What is it about me that is so terrible? Groups of more than three people tend to reject me outright. When I try to open up and be vulnerable I’m inevitably met with skepticism and/or scorn. My desire to make connections is palpable and the people that spend time with me are primarily motivated by boredom or some twisted idea of charity. I want to believe I’m fun and kind despite my hard exterior. This turtle has never tried to hurt anyone. I want to think there are at least one or two people left in the world interested in getting to know me. I want more evenings on the couch cuddled under the arm of someone whose body fits perfectly against mine. I want another chance to wake someone up by scratching their back first thing in the morning. I want to feel connected to someone even when they aren’t next to me. Is that still possible? Continue reading Unforgivable
Category Archives: Daily Life
Rawr
That’s the sound I make when I want some. It’s soft and subtle, like strong hands on your shoulders. A firm moment of serenity before indulging in pure chaos. No one even notices someone like me in the corner. I could be practically topless and most people look away instinctively. I don’t take it personally. When someone has a wall up it isn’t because they expected to meet me. The curiosity I have to offer is not always worth the risk if someone is comfortably settled in their daily patterns. Most people that seek my attention are desperate to feel anything, even if it’s with me. One persons’s creepy translates to another’s “Is he coming on to me?” Continue reading Rawr
Pain In The Neck
It’s been three years and I’m right where I started in Seattle. Greatly improved, but in the same place. No matter how the judges score, I definitely stuck the landing. Tattooing my neck is a culmination of my experiences here. I couldn’t have reached this point back in my hometown no matter how much I rebelled. Out here the hardest part to deal with is literal pain. Strangers take no glee in openly judging my personal appearance and most unsolicited comments are well-intended. It’s opposite of the ridicule my elders claimed I’d be subject to. They would’ve done better telling me how much it physically hurts. That pain is real. Continue reading Pain In The Neck
Moya Koshka
In 2001, three weeks after the World Trade Center collapsed, a tiny black & white piece of cat fell into my life. Working at Forest Hill Animal Hospital just off Poplar Ave, I’d made the rash decision to abandon college in Philadelphia and get a job as a vet tech. Not my worst decision, I wasn’t prepared for the level of dedication it takes to be myself. One day, a lady pulls into our parking lot with a Coca Cola delivery truck in tow. The driver opens the door and pulls out two crates placed together to make a box while The woman anxiously scurries to open the clinic door. We are waiting expectantly, more curious than concerned. Continue reading Moya Koshka
Some Alligator
The first of four days off is always the most optimistic. A small something gets done, another thing is put in its place. Half a hit of acid, 1 shaving accident and a conversation with my mother later I’m prepared for a night out with co-workers. She asks how I am, expresses condolences for Maya and updates me on my little sister. I did that thing where you think it’s normal skin but it’s the crest of a tendon on your left ankle and before you can stop there’s blood and an inch of skin lodged in your razor. I’m not quite stoned and just barely tripping enough to relax completely. They are supposed to show up around 9pm. Continue reading Some Alligator
Shorty’s
Earlier this month, I went out to play pinball and for the first time since living in Seattle, Shorty’s isn’t open. Knowing they re-open the next day, I count my blessings and settle for the Medieval Madness living at Streamline Tavern. I have it on good authority that is the original machine from Shorty’s iconic lineup. Last October, the game was pulled from Pinball Cove just before the last Shorty’s Annual tournament. The loss of Medieval Madness was noticed with a communal sigh and was the first significant omen of change. Moving an entire business down the street in less than a week is a hearty accomplishment. Months of preparation minimized downtime while fully inundating the new property with heart & soul from original Shorty’s. Under the leadership of the unflappable Shorty’s staff, volunteer clowns and dedicated regulars helped pull everything together with only minor hiccups. Continue reading Shorty’s
Trolling
Three years in and everything is still the same. More tattoos, less fear but pretty much the same. Despite reconciliation with most of the people from home I’m lonelier than ever. Confidence gained, I spent last summer trying to meet people and make friends in the places I frequent. Opening myself up for the first time since the Scott debacle feels like pushing on a creaky barn door. Rough-hewn and slightly rotted, it’s harder to close completely every time I wrench it open again. Willingness to face rejection is the easy part. Familiar and warm like a threadbare blanket it’s better than nothing at all. Staying open to good possibilities is much harder. I don’t have much room in my life for something serious so it’s a long interview process. The more I get to know someone worthwhile the more I anticipate the fall.
If my affection could produce confetti, he would get me banned from public places. Passion bursting like fireworks in the corners of my brain, I’m forced to hold my self at bay while he peddles in social politics. Even if I pledged myself to his well-being I’d be received as no more than an annoyance. It’s well documented how unlikable I am even when my feelings are honest. I love getting to know interesting people and forming genuine connections but I don’t want to play pretend. I don’t have anything to hide. As life goes, I probably dodged a bullet not aimed at me. Still, I saw something worth trying for and I think I’m better for the attempt. At least I have a good reason to stop spending money in Fremont. Everybody wins!
I knew if things went south I’m not hanging out at Add-A-Ball anymore. Short, impromptu visits are all that’s left to me now. Much like a family gathering, get there early and leave when it’s difficult to find a seat. I can imagine him standing around with his friends regaling them with tales of my craziness. Maybe even sharing the messages I keep sending as part of the humongous joke he’s pulled off. I know that’s just narcissistic speculation on my part but if anyone appreciates boldface narcissism it’s this guy. It’s one of the things I like most about him. Unapologetically full of himself, there’s a real person there doing his best to optimize this shitstorm called life. I appreciate the evidence of struggle and the ease with which he deflects what fate throws. I miss kissing kissing his neck underneath the beard.
I keep trying to ignore the obvious and persevere in the face of decrepitude. Compelled to say the things no one else will, I’d rather be a loner than shallow. To some people’s delight I operate more like a tool, not always aware why stating the obvious is upsetting. Regardless, I’ve accepted my true nature including the tenuous connection with reality. It seems likely I’ll be alone forever. The fate of a troll. More commonly recognized on the internet where we can express ourselves with comfortable distance and anonymity, I’m a follower of the old ways. Trolling can only truly happen face-to-face when someone is listening to what you say. It’s not necessarily malicious even if harsh. The truth is as unforgiving as first impressions and our only saving grace is consistency. The difference between a bitch and a troll is whether she’s after something.
Why I Don’t Play Monday Night Pinball
Like most of the service industry, Monday night is my traditional night off. It’s time I’ve spent fostering a handful of hobbies, including pinball. Stopping by Shorty’s on Monday evening became part of my routine almost immediately upon moving to Seattle. An unofficial standing commitment at Rendezvous put me in striking distance of my favorite dive bar. Pinball Cove is my mermaid’s cave as I learn to dance with the silver ball. At first, I didn’t know anything about special events. I just know some Mondays were more crowded than others. Immune to anything other than my own desire to play, I happily accepted Safecracker as my game when all the others were taken. The best part of being new to Seattle is identifying as a beggar among choosers.
Continue reading Why I Don’t Play Monday Night Pinball
When Games Break
I believe wholeheartedly in human error. I’m not the person to blame a machine, even when Nintendo cheats. But what do you do when the ball is unexpectedly stuck? When you don’t know what is exactly supposed to happen but you’re pretty sure that’s not it. Do you complain? Blame the machine? Call for a rematch? Or do you just get on with your life and accept the defeat. Most of the time my instinct is to not make a big deal about it. Technically the malfunction is a problem but would it have changed the match? The better I get the more I sheepishly say, “Maybe?” Continue reading When Games Break