Monthly Archive for August, 2006

As I waited at a stoplight today, a woman came up and waved a newspaper at me.

“Buy Real Change! One dollar only! Help the homeless!” (Real Change is a weekly newspaper sold by Seattle’s homeless as a way for them to earn money.)

I shook my head, said “Sorry!” and looked away.

She stared at me for an awkward 10 seconds (mostly on my part) and then blurted, “Why?”

No homeless person ever asked me that before. I smiled weakly. I had no answer.

When I lived in New York City, I used to give a dollar to every street musician. No matter their talent.

My rationale: They were performers and I appreciated their art. I refuse to give a handout, but I will tip a dancer, a mime, a musician.

Since moving to Seattle, I noticed I’ve become a hardass. Except for the one time I gave a dollar to a young man with a “I ran out of gas” sob story, I have not parted with my money.

You could be jumping rope, balancing a sword on your nose and playing a musical instrument, and I would STILL not give you a George Washington.

Why?

I can’t say, but I suspect my post-New York minimum wage experience (God knows when you don’t tip), a mortgage, and a deepening cynicism about the fate of my dollar may have something to do with it.

When you’ve been with someone for several years, you develop a kind of…how shall I put it…

THICK SKIN.

While having a much needed after-work drink with Jay tonight, I asked (after two alcoholic beverages), “What do you see when you look at me?”

I don’t know what I was expecting—I mean, I guess I was hoping for some romantic insight into my soul—but Jay answered matter-of-factly, “A drunk slut.”

Don’t be offended for my sake. I don’t scare easily.

And with a last name like Ho, perhaps that was inevitable. Plus my liver processed alcohol at the speed of a racing tortoise and my eyes were crossed after a day line-editing, so I assumed I must have been a sight-for-sore-eyes.

I laughed gaily and thanked him.

In an age of double-talk and superficial niceties, a jolt of truth never hurt.

So I looked like crap. I felt like it. So at least I was validated.

And for the record, I am officially sick of greeting people with “Hi, how are you?”

Because you know what, I don’t care. And I’m sure you don’t either.

My very former students graduated very recently. (Congrats y’all!)

The news brought back memories of my own graduation and the expectations of embarking on something new. I hear fragmented news of where everyone is, and I am so proud to know that I was part of their journey, however small a part that was.

I know that whatever they are doing, it is but a first step in a long, long path of self-discovery.

As someone in the not-so-beginning stage of my life and career, I admit I am still figuring it out. (I thought it was mighty appropriate that I put up Han’s image of me trying to scale the Great Wall of China—the top seemed out of reach until I scaled it, sort of.)

Life’s decisions sometimes make themselves. Other times, we have to steer our way.

I’d like to think I’ve chosen paths I’ve enjoyed, and I sure as hell learned a lot along the way. (Okay, I promise this is as sappy as it gets.)

I’m not one for quotes, but you know what, Robert Frost did say it best.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

So wherever you are, whatever you do, Hello from Seattle and I hope your path leads you back to you.

Or here in Seattle (Visitors welcome!). Whichever comes first.

Now that I’ve got your attention, I’ve got a confession to make.

I don’t like to chitchat when I am on my way to or from work.

I talk for a living.

Well, I write for a living, but sometimes it sure feels like I’m talking and talking all day on the phone or on the street, asking people about random things, all in the name of work, of course.

I think they call that interviewing.

I am NICE for a living.

So before I enter the office with my game face or as I go home after a long day, I do not want human interaction.

I walk to and from work for that introspection time. It’s great in a large city because I can afford to not recognize anyone on the street. I smile at complete strangers but there is never any chance we’ll have to stop and CHAT.

So to my dismay, I inadvertedly developed a relationship with the security-guard-slash-concierge in my office building. I smiled at her one day, and that was it: WE WERE CHATTING.

You do not know how stressful it is to know that she is waiting to chat with me as I enter or leave the building.

I am too nice to walk past her because she always walks up to me and does one of those “block your way so you’ll talk to her” thing.

I am ashamed to say I now enter and exit the building from the BASEMENT to avoid seeing her. It is terrible.

I hope I do not burn in corndog hell for this.