9:51 pm - Wednesday, Oct. 16, 2002
Song:
Appreciating Dirt Through Emeralds
I�ve always hated greyhound, but I�d ride the three and a half hours gladly to be with him. I feel pathetic when I say that, base my happiness on someone else, do something for them. But as the clich� goes, he�s worth it.
He, Chris, is worth it.
Now I feel silly writing this because I�m madly in love and the sap I pour into those feelings is scalding and slides everything together. I feel like I�m swimming through molasses. This is taking forever.
The man who sat next to me reminded me of a character from the movie �Ghost World�. His appearance, mannerisms, voice; I see the record collecting old man from the movie.
�Where you going?� He turns to me.
�Seattle�
He nods his head in approval, and does as I feel strangers on greyhound should do. He leaves me alone. But thoughts of �Ghost World� still linger through my mind.
Don�t I, too, want to move somewhere without telling anyone? So am I not the young girl, obsessed with the older man, from that movie. Yet an online test said I was Josh, the simpler type, which saddens me as I like to think of myself as the odder half of my friendships.
I entertained myself on the bus with doodles and a re-reading of The Lovely Bones. I sprawled my random observations in the margins of my notebook, pale blue lines striking through my diagonal sentences. �Tacoma smells like a dumpster. The aroma of Tacoma,� and �The people across from my speak Spanish only, though so slowly and basically, I understand what their saying.�
I�ve always had a certain affinity for cities, a love for the large that makes me scorn Portland, say it can�t offer what I beg it to reveal. Coming into Seattle made me smile; it meant so many things. It meant tall buildings and new places and soft kisses from the boy who tucks me in each night with words and �I love you�s. I�m trying my best to love him back right, and not just tongue the insides of his cheeks.
I�m a jumble of nerves. I�m all insecurity because I�m used to our being together on Portland streets. This, this is his place.
Traveling excites me, and as I face this town, new to me, I feel dumb for not bringing a camera. I look at the world one of two ways, as the photographer or the writer. Today I�ll have to be the writer.
I don�t remember what time I got there, but it was still in the A.M. He wore green and I white American Eagle. I�m filling in the pointless details, jumping open mouthed into a style different than my own. All around, I�m out of my comfort zone, and perfectly content with this. I�ve only been in this city once before, when the Kingdome still stood, and I missed the arc of the pop-fly.
�I�m thirsty,� After a hello kiss and a �hi�, these were my first words to him.
He led me to a corner store so I could indulge in some Clearly Canadian. Blackberry flavored water. We caught the bus to his house. It�s a prize to sit there with his arm around me, watching an unknown town flash by. I like it here.
I always long to be away from the city I called drab, I long to move and go. Now I�m gone, I�m gracing new cement and loving it.
When we got to his house he showed me around. I sat on his beige carpet against the back of his couch. I liked the smell and the pictures on the mantle.
�Wanna see my room?� I knew just what he was asking.
Smoking cigarettes undressed, but a blanket, in bed is the Hollywood way of inferring sexual activity. We had Jones� fufu berry soda. It's odd to lay there with someone like that, feeling their skin against them, knowing you just took all they had to offer, and wondering �oh my, did I return the favor?�
�Can�t I just claim I lost my virginity to you?� He played with my hair. First emotionally tied sex.
I wanted so badly to cry out, �of course, all the others were merely a practice, this sex, this was the only to ever count for anything.� Instead I said, �Sorry baby.�
We all know you can�t reclaim your virginity, just as you can�t reverse birth or live for eternity. And really, what does your virginity matter when this will be the moment you reflect upon?
Worries of the effect this will have on our relationship had not yet riddled my thoughts, to which I lay grateful. There�s never really been much reason to worry with him. Never a moment of doubt that his words mirror his thoughts.
Suddenly everything was beautiful, and wasn�t that the point. That�s when I realized some of the beauty I was sorely missing.
Seattle is a city I adore for its location and its ability to remind me of my love for New York City. While I can�t be at my desired location 3000 miles away, I have the emerald city, which brings me my inner city joys while still sparkling with west coast water and Northwest mountains.
I found myself adoring everything I saw, and comparing it to those places I visited in my week on the east coast. The waterfront was wonderful, and the people darling, and isn�t everything just marvelous. The kind of awe that carries me home so I may be disappointed by the lack of height in our buildings, and the slow paced stroll those using the sidewalks here have grown accustomed to.
But that�s where the beauty I treasure is truly held. Riding the bus downtown while the sun is low in the sky to gather the breathtaking beauty I am often assaulted with here as I ride across the bridges. The water never bluer, the hills never greener, the buildings erect in their clean way that reflects sunlight off carefully polished windows.
Despite the draw of a precious lover, and a true metropolis, Seattle can�t hold a candle to my Portland. The beauty here is just too pronounced.