Vote on or before November 3rd!!!

Please navigate to my other blog to read what I have to say today. http://blogaboutfaith.blogspot.com/2009/10/r-71-you-signed-for-it-to-go-on-ballot.html

Thank you.

Off The Beaten Path

In my attempt to re-discover Seattle, I googled a bunch of places that are "off the beaten path" around town. Ironically, half of the ones that I already discovered were mentioned absolutely nowhere, making me feel extra special for knowing about them. But some others looked quite enticing, so I drew up a mental map of all the spots I'll visit and explore after work. Instead, I stayed home and watched a movie. I could assign that to general laziness or being tired. But I think the secret lies in the fact that my place is exactly like one of those little-known spots around town that you just hang on to and keep visiting because they are so gorgeous.

In my city explorations I mostly seek out places with views and beautiful sunsets. Or the ones that bring out the calm and serenity in me. My apartment does both -- only in addition to everything else it's heated. The view from my windows hardly could be beat by any other place. Sitting on top of a hill and facing west, the sunsets that the house shows are astounding. And the setting around my street in the fall is nothing less than fairy-tale like. In addition, my place offers a cozy blanket, warm tea and great food. No wonder I don't want to go exploring after coming home after work!

The kinds of places I love:

The way from the bus to my house:

The sunset out of my window:

What's not to love?! :) :)

Moburg

In the two months of living in Seattle, I have successfully managed to get stuck in the rut of routine. Instead of using the time to explore the city, as I surely thought I would after moving here, I find myself going to work, coming home, and going out to the same places over and over again on a daily basis. I've stopped taking walks around downtown at lunch. I've stopped noticing coffee shops, to the point that when a friend from Canada came to visit I ended up taking him to... Starbucks. Nothing less than embarrassing for a Seattleite. I've stopped walking into random antique shops and boutiques in search of original treasures. I've stopped being fascinated.

But coffee with a friend last night rekindled my interest. We met up at Grand Central Arcade - a historic building that originally hosted Watson C. Squire's Opera house -- Seattle's first formal theater. It is now the home of a number of eccentric shops, as well as the famous Grand Central Bakery with its out-of-this world butter croissants. The Arcade is a bubble of the past where a movie-like setting of red brick walls and wooden railings meets modern day technology in the form of laptops and i-phones plopped up on the tables of mid-day snacking freelancers, researchers and interviewers.

But the most fascinating item living in the romantic lobby is actually a painting. With all creative interests filling up my life, I somehow never developed any interest in art. I've had the privilege of visiting many famous Russian museums, hosting myriads of incredible art galleries. But the sections I usually skipped to were royal fashion expositions and decorated rooms. No art gallery or single painting could ever hold my attention for longer than a few seconds, and none of them have really stood out to me enough to stick with my mind for a long time.

This said, I did have two random love affairs with artistic creations. One of them was a wooden sculpture of an ostridge with its head hiding underneath whatever surface was hosting it. When I was about 11, it was for sale at a small shop in old Riga -- my hometown -- and I went to "visit" the ostridge at least once a week until it was sold, much to my disappointment. My second love affair came my freshmen year in high school, when as part of a writing class we had to complete an assignment on abstract art. It turned out to be my most successful assignment, as the painting that I got to write about was Kandinsky's "Yellow-Red-Blue." The vibrancy of the colors, as well as the "lion head" so clearly sticking out to me from the picture, made my imagination run wild. Since then nothing has really stuck with me. Until last night when I saw THE painting hanging on one of the walls of Grand Central Arcade.

The painting depicts a foggy, dimly lit Pioneer Square station. It's empty, except for two dancers. A woman and... a rat. The rat is wearing a suit and evokes feelings of pity for having to hide in the night rather than disgust or mistrust. I couldn't stop staring at the piece in fascination, actually interrupting my friend's conversation to point it out once I noticed it. The painting stirred up real, genuine, emotion. We sat in front of it and talked about all the possible scenarios depicted for a good ten minutes. Only about three minutes into the conversation I noticed that the woman on the painting actually has rooster legs. I came up closer to the item that captured my attention after so many years of disinterest in anything paint-related. The inscription in the bottom right corner read "Moburg."

Needless to say that the next morning the Sherlock inside got the best of me, and Grand Central and Moburg were googled in all possible combinations. There wasn't much info on the latter. What I've managed to find out is only that the artists name is Bruce Moburg, and that he was a Seattle based artist who won some 1999 pi contest for postcard prints. From the looks of it, Mr. Moburg passed away on November 22, 2007, but his art can still be found "around the city." My curiosity is at it's peak as I can't wait to explore the town more in depth in search of more of his creations. I'd also love to know who is in charge of decorating Grand Central, and how they got a hold of the mouseman and one other Moburg painting.

I can imagine starting up an expensive, eccentric, and random collection. I will search for Moburgs and try to buy them off from current owners. People who come visit will be fascinated by the mouseman -- the one that started it all -- and wonder who Moburg is. It will be something my own, something unique, something Seattle-only... just like the Arcade and the painting currently hanging on its wall. But I'm thinking that will only happen once I am rich, and own a living room as big as the Grand Central Arcade patio which currently hosts the dancers in the fog... For now, I'm just happy that something managed to renew my fascination and curiosity for the city.

Bus Gossip 2

It's like the 'loudspeakers' on the bus heard me and decided to give me a present: more hilarious things to tell the world! Yesterday's conversation was over the phone, so naturally I only picked up half of it. But from what I heard I think I can extract a pretty accurate storyline. After all, what hasn't been deduced by my impeccable perception skills can be easily substituted by my imagination. The story "relayed" to me was by a younger woman, apparently on the phone with her friend. Here's enough to know about her to completely scare the crap out of the girl if you should ever meet:

Apparently she is either a very close friend of, or dating, a man who has a small child with another woman. Last week it was his birthday, for which his parents threw him a party. He asked the girl later why she didn't come, and she had to endure the awkwardness of the moment in which she told him it was because the parents haven't invited her. Apparently, the guy has shared custody of the kid and either lives at home or just drops him or her off at his parents a lot, because to answer the question whether the grandparents mind, she said that they don't because at least this way they can ensure that their grandchild is fed and has everything.

An unusual answer, but apparently the mother is slightly crazy. To save money, she disconnected electricity, which is what heats up the water in the house. In order to bathe, she boils water in pots on a stove. For lighting, she uses candles. The girl was dismayed about a lifestyle like this with two elementary school age kids in the house. (She should try living in Russia... Nothing unusual about that there!) From this I deduced that the mother also has a child with someone else.... oh the drama of life! Why the girl would want to get involved in a situation like this remained a mystery to all on the bus... Juicy as the story was, the second one she blabbed was just as good!

The girl told her friend that she doesn't work "there" anymore and has a new job now. Apparently, there was something fishy going on at "the French place." The owner was also the manager because nobody else stepped up to the position. This was annoying, because she let people go for no apparent reason. After about a month of working at the place and being very helpful, the girl got called into the owners' office and told that "it's not working out." She was given reasons that in her mind were simply irrelevant. The reasons were that her coffee service is too slow and that she stands around too much. (Is it just me, or does this sound like a pretty relevant reason?!) She was offered the option of staying on call. But apparently has found other employment. She also suspected that half of the employees at the place worked under the table, since the owner never asked her to fill out any W-2's or anything. (I think she meant W-4's though....)

I think that it's time for me to make business cards that say "read about this conversation tomorrow at this link," and pass them out on the bus. I'm sure people would get a kick out of it.

Bus Gossip

Apparently a good profession to be in Seattle is a therapist. Yes, there are several in this great city, but they all have waiting lists. And how do I know? Bus gossip. What exactly is that? It's when two friends, completely oblivious to the rest of the people on the bus, tell each other their deepest, darkest secrets, all the while thinking that nobody can hear them or is interested in what they are saying. Unfortunately, those types are usually only few on the bus, so their voices carry REALLY well, making the others interested even if they weren't in the beginning. They just have no choice. And yesterday's story was pretty entertaining.

Apparently the two friends both have only recently moved to Seattle. From what I understood, one of them was from New York (Why would someone do that to themselves?!). Both have joined meetup groups and went to several meetings around the city in hopes of finding friends. Instead, they got constantly clogged e-mails. Both have now stopped going. One of them works in a medical profession, which I know because she was talking about referring clients to a therapist. That's when the story got good.

The two women griped about how there aren't any good therapists in the city, at least that insurance covers. And how it's a shame that to see them there is a huge waiting list, and when you finally make that appointment, you never hit it off. One of them then proceeded to tell a story of her friend Katie, who, apparently, wouldn't mind her telling it because she told a room full of people. (Probably completely unaware that the entire city will soon find out!) To an open heart-to-heart about relationship issues, Katies' therapist proceeded to tell her that she has a good friend that Katie would be perfect for and that she can hook them up! After Katie didn't make any more appointments, the therapist called her and asked if it was something she said. The women went on and on about how unprofessional that was. I sat nearby "not listening" intently.

I have to say, I love when stories like this happen. And I just wish that the whole Seattle read my blog and wondered who the heck I am. Because then they would all be careful about relaying confidential information to each other on busses and trains and keep it down. And the rest of us commuters would have an opportunity to listen to our i-pods and read our literature without having to become involuntary witnesses to stories about people we've never met. No matter how entertaining they might be.

Secret Shelter

On some days a person just deserves a break. Morning comes too early, work is too hectic, financial discipline unbearable, and lunch forgotten to be made. On days like that I allow myself a little indulgence: eating out at my favorite place downtown. With the entrance being tucked away in the maze of Pike Place Market, the small Bar&Grill is actually smack in the middle of all the action. Never crowded at lunch, and almost empty, if you arrive a little before or after, the place is a people-watcher's heaven. The windows face the market, and from the height of the second floor, I can observe everything that's going on down on the street without any fear that anyone will notice. People run back and forth, homeless walk around begging for change, and tourists take endless pictures by the sign, by the fish, and by the huge metal pig placed in front of the entrance.

There's a building across the street which holds the sign "La Salle Hotel" on it. From the posters on the windows, as well as the different kinds of curtains and blinds on every floor, I have deduced that it no longer serves as a hotel. But the building almost hauntingly draws me to itself. I have walked around pike place trying to find the entrance several times now, with no luck. No online searches on the title have given back any satisfying results. The place seems depressing and sad from the outside. But my imagination runs wild thinking what the inside holds. It brings to life several scenarios:

~A hardwood floor suite with curtains on the windows and a boudoir in a dimly lit room; a cabaret performer is doing her make-up in a pink velvet robe and silk stiletto slippers. Playing in the background is an old record of classical jazz. Her emotions are all over the place: happiness from success and the anticipation of the rush that takes over her body whenever she first steps on stage is mixed with a sadness and a longing for something deeper and more meaningful. A tear glides down a perfect face as she stares in the mirror and doesn't recognize herself in the reflection.

~ A carpeted room is filled with clutter made up of books, papers, paintings and cd's. The couch is overtaken by boxes of documents, maps, and clothes. A guy in his late twenties is sitting by the couch with a pen in his hand, staring thoughtfully into the notepad on his lap. He's wearing a hat, t-shirt and corduroy pants, and hasn't shaved for a while. There's no point, since he's not planning to go outside, into the rain, and into the influence of the bustling world... It's unclear if he's a song writer or a novelist. But the thoughts he is trying to express have taken over his mind and body. He sits still, biting his pen, and concentrating on the empty lines that his heart is ready to fill but the mind isn't ready to find.

~ There's no light in the room. All it holds is an empty bed with worn-out linens that smell like grandma's closet. Lightning strikes. No one occupies this place. Somehow the room has been forgotten from the past. The furniture is still the same as it was when the place was a hotel. It sits still and silent, not giving away any of its secrets, with only the bed and dresser aware of everything that has happened within the four walls. It gives out a chilly vibe. No one has lived in it for years -- an unexplainable phenomenon on Seattle's housing market. Somehow the landlords don't care. Or maybe they have been getting rent for the place for years now from a Mr. Smith who holds the place for himself but never goes anywhere close to it. Or maybe the unit somehow slipped through the accounting cracks of a large property-management company and nobody has noticed that it has been empty for so long...

These thoughts occupy my mind every time my eyes see the sign from across the street. Before long I have to step out of my daydream and go back to work. But the forty minutes I have to muse and wonder give me the energy to deal with real life situations for the rest of the day.

Career Realizations

The past year has definitely been one of self-discovery for me. Straight out of college and in this economy, I got the first job that came my way -- an admin position. But I was lucky to get it at a good company, which gave me plenty of opportunity to figure out what exactly I'd like to do in life. By opportunity I don't mean options handed to me on a silver platter with a cookie-cutter explanation of exactly what I'm doing. It was more like a chance to get involved in a bunch of various projects doing a lot of different things. Because of that, I now know that I love to write, hate busy work (who doesn't?) and enjoy interacting with customers in person. Paradoxically, for professional communication I prefer e-mail... But that's not that relevant.

Through the process of self-realization I've discovered that I have a couple problems. Although I'm a creative person who loves photography, writing, dancing, singing, playing piano, decorating, fashion, editing and translating, none of these "hobbies" would ever turn into a flourishing career because of a certain mindset I have towards things I HAVE to do. The moment something I like turns into something I promised, a natural aversion to the project suddenly appears. Thus, I browse websites and ads looking for editors and writers and never hand in any work. Maybe it's because I have an aversion to rules and limitations. I have no clue how to deal with this problem, but realizing that you have one is the first step to solving it, right?

For me to function well, I have to be inspired. And inspiration comes at the most random moments in my life! For example, I had quite an experience this morning when a photography urge suddenly came over me and I started taking pictures of all the staff from my office (we all had to help out at an event). Conversely, I will admit that I don't react well to criticism -- at least initially. After I dwell on it for a while, I do realize that a lot of things that people say are constructive and I should act on them. But the slightest hint of negativity can make me abandon creative projects for week. Suddenly I feel like I'm not qualified to do what I'm doing. Maybe that's why the best of me comes out when no one has any expectations... And once again, I realize that that's a problem, but don't know how to deal with it yet.

If you are a qualified problem-solving expert, please feel free to leave a comment suggesting how to deal with this. But even with problems, becoming aware of everything you like and don't has been a great experience. Life is an interesting thing :)