Route 66 Ain't Bad, 65 Is Where Its At

After a most riveting (forgive my sarcasm) day in class and a long soak in the burning hot sun, Seoyoung had to go to class so Lucy and I decided to book it back home. Halfway to the bus stop, we decided that it was much too early and beautiful outside to waste, so we decided to go to Northgate.

On the way to the bus stop, I couldn't help but think of the lovely shoes I could find as DSW as I had just received a coupon in the mail. Lo and behold, the bus! Walking at a fast pace towards the nearly departed 67 bus, we clamored on, quickly finding a seat in the middle. As I looked around, I noticed that there were not as many people on the bus as a bus going to Northgate regularly has. Imagine my surprise when the bus driver announced that this was in fact in 65.

65? That should take us to Northgate shouldn't it? Since the 67 and 68 both went to our destination, we naively thought that this bus shouldn't be too different. As the wheels on the bus went round and round, I realized that we were at Wedgewood, certainly not a destination that should have been on our journey. Nonetheless, I was not too worried as a previous experience on the tortuously long route of the 75 took just as long. It wasn't until we reached Lake City that the alarm bells in the mind started ringing.

As the bus stopped at every single stop on the route, more and more people got on and off the bus while we sat undisturbed. All too soon, there were only 5 people on the bus. The driver, two other rides, Lucy, and I. As the last people disembarked on the bus to nowhere, we discovered that we had reached the end of the line, and had to get off. One hour into the bus ride, we were hopelessly lost.

Luckily, within minutes of leaving the bus and it's mostly unhelpful driver, an express bus to downtown Seattle arrived and fearing that we might not get another chance, we wasted no time climbing on.

The bus was extremely busy and fearing the unknown and unaccounted for in the back of the bus, we quickly chose to sit in the front. Across from us sat a young, black mother with her child held closely to her chest in a snugly. Her long, completely impractical embellished nails stroked happily at the child, cooing her to sleep. My mind quickly deduced that she would therefore be called Ghetto-Mama. Next to her sat a girl, who was voluptuous throughout her body, busy texting on her phone, her fingers moving at a pace which someone of her girth could not imaginably keep up in a 5k run. Her name was furthermore decreed as Texter. Next to Lucy sat an older construction worker, who was happily chomping away on his crunchy barbecue flavor corn nuts. The only stander in the bus also decided to stand in front of us as he switched from loudly speaking on his phone to singing along with his CD player. Unable to be rude enough to stare at this man or at the woman sitting across from me, I was content to look at the banana yellow sandals of Ghetto-Mama.

After weaving through I-5 traffic at prime rush hour, we finally arrived at 6th and Union and with quick decision making skills (a rarity in our case), we decided to go to Gameworks. Of course, no trip concerning the two of us would be complete without a short stop at Starbucks. Exploring the confines of City Centre, we soon found ourselves outside and my navigational skills chose this moment to take a vacation. Leading us up a block, we soon realized that my direction had led us to the place where we had gotten off the bus. Luckily, after a couple of looks around, we figured out where we were and went uncontested to the picture machine.

6 bouts of pictures, a bus ride to UW, a quick burger, another bus ride, and a car ride later, I had arrived home in time to watch Seattle embarrass ourselves on So You Think You Can Dance.

Now that I've written this, I never want to talk about it again. *sigh*

Life is Nothing Like a Bad Romance Novel

So it is indeed after a weekend of bombarding myself with romance novel after romance novel that has left a bad taste in my mouth. Is it too cynical of me to be disgusted by the way characters in the books seem to meet with lovers with nothing more than trifle obstacles to stop them? Mind you, I'm not trying to come off as a lonely old maid who has lost her faith in love. Far be it from that, as I've never experienced true love. Yet so far, my observations of other people in their relationships seem to bring more pain then pleasure most of the time. Is it that humans are naturally inclined to be masochists in the face of love?

What is it about love that makes us so crazy from the moment we've reached puberty? It seems as if life is nothing but one huge mating ritual, getting jobs, making money, working on your appearance to attract the opposite sex (or the same sex in some cases). Doesn't it feel a bit wasteful? Nonetheless, I know I am being a bit hypocritical as I would like nothing more to join the craze.

Those characters in the novels, I wish them the best of luck, but I can't help but think of what befalls them in the future. A month from now, a year from now in the fictional world, would their relationships fall apart as fast as the ones in our harsh reality? If only life could pause at the happiest moment in one's life, there wouldn't be any need for war or hatred would there?

So Close Yet So Far

Today at youth group, we once again decided to forgo the lessons for the day and run off to the park to play water balloons. Never would a day at temple be complete without at least one person getting hurt/crying and today was no exception. Of course, I could barely think as I was too busy eying the new object of my affection. *sigh*

Is it weird when you realize that you have spent the last couple of minutes plotting to stand next to this one guy that you sort of, kind of, have a little crush on so that you can hold his hand when it's time to sing the "good-bye" song? Too bad that did not work out to well for at the last minute another girl happened to push her way between the two of you. Why is it so hard to know if someone likes you back or is happening to eye you when you're not eying him? Goodness gracious I sound like a whiny teen but I can't help it can I? It's hormones.

It must be the spring-time influence because I know for sure that a couple of months ago I wouldn't have given him another look. Or is it because my options are running out? O_o

Humble Beginnings

So, the days of chronicling my life are far from over as it seems. Despite the sense of vanity and self-centeredness that seems to arise from writing about one's own life in this "Me" focused generation, I find this to be quite necessary in the development of my own writing style and life. Not to mention that years from now, I'll be reading my posts and thinking to myself "wow, I was one crazy bitch", just as I have done with the posts I've written while still in the depths of hell *ahem* high school. Not that high school wasn't a bundle of joy.

Nonetheless, I guess I should be ending the post just about here, as it's time to head off to the dream-world before I have to go to youth group tomorrow (HA! youth). Trying to explain my less than ideal motives for restarting my "electronic diary" certainly is a taxing process. Good Night and hopefully tomorrow brings a good day.