I had an abortion. Yes, I said it. My worst fear came true: becoming pregnant. I never thought that would ever really happen to me. And it did. Once I became used to it, I felt like I had accomplished something. I felt like I had conquered a huge fear, and there really shouldn't have been such a stigma about it in the first place. The process was very saddening, overwhelming, painful, and gassy. I felt like I didn't know my own body anymore. I had terrible cramps, and my boobs felt like huge bags of rocks. I knew I was pregnant when I woke up in the middle of the night because my boobs were hurting so badly. At that moment, my stomach did backflips. I could possibly be pregnant.

It was also a hard experience for boyfriend, Jon. We became closer emotionally, but being intimate was a whole different chapter of weirdness. He felt guilty for wanting to have sex with me. Whenever I would initiate anything, he would say "baby, I think we should wait a little while longer." I wanted to scream. I wanted to feel sexy through all this hardship on my body.

The actual procedure was not too terrible. I had to take a shit ton of pills, like antibiotics, painkillers, anxiety reducers, and a "cervix ripening pill." Yes, you heard that correctly. My cervix needed ripening, like it was a green mango in your grocery store's produce section. The awful part was having to wake up at 4 am and shove two pills up my vagina. This supposedly "widened my cervix to help with dilation, and decrease pain." For whatever reason, I didn't think I got the pills high enough up my vaginal canal, so I woke up Jon. Our conversation went something like this:

"Hey honey. Can you check to see if the pills are up there?"

"Wait, if the pills are UP there? What do you mean?"

"Can you stick your finger up my vagina and feel for some pills? They're cervix ripeners."

"Uh, okay I guess."

"I'm going through a lot today. Just help me out."

A couple hours later I took 2 hydrocodone and a valium. I was pretty fucked up. We got in Jon's truck, and I was so happy the sun was out. Jon was tired and quiet. I could tell he was nervous about my procedure, because he kept quickly changing the radio station, and kept twisting to crack his back.

The procedure itself wasn't bad. Even though I was so messed up on painkillers, I was still relatively lucid. The nurse was super sweet and lovey-dovey. Her name was Linda. She seemed like one of those cool aunts that wore Tevas, had effortlessly wild salt-and-pepper curls, and rocked turquoise jewelry from New Mexico. Linda held my hand as the doctor performed the procedure. I honestly had no idea what he was doing, but dilating my cervix was a pain unlike any I've ever felt. It felt like I had fallen into the pain itself, and my ears rang with terror.

I was instantly relieved it was over. I still am. It was an incredible experience. I saw my biggest fear, and let it go, the soul and the emotion itself. Now I feel free. 

El Chupacabra

This past Friday night I went on a date with my coworker, Jon. It's funny that I am currently somewhat involved with two men with the same name. And by funny, I mean weird.

My coworker Jon is someone I would not normally be into. He talks loudly, has bad posture, and is a skinny white boy with curly blonde hair. He looks a little rough around the edges. And he is 44 years old. I thought he was at most 35! That means he was 20 when I was born. It all seems very surreal to me.

But what appeals to me is how kind he is. I never thought kindness would be a turn on, but it really is. I had been so used to being dismissed by the other John, that I had forgotten what a real gentleman is. Jon never stops smiling, and is adored by everyone who works with him, and is relentlessly helpful.

A couple of weeks ago, I told him I would take him out for margaritas for a belated birthday celebration. I thought that he wouldn't really take me up on my offer. When I came back from Florida for christmas, he pulled me aside and asked when we could go out. I was surprised that he had brought it up, I thought he would have forgotten. I said "how about tonight? after work?" He looked excited.

He came and got me from my office. He looked a little nervous, but was still smiling. I was listening to "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" and doing paperwork. I tried to keep my cool. We walked outside and got in his truck. He took me for a drive around the neighborhood, pointing out various landmarks and lights hung on the trees. He grew up in Phinney Ridge, a neighborhood about 2 miles from where we work, where he also currently lives. We stopped and got margaritas at El Chupacabra. We talked for about 5 hours and had such a blast.

The thing I can't really get over is over much older he is than me. He has already had so many experiences in his life before my birth. He does things differently than guys my age. He is more forward, and more respectful. I'm not sure what to do. But it feels alright in the meantime.

John

The whole Friends with Benefits thing isn't all it's cracked out to be. If anything, it's so much harder that it should be. I never thought I'd be the type of person to be doing this.

My friend John and I have been sleeping together since early August. It was shocking that he made a move like that. He dated my friend Angie for a while, and they did their own FWB thing. She always told me how good he is in bed. She even said she wanted to give him a present for showing her how to orgasm.

Last night he picked me up to go to a party in Capitol Hill. I could tell he had been drinking. He told me that I looked nice (he's usually reserved about compliments), and he was smiling a lot. I found this to be weird, because he's usually preoccupied with finding the next tune to blast on his car stereo. We went to a gas station to pick up beer. His hand grazed my lower back as he walked past me. It was somewhat startling.

Later, after searching for 20 minutes for a parking spot, we parked along Broadway and drank a Rainier. We ended up talking for 45 minutes. He asked me how I felt about our relationship. I sat for a second, stunned and not sure what to say, since he'd never even breached this subject. I felt a knot in my throat, and my stomach was shaking. That didn't stop me from telling the truth.

"Well," I said, "you told me up front that you don't want a relationship, so I never allowed myself to have those feelings for you. I wouldn't do that. I would get hurt. But maybe I already have a little. I mean, how could I not be attracted to you? We spend so much quality time together and we have amazing sex. It feels like we're a couple."

John didn't say anything. He just held a gaze. The street lights made his hazel eyes slightly golden. I looked away and exhaled, feeling relieved that I had gotten that off my chest.

He said "I don't want to hurt you. I care for you, and that makes me sad to hear that. If you want this to stop, we can." That moment was the opportune time to call it quits and move on. But I was foolish enough to give in...again. Something inside me made me feel happy that he felt this way about me, but it'll never be what I would want.

"I like what we have, but it's hard when you leave. I hate to admit that," I said.

John nodded. "Yeah, I agree. I really like being around you. And I really like having you in my home."

I didn't know what to make of it all. Later at the party, I opened up to Angie about what had been going on. She said she knew it all along, and was supportive. But she warned me to be careful; don't let myself get attached. I didn't want to tell her the full extent of it all.

John and I went back to his place and had great sex, like we always do. But it was more intimate than usual. He held a gaze and wrapped his arms around me. In the morning, for the first time, we had sex sober, with daylight shining through his bamboo curtains. I felt vulnerable. But I wanted to be honest with who I am.

I understand that this isn't going to last. It simply can't. I'm not looking forward to investing the energy once again in someone. However, I think it's worth the chance.

I just rediscovered this blog after being on a two year hiatus from the online writing world. I have to say, I'm happy where I am in my life. It's a little overwhelming to read about what it was like for me to immigrate to Washington (I chose that word because Washington is literally a whole 'nother world of difference from Florida).

This past weekend I went on a last-minute trip to Fernandina Beach outside of Jacksonville. It was Dugan's wedding. He married a wonderful woman from Ecuador named Andreina. I didn't meet her until I arrived at the airport on Saturday morning after an awful red-eye flight. The arrival was surreal. I was so tired from the lack of sleep, but so excited to see sun and palm trees. For the first time, I felt like my hometown was a foreign place. I couldn't calm myself because I was too overwhelmed. The wedding itself was basically a small ceremony of reciting vows. Andreina cried. I cried. My mom cried. Dugan did not. He had a big grin on his face and held her hands. It really showed a loving support that I've never seen before.

Where else to begin?

Well, I feel like a grown up these days. No husband or kids. Just a garbage disposal, health and dental insurance, savings account, zero student loans, and an exercise routine.

I am currently working at a retirement home at Greenlake called The Hearthstone. My official title is "Life Enrichment Coordinator." Basically my job consists of convincing people with dementia to move from one area of a room to another, and do a white-board game or lesson of some sort. The job is okay. The benefits are fantastic, and it's really close to where I live (Fremont). However my boss is a mess. She promises a lot of things, but is too unorganized. It is clear to everyone that she is overworked and burnt out. She is only 46, but she looks like shit. I honestly feel really concerned for her. I'm trying not to let it get to me. I started in August. I am trying to last a year there. But who knows, things may completely change.

I currently live in Fremont with Ruth's twin sister, Amanda. It is such an improvement from the Central District. The house itself is really funky. I have a huge trapazoidal-shaped bedroom that has zero insulation, and traffic noise is kind of an issue. But I have my own bathroom and tons of closet space. Thanks to my job that pays much better than my time with AmeriCorps last year, I can now go to Fred Meyer and not feel bad about spending $70 on space-saving shit for my closet, or fancy decorative socks. I'm finally in a financially-stable place in my life, and it feels pretty good. My job isn't that awesome, but it's not terrible. Maybe this is what adulthood is like: having a mediocre job with secure benefits. I still need a car at some point...

Something that has been an ongoing issue is the "b" word: boys. 2012 was all about "beaches," 2013 was all about "booze," and 2014 is all about "boys." And by "boys," I mean the lack thereof. I am currently hooking up with John, my neighbor. It's gotten weird very quickly, or at least in my head it has. I always thought he was handsome. He dated my friend Angie, and they broke up, but still remained FWB because she said he was so good in bed. I moved to Fremont, about three blocks away from John. We started hanging out all the time, and still do. I asked him if he wanted to go to Jacki and Keven's wedding with me. You know, as a friendly date. Of course we got super hammered and made our way back to our shared tent (it was a camping wedding). We were lying in our sleeping bags next to one another. I looked over and him, not saying anything. He swiftly put his hand on the back of my head and moved me towards him. It was hot, but I felt guilty. Angie and her boyfriend were in the tent next to ours. I didn't want them to hear us. Plus, I was so sweaty and gross from all the intense outdoor dancing we were doing. I'm sure my makeup had smeared and my crotch smelled. I didn't let him do anything down there. I wasn't ready. But it really threw me for a loop. The next day, he acted like everything was cool. It was the big elephant in the room.

A week later, I brought it up. He nonchalantly pointed to my room and said "well, we can finish what we started." And we did. The sex was great. He really knows what he's doing. We've continued to do this pattern of getting hammed, stumbling back to each other's houses and banging. But the concerning part is how we are incorporating friendly companionship into the mix. And now my female brain is trying to convince me to like him. I mean, we watch Netflix in bed together, go for walks around the neighborhood, drink beers by the canal, and then finish it off with great sex. It all seems like a relationship, right? Wrong. He doesn't want one. Dugan bluntly put it: "when he says he doesn't want a relationship right now, he really means he doesn't want a relationship with YOU right now." Hard to hear, but it's the truth. So I've been backing off. It's still tempting, though. John has a masculine, symmetrical face, drives a stick-shift 4-Runner, and is a babe magnet. He is emotionally detached, which somehow makes me want more. When he texts me to hang out, my stomach jumps. I act annoyed at his persistence, but it's secretly flattering. I know it's out of convenience for sex, but it still makes my brain think it's because he likes me. I wish this whole physical thing never happened. It's only made things complicated, and made me like someone who isn't returning the feelings.

On a lighter note, I am sticking a pretty strict exercise routine and am feeling great about the changes that are happening with my body. I can see a figure starting to appear as my body fat goes away. I am starting to appreciate my natural shape, and am feeling good about my natural femininity. I am doing Barre, hot yoga, and occasional running. I am trying to fight Seasonal Affective Disorder as much as possible! My ultimate goal is to feel so good about myself that other people are attracted to my spirit in any shape or form. I want to feel good naked. I don't want to feel ashamed about my asymmetrical boobs, my tummy, or the cellulite on the back of my thighs. I want my femininity to make me feel like a sensual goddess that isn't afraid to be touched in uncharted places of my body. That's what I really would like.

This is a lot to catch up on, but I'm glad I rediscovered this blog. I hope to post more in the near future. There is still much more to be said. 

Unknown Road to Seattle

My mother called me this morning as I was preparing breakfast. She wanted to talk to me about my Thanksgiving plans. I told her that I am planning to make creamed corn and ciabatta stuffing.

(Here's the recipe:)
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/ciabatta-stuffing-with-chestnuts-and-pancetta-recipe/index.html

Should turn out alright. Abby and I are going to Ross' house in Upper Queen Anne for the Thanksgiving feast tomorrow. I am excited to be a young adult in charge of a family-oriented holiday. Makes me feel like a real grown up. I'm happy that I get to spend Thanksgiving with transplants from the East Coast. I am attempting to make my own tradition with other young adults who are in my same boat.

The title of the blog is something I want to discuss in detail, and also have a discussion with other people for advice. Should I drive my car back to Seattle from Tallahassee, after I fly home for Christmas? There are a lot of pro's and con's. The biggest, for me, is just to have my car with me. It is disheartening when I want to explore the city, yet I don't always have enough money for the bus. However I need to learn to be more independent from cars. I do miss my little rascal.

Today I went to Pike Place Market for lunch. I had a grilled mozzarella basil sandwich from a local cheese café and a Virgil's rootbeer. I wandered through the cobblestone street and was amazed at the variety of goods being sold. It almost felt like the market scene from "Amelie," where she describes the hub of activity happening in the French market. This was on par, except more transients and Asians. I still enjoyed the thought of wandering through the downtown market (it is also the oldest Farmers' market in the United States!).

I am becoming more comfortable doing activities by myself. I am alone, but that doesn't mean that I am lonely. I am just becoming more observant of my new city. I am still amazed at how much of Seattle I have yet to see. I am also attempting to blog about this experience more frequently.

For the first time today I was able to understand what it means to live in a big city: keep to yourself, live your life, and enjoy the pace of the city around you. It is difficult being from a small city, but I am slowly adapting. I have to say, I am still in awe of the surrounding mountain ranges that encompass Seattle. It makes it all worth it.

View of the top of Mt. Si.

Me, Abby, and her two coworkers climbed it yesterday. It was about a four mile hike. It seemed like it took forever, but once we were at the very top, it felt amazing. My legs were shaking and I was dehydrated, but it was worth it, especially knowing that I could endure that much pain for something so beautiful.

There was something so calming about being in nature. I was around other people, but I was able to reflect on my own personal thoughts. I was thinking of Emerson and Thoreau, and how they both look to nature as means of personal inspiration and therapy. I found the same effect when I was hiking.

There was something so healing about being silent for three hours, only hearing my own breath and the sound of birds. But the forest was so silent, but not in a haunting way. It felt serene and accepting. The industrialized world did not occur within these woods. No such idea has passed. Only people who marvel at the grandeur of nature.