May 21st.

Traveling always makes me think of home. I think that’s why I am so bad at it. I love seeing new things and I like talking to different people. But, even though I’m not scared of being lost, I don’t like outsider status and always feel like I look like a tourist, even if I’m wearing whatever clothes I normally wear. Seattle style (not that I actually have any inkling of style at home) just doesn’t translate to other places. For instance, I have been a girl way less than a boy on this coast. Baggy shorts and t-shirts don’t cut it for a lot of these peeps, with their miniature inseams and huge boobs (tiny shirts made of spider webs) and huge sunglasses and make-up. I don’t think people think twice about setting me in ‘man’ category since I got none of that. I’m used to it but I forgot bathroom clips and I’m seriously getting ready to carry a pink bow to smack on top of my head before entering any women’s restroom. But, I didn’t mean to write about that, it just tangented away on its own. What I was thinking about was how much being away from home makes me appreciate it. I miss my dog. At home she can get on my nerves but I miss her huge smiling face (whether its from happiness or craziness) and playing fetch with her and watching her run like she’s on fire just to get a nasty tennis ball and bring it back for another go. I get excited when the sun comes out here because it makes me think of what summer is going to be like at home. I think that’s the best thing about May. This summer is as endless as a prairie, it’s touches the horizon and you know it goes further than you can see. It’s always different in August, when you realize you’ve done almost none of what you wanted to do and you’re just hot and sweaty and probably at work. But, that’s August and this is May. I’m looking forward to hiking to lakes with the dogs and barbequing in the backyard and running in the morning because it’s too hot in the afternoon and weeding the garden (planting the garden!) and eating all the good stuff that comes out of it and going to Molly’s cabin on the one weekend her parents aren’t there and swimming in rivers and ponds and hopefully riding my horse without getting bucked off and going fishing and maybe catching something but, if I do, I want to cook it over a fire and visiting Miranda in Paisley when the sun is out for blood and drinking in bars with air conditioning and drinking on the porch without it. My Dad said he’d give me this build-a-boat kit that he’s had for years and done nothing with. He said I just needed a hammer and drill and screwdriver to build it so we shall see if that’s the case or it its much more complicated than that. I am banking on the latter. But, if I do get the damn thing built, and it actually float, then I have a fishing boat and that is awesome. I’m not sure how big it is but I am hoping I can put it in the back of my truck, although I feel like that is tiny, even for a dinghy. I look forward to the naming and christening of it. I think I’m supposed to break champagne over the bow but I think it’ll more likely be a bottle of Rainier. Those are tough to come by but I bet I could buy one from the Sloop, they would understand. I’m definitely not much of a sailor though. I’ve only ever capsized small boats in the Puget Sound. It sort of freaks me out to be skittering along the water like a water beetle on crack. You tack or jibe the wrong way and suddenly you’re flipped like a turtle on its back and your sailing instructor, a grizzly bearded old guy named Barney who smells like sweat and seaweed, has to come haul you out of the water into his powerboat and you end up wearing his ripe old t-shirt the rest of the day because the Sound is damn cold. I like rowboats and little speedboats though. And I really liked this old sailboat named the Unicorn that was docked at Eagle Harbor. When I was staying with my dad on his boat we’d always walk by her at night and I’d imagine buying her one day and being a liveaboard like my dad. But, again, I love the water but I don’t see myself as a great sailor. I can drink and tie knots and smell like salt but I think I’d only enjoy sailing in the storms and I’d want a purpose, like fishing or rescuing people or pillaging other vessels, because sailing just to sail seems like too much for me. I’m like a sheepdog – give me something to herd and I’m happy but if I don’t have a job I’ll make up my own and it’s probably biting ankles or rounding up chickens.

On a separate note, the coffee out here is absolutely terrible. It’s like the worst gas station coffee you can imagine back home, but worse. And it’s everywhere. I always assumed the stereotype of Seattle coffee was blown out of proportion but, oh no, it’s very much to scale. This coffee is thinner than water and flavored only by whatever milk or nasty creamer you decide to cut it with. I am looking forward to grinding my own beans and making the thickest, blackest sludge I can on Saturday morning.

Last thoughts because it’s amazing outside and I should be out there instead of writing in here (just can’t stop the beat)… I’m seriously obsessed with this summer. Not in a wild and crazy way (although my drinking habits have been ridiculous as of late) but in an outside way. I always get sucked into too much city and too much work and too much boring bullshit during the summer. And I am going to do my very best to do my job, do it well, but to get out of the Jock as much as possible this summer. I only have one night shift until September. Even though it makes sense to work nights so you can be outside during the day I still hate it because it’s this gross wart that just lingers at the end of a beautiful morning, knowing I have to go into a busy, sweaty, dark place with no air conditioning. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an awesome place to work, but I’m past my time there and have been for quite a while. I was so cockily sure that I would be a firefighter before I turned 26. Now it looks like I’ll be lucky to get the job before I turn 30, if ever. I’m already starting to think of contingency plans. I don’t want to because since I was 19 that’s all I’ve imagined myself doing. It wasn’t so much that I was wishing and hoping to be a firefighter. I KNEW it was going to happen, just didn’t know when. When we were drilling at the tower at North one day the chief and my captain and a couple administrative staff were standing outside smoking. They called me over and I hopped to. They asked me how old I was, I said twenty, and they told me I could get back to the drill. Later, one of the LTs asked me if I knew why they asked me that. I said I didn’t and he said they were making bets on when I’d be hired and they figured right when I turned 21. That was when the economy was roaring (only five years ago) and it was a good time to get hired. Now, with shit the way it is, it’s more competitive than ever for less positions than ever. They are still out there though and I might not have as much of an edge as I used to have (EMT cert, current FD status) but I want it more than I ever have and am in better shape than I ever have been in so I’m champin’ at the bit to get this in the bag. I think I’m going to re-test for all the Seattle metro departments when I get back (Shoreline, Renton, Bellevue, etc) and study my brains out for those writtens so I can be on the top of the list. The thought of another summer at the Jock kills me but it is what it is I suppose. If fire isn’t in my future than I’ll look at teaching or nursing or woodworking I think. But, I hope to god it’s fire. There’s no adrenaline in any of those other fields, even though I’m sure they are satisfying in their own way. But, I remember when I knew I was going to be a firefighter. I was a camper at Camp Blaze and they’d lit up Cars on the Curb (a prop of three cars on a slight grade). I was on the nozzle and the instructor popped the hood on one of the cars and you really have to shove the nozzle in there and move pretty quick to catch all the fire coming at you. There was this thin shield of water and then this loud rippin’ fire right behind it and time was slow and fast at the same time and all you’re thinking is where it’s moving next and stopping it and slowing it down and working it up the hill and that’s when I knew I was going to be a firefighter. I hate this economy like the devil but I hope I can get ‘er done in the next year because I’ll work my ass off for whoever hires me. I will drill and study and stop playing rugby if it happens. Now, I’m going outside.