Up To Speed

Ten years ago: I moved to Seattle from Southern California to start my master’s in social work degree, laboring under rather severe delusions of desiring to change the world, or something. I lived in a basement room in a funny little neighborhood (down the street from Thai of Wedgwood and Grateful Bread in a house where there was a dog that barked incessantly whenever I came in, for like a year. Mold grew on my car, I participated in the WTO protests for a class project (I got an A but I think they gave that to anyone who got pepper-sprayed), worked at the natural history museum, and began going to the big flagship REI with somewhat stunning regularity, considering how much I hate camping.

Nine years ago: I was very relieved when it turned out that we were not all going to die at Y2K and started training to be a psychotherapist, spending eight hours a day, three days a week frantically flipping back and forth through the color-coded pages of my DSM. I cut my hair for the first time since I was twelve and decided not to vote for Nader three days before the election.

Eight years ago: I graduated with my master’s and was promptly unemployed for what seemed like a very long time, in what was to become somewhat a distressing theme for the ensuing decade. Moved into a tiny little apartment in North Seattle with built-in bookshelves that haunt my dreams to this day and downstairs neighbors who, seemingly, started their thrash band practice at ten each night. Was woken up by Ashley early on the morning of September 11 to hear that, wait, what, some planes have…flown into some buildings? At home for Christmas, I decided to finally stop talking about it and actually start an online journal.

Seven years ago: I got a job that consisted of asking very personal questions of people who had just had their legs amputated. I made the world’s ugliest polarfleece sweater and wore it all the time, along with hiking shoes and my then-boyfriend’s climbing pants. I went to the legendary jello-wrestling ABL party.

Six years ago: I was unhappy that the war started on my birthday. I went to JournalCon with Linda and met many many excellent writers with whom I am Facebook friends today.

Five years ago: I got a job which actually required my master’s degree. I went to Europe for two weeks on my own, left my then-boyfriend when I got back, moved to Green Lake and basically didn’t stop crying for a year. I learned the Thriller dance and started getting more into tribal style bellydance. I got my own laptop and had wireless internet at home for the first time. I came into work dressed completely in black and basically spent the whole day with my head on my desk the day after the election, unable to believe that Bush was president again.

Four years ago: I had and awesomethirtieth birthday and started seriously planning to move abroad although at the time I thought I would be going to the UK and not to New Zealand. Meanwhile, I moved to Ballard and painted some clouds on the walls of my room.

Three years ago: I almost lost all my blog archives and felt like I’d had something surgically removed, but it all worked out fine in the end and I got my own domain name, which used to be this big thing back when we were all on diaryland and diary-x. My friends got me a stripper for my birthday. I ticked off the boxes on my list, packed up my stuff, quit my job, took a deep breath, and got on my first trans-Pacific flight. There was someone to meet me at the Auckland airport and at the Wellington train station because of this blog, and someone to suggest I call her boss for a job, which I got, and which, astoundingly, turns out to have launched me into a whole new career. I made a lot of new friends and had a lot of new fun. I started drinking tea. Wellington seemed to have been waiting for me. I started thinking I might want to stay for more than my year almost as soon as I got here.

Two years ago: Lots of people came to visit me in Wellington, thereby turning my flat into a youth hostel for a time. I had a bellydance performance with my friend Sylvia, of which no photographic evidence remains, sadly. I went down south with my friend Lydia and saw some penguins and sea lions, as well as being given the number of an Argentinian cheesemonger. I joined Facebook. I went to Australia for six weeks, visiting friends, staying at a rural outback conservation project (where I picked up wallaby poo with my bare hands, fed the koala, and cuddled my own abandoned baby kangaroo, and ultimately left in shame and disgrace), and learned to dive. I started getting more into feminism and fat acceptance. I got another job, much to my surprise, and started thinking seriously about what staying even longer would look like.

A year ago: I went to Rarotonga, swam with dolphins, sort of climbed a glacier, fell crazily and inappropriately in love, went to Samoa, had a difficult time adjusting to life back in the States (everything is so cheap and so big!), went to Miami, went to New York, went to Seattle, applied for New Zealand residency, went to Italy, sold all my stuff, came back to Miami, was unemployed for a really long time, worked at my mom’s school, got into the design blogs because why not seethe with jealousy twenty-four hours a day, volunteered for the Obama campaign and heard him speak, got a job in New Zealand through someone I met at a friend’s birthday party, and got my heart splinteringly, blindingly, bitterly broken.

Six months ago: I got my New Zealand residency and learned how to start a fire in the woodburner.

A month ago: I engaged in some analysis of social behavioral patterns.

A week ago: I went to Auckland for the weekend for my friend David’s thirtieth birthday, where I went to a bunch of malls, saw a crappy movie as is our tradition on his birthday, hung out with friends, went to the gannet colony at Muriwai Beach, and got rained on whilst being driven around, princess-like, in a silver convertible.

Today: I slept late, went to town to procure New Zealand-themed presents for friends and family in the States for when I go there Thursday (Thursday!) for my sister’s wedding reception (wedding!), got rained on, shivered, came home and chopped up some kindling, built a roaring fire, checked Facebook eight bajillion times, painted on my $2 shop canvases with my $2 shop watercolor set, , read a book, made my favorite broccoli pasta, hung my new canvases in my room, somehow managed to peel some paint off the wall, drank tea and ate biscuits, and thought about writing a blog entry.

Next week: I will be in Miami, sleeping on the couch because the house will be full of various family members in town for the reception. My plans involve wearing a pink dress to the party, seeing some high school friends, spending time with my family, eating a lot of morros y maduros, walking barefoot on the beach, and finally, finally, finally, being warm.

Next month: I’ll be back in Wellington, getting ready to go up to the Coromandel for Christmas, where I plan to dive in the marine sanctuary if I can, and to Shambhala for New Year’s, where I plan to walk on the beach all day and hang out every night at the Mussel Inn.

Next year: Maybe a little different, but probably not. Probably the same, but maybe not.