worry.
Friday, January 4, 2008
The Quiet Seattleite : a note on Wireless Internet
It's a Friday night at Victrola coffee shop, located on the trendy 15th Avenue strip. A lot of tables are filled by groups of threes and fours. The other tables are filled mainly with groups of one, with their laptop computer plugged into the wall, lattes near finished. These people look like they are diligently working on paper research, updating themselves on world affairs, checking The Stranger's I Saw U page.
So, I purchased tea (not to go, but for here instead please) and headed over to the last two person table next to an outlet left. Assuming I would join these people in their Friday night internet shenanigans, maybe work on my blog.
After a frustrating ten minutes of trying to get my internet to load, I discovered the internet was down. I got the attention of the 30 something liberal to my left. He said his computer hasn't been working the whole time either and that he was just going to go. It's been an hour. The 30 something alternative rocker behind me confesses that he too has been staring at a blank computer, just waiting around for the connection to do something for quite some time. A couple other people who were now found out to not be working on anything at all looked up. They looked anxious and hopeful at the same time, hoping for the internet they've been waiting to magically appear on their tool bar. The rocker and I decided to get the barista to re-set the internet. So she did, and the internet was back on.
A lesson to learn my dear fellow Seattle-ites...
Speak up. It's wireless internet. You're not asking the male employee at Walgreens to locate the tampon aisle for you. It's just wireless internet.
So, I purchased tea (not to go, but for here instead please) and headed over to the last two person table next to an outlet left. Assuming I would join these people in their Friday night internet shenanigans, maybe work on my blog.
After a frustrating ten minutes of trying to get my internet to load, I discovered the internet was down. I got the attention of the 30 something liberal to my left. He said his computer hasn't been working the whole time either and that he was just going to go. It's been an hour. The 30 something alternative rocker behind me confesses that he too has been staring at a blank computer, just waiting around for the connection to do something for quite some time. A couple other people who were now found out to not be working on anything at all looked up. They looked anxious and hopeful at the same time, hoping for the internet they've been waiting to magically appear on their tool bar. The rocker and I decided to get the barista to re-set the internet. So she did, and the internet was back on.
A lesson to learn my dear fellow Seattle-ites...
Speak up. It's wireless internet. You're not asking the male employee at Walgreens to locate the tampon aisle for you. It's just wireless internet.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
rainy days in seattle
People in Seattle don't really try to look nice when it's raining out. Especially if it's a Sunday. They throw on old shoes. They layer sweaters. They don't brush their hair.
Rainy Sundays in Seattle give reason to bring back clothes in the back of your wardrobe that you forgot about. Apparently.
I think it's endearing, and at the same time I feel like shaking people's shoulders and waking them up. Put away your crocs. Brush your hair. Wear fashionable (yet durable) shoes.
I understand the need to be warm. I understand the urge to look like you rolled out of bed. But for crying out loud, don't look homeless.
Rainy Sundays in Seattle give reason to bring back clothes in the back of your wardrobe that you forgot about. Apparently.
I think it's endearing, and at the same time I feel like shaking people's shoulders and waking them up. Put away your crocs. Brush your hair. Wear fashionable (yet durable) shoes.
I understand the need to be warm. I understand the urge to look like you rolled out of bed. But for crying out loud, don't look homeless.
Stumptown
The new Stumptown Coffee Roasters on East Pine St. is pretty ideal. It's the kind of place you run into people you know and like, not the kind of people you dodge until you're face to face and you pretend you hadn't seen them until that very moment. How great it is to see you. What the heck have you been up to? What's with this rain... right? That's my drink, I better run... crazy day. Let's get together really soon. Call me!
This is the kind of place where you can acknowledge a worthy acquaintance and continue on with what you were doing. They can continue talking over non-fat double tall lattes about who wore it best and you can continue drinking your enormous grapefruit juice and check your Gmail.
This is the kind of place where you can acknowledge a worthy acquaintance and continue on with what you were doing. They can continue talking over non-fat double tall lattes about who wore it best and you can continue drinking your enormous grapefruit juice and check your Gmail.
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