better than prozac.

helping myself to too much self-help

i have been binging on a buffet of self-help books. Having never read a single self-help book before this year (opting instead for pricey therapy), it's been a fascinating personal journey. But wow, am I learning a lot. In fact, I just inhale 'em, and they have made my therapy so much more insightful - I can come to the session with the basics, and my therapist can finesse them. In the case of my amazing therapist, he brings an astrological perspective to what I glean from the books and work on independently. The net result is I feel like a renewed person.

It's funny - I always thought I had a handle on all my shit, but it turns out that I didn't quite realize just how deeply some of my shit permeated into my entire existence. I'm really excited to work through my childhood wounds and understanding how I have projected them onto nearly every aspect of my life and created realities that are based on perceptions formed long ago in my personal history. It's an enlightening trip.

On Abbey Road, Dance is All You Need

Already, today is developing in an enchantingly, interesting manner. It didn't start so well - plagued by insomnia, i tossed and turned until 2 a.m. The morning scramble was stressful and tardy as always, the bus system... reliably unreliable, the 358 late, and packed full. When I accidentally bumped into an old lady with my attache, she actually hit me. I was rescued by a sweet, not as old man who insisted I take his seat, as I was clearly burdened with my sky-high boots and baggage.

But it got better from there. Jeff Tweedy serenaded me as I popped open the laptop and got caught up on the morning mail, thanks to my wireless broadband connection. It was beautiful - the commute felt quick and I instantly made up for lost time.  When I was finally deposited at the coffeeshop, (about 30 minutes later than expected) Abbey Road was playing, and people were actually dancing in the coffee line to Octopus' Garden. Dancing.

It's going to be a good day.

intoxicated by the light

we're on the second day of the first flirtation with summer. it's been in the sixties and sunny and the entire city is drunk on it. Yesterday, as I sat on the bus and crossed the Aurora bridge, which spans the point where Lake Union and the Puget Sound connect, I admired the sapphire water, the Cascades and Olympics, illuminated, blazing, in the clear sky.  A certain cheerfulness, prevailed, everywhere.  There was a lightness in my heavy constitution as  I returned from my walk with Cosmo, passing various neighbors enjoying their tiny patches of urban greenery, to jump in the car and commute for another 40 minutes to meet Mel and Ryan for dinner and much-needed company.

It was just the blast of sunshine I needed, as the past several days have been full of stress and loneliness. There has been so much to adjust to, both wonderful and otherwise, that it's been hard to catch my balance and too tempting to fall.

friday morning communion on the 358

I need to take the bus more often.

This morning, I decided to walk haley to school and take the 358 downtown to work. After I got over the catcalls that a girl standing on Aurora Avenue will sometimes find herself subjected to, I was able to enjoy the community of the bus. I realized immediately that I am completely closed off from my neighbors - everyone on the bus was a stranger to me.  Living in the city, it's so easy to blend in, so easy to drift through the day silently, so easy to turn away and not make eye contact. But it the bus, during the commute, it is unavoidable. You notice how the people boarding the bus change as the 358 transcends neighborhoods in the course of its lengthy route. There are the scraggly folk from up North, the conservative, dowdy women from even further up north, who dress like schoolteachers and use the Park 'n Ride. The old woman reading Aldous Huxley next to the door as the well-dressed professionals boarded in Greenlake, the skinny hipster boys in their designer jeans and iPod earbuds in Fremont. I was sitting next to a fellow who fancied himself punk today, and who coincidentally got off at my stop (the end of the line), and I wonder what his story is, where he is going. But we all just sat, silently, in this intimate, public space, stealing glances, flashing smiles and reading the body language of our seatmates so we could make their eventual disembarkment as anonymous and non-verbal as possible.

hiatus - open letter

dear reader:

i've taken some time off from the blog, mostly because i am trying to assess its value. at first, it was devised as a sort of "what's new in the world of jaimee," an attempt to save valuable, eastward phone-hours while putting pen to paper. but i realized that it wasn't my remote friends (or more notably, family) who were reading it, but rather people i share my life with regularly and the occasional google searcher looking for information about how to buy weed on craigslist or one of my quasi music reviews/ramblings. so, being oh-so-cognaizant of what sells in the media, i am altering my approach to align with my personal creative goals (READ: more poetry, more music writing, more cultural commentary)  and the nature of my actual audience.

that's it for now, please use the old comment box liberally!

xo
superjaimee

the toro is the measure

i have been in denial. it's been nearly a week since we held joanie's farewell dinner at redfin, and i am just getting around to posting it now. i suppose this has a lot more to do with the fact that i am grappling with the physical distance that is now between us, than that i have been too busy or uninspired to write. so joanie has moved to la, a place i am learning to love and a place where i know i'll be seeing a lot more of - on business and on pleasure trips. but before she left, we wanted one last hurrah with the girls as one, and we went to sushi (and sake) at redfin, a newish restaurant that has gotten tons of buzz, so i have been avoiding it while seattle times readers make reservations. to my delight, it was some of the best sushi i have eaten. forever toro-whores, joanie and i shared 6 pieces of divine, melts-in-your-mouth o-toro, plus fantastic hamachi, sake (both farmed and wild were available - awesome) and some fabulously innovative rolls that did not rely on tempura, mayonnaise or other ingredients besides raw fish, to make a statement. while we were enjoying our meal, raekwon and ghostface killah (along with their entourage) came to the restaurant; ghostface even bellied up to the bar next to me. before i could chat him up (although i was not nearly drunk enough or otherwise liberated to do so) mel called because her car got locked in a garage. so, we put the sake down, said goodbye to ghostface and i drove everyone home.

observations of a windy, wintry morning

as i drove along the turbulent puget sound this morning, i was struck by the randomizing effect of the wind. beyond the telltale branches from unknown trees strewn about rain-slicked city streets, the strangest observation was that of the seagulls. consummate scavengers, seagulls fly low, swooping to the earth for crumbs, carrion and anything that resembles a food source from 20 feet above. in fact, this swooping results in many a seagull fatality, littering Aurora Avenue with carrion that ironically lures more of the seagull kind, more diving death.

but this morning, the seagulls were not swooping - they were high above, scattered like dice on a craps table, carried by the winds (of fortune?), flying in wide circles, victim to the ferocious gales.

snowy seattle

it seems strange for a girl from wisconsin to be fascinated by a snowfall, but i have been sitting in my living room, in front of a warm fire, watching the flakes tumble from the sky, resting on tree branches and coating the ground in a clean blanket of quiet.

i stepped outside, where children were playing in the silent street, as cosmo pounced playfully on the new, curious coating on the lawn. it takes me back to hot cocoa, snow forts, snowball fights and building a better, bigger more perfect snowman than last year's model; and of sleds, snowpants, ice skates and crunchy icicles.

although i am hoping i wake up to clean, snowless streets tomorrow, tonight, i languish in the peace and possibilities of a fresh snowfall.

a rare moment

this is the type of evening that makes me love seatle. it's 4:00 p.m. and already dark; clouds heavy with the rain that falls against my office window. inside, an aromatic candle and soft lighting warm my space as beth orton calms and inspires with central reservation, truly her masterpiece.

i'm compelled to be quiet, compelled to create. right now, in this moment, i find complete  contentment. a rare moment, indeed.

good karma today!

i haven't been blogging much lately, because i have been doing a lot of soul-searching and spending a lot of time with my mom while she is visiting.

but i think i am on the right track, as i had a morning filled with excellent karma: a call from the washington post, the best free parking spot available and a free coffee (because their computer system was on the fritz and they couldn't charge me!).

this was all after a morning of horrible karma yesterday: e-mail on the fritz, bringing about an early a.m. work crisis, followed by my car battery dying, rendering me unable to leave my house for an hour and horribly expensive parking due to a rolling stones concert that occurred last night.