I somehow made it through my first 10k. The 6.2 miles were BRUTAL, with some gnarly hills around north Capitol Hill. Running the tight uphill curves around Interlaken almost made me toss my cookies, but thinking about my Mom and her ovarian cancer got me pissed off enough to barrel through.

Here is to hoping that more little girls don’t have to grow up without their moms. And tell someone that you love them today. I sure did. <3

I sat on the far end of the couch, absentmindedly chewing at a fingernail while watching him cautiously out of the corner of my eye. I was pooling all my resources to keep a calm exterior, trying so hard to not sit and stare. I, for one, would not feel comfortable with that type of attention from a stranger - feeling eyes following my every move, ears greedily grabbing every word falling from my mouth. I was afraid to watch him for too long or to let our eyes lock, because it would take only a moment with my guard down and my spellbound face would do all the awkward confessing: I devolved into a fanatic fourteen year old falling quickly for the pop star du jour. But alas, he was different. This was different.

With every twist in his tale there was a slight motion in his fingers, as if he was typing out the manuscript to this incredulous story. As the climax of the story came, he pulled his hat off his head and ran his fingers through his hair, with the moment of silence adding to the drama. I have never seen someone tell a tale with such casual skill. His body language hid any pretension and the nonchalance in delivery made his fantastical gift of storytelling seem as insignificant as brushing teeth or tying shoelaces. It was natural, engaging, and it made me fall hard. A quick survey of the other faces put my rising concerns at ease - we were all under his spell, grasping for his next word as if it were our next fix.

The story? It is completely, wholly irrelevant. What was so critical was this man holding court on this cloth throne could have snubbed the pathetic peons gathered at his feet below. I was in the midst of greatness, and it took great skill to hide the giant smile under my clenched fist. If my hand fell from my mouth, with my grin showing my enthusiasm, the slippery slope would pull me into an unknown abyss with depths incomprehensible. And it would be disconcerting for a total stranger to profess unwavering admiration mere hours after their first introduction.

My SFO visit became more of an East Bay visit, which is perfectly fine by me. Effectively hunkering down, a dramatic and complicated 29th birthday in Seattle transformed itself into a wonderful, healing weekend with the most amazing people surrounding me. It’s unforgettable and special in many ways, and I’m biting my tongue to stop the cheesy sentiment from disrupting your screen and initiating your upchuck reflex - let’s just say that my friends are the greatest and I’m lucky to have them in my life.

Oh, and The Dark Knight?  HOT DAMN. Best movie I’ve seen of the year, no doubt.

On Saturday I’ll be high in the air San Francisco bound. As a birthday gift to myself, I bought a ticket to see some of nearest and dearest before I head to Denmark. So consider yourself warned, SFO. You better start warning your strippers now, getting your Guitar Hero tuned, and dusting off your dancing shoes, cause I’m-a-headed your way.

I’m sure I’ll do a very navel-gazing post about what turning 29 means and bid 28 a proper adieu, but I’ll save that for later.

I’ve once again fallen in love with my head.

I suppose I should backtrack a bit. Yes, my head and I had a bit of a falling out. My thoughts and worries and concerns piled atop each other in the weird little crannies in my head. These little malignant fuckers joined forces with a new quarter at school, which caused me to care about things I don’t really care about. This faux care filled the space that my idiosyncratic tendencies did not. My heavy mind started to become my downfall. There were many nights when I spent hours staring at screens filled with psychoanalytic babble, trying to figure out what was wrong with my head and why I was so damn unhappy.

But thankfully June came and went and the critical mass alert I heard ringing through the dark crevasses in my cranium faded. Once my stress level went down, some of the Tetris Stacked Piles of Panic and Doom just sort of puffed away into non-existence. Then I started balancing my life out by spending time with friends and being outside and started seriously running. Finally, the Sisyphean task of keeping my mind functional disappeared.

Taking the place of worry and concern is my latest obsession with a place called home: What is it? What does it look like? How does it make me feel? Who is invited in? Where is this mythical place even at?

While I may not know the answers to these questions, it is a fun thing to think about. Knowing that I will be homeless in a few months is most definitely the catalyst, but by no means the only reason why this is ballooning in importance. At the end of August, I’ll be shoving all my piece-of-shit, hand-me-down possessions into a dank and smelly storage unit, giving up my apartment, and moving to Denmark for three and a half months. Upon my return to the wintery and dark Seattle, I’ll have to find a new home. Or “home,” rather.

The dilemma is that I’m not sure I have a home, even when I have a roof over my head. I don’t have the luxury of having all the people I love in one area. Instead, they are cast across the land like wildflower seeds. I don’t ABSOLUTELY ORGASMICALLY LOVE a single city. I find myself happily floating around wherever I have landed in the last ten years (Portland, Northern California, etc.). And since it looks like I’ll be graduating next year, I can even entertain the idea of leaving Seattle.

So what does it take to call a place home? Can you get those butterflies for an area like you get when you kiss someone, with your body telling you to pay attention because this particular city is really awesome? Or is it more like a bus stop, where you get off at the closest place that is convenient, without emotion or feelings entering the picture?

All I know is that my feet are getting a little weary and my heart is growing a bit long. It feels like it is time to find home.

The run above may not look like much, but HOO DAMN it kicked my ass this morning. A couple of decent hills coupled with 80 degree weather was enough to make me want to stop mid-run, sit on a curb, and whine until someone gave me a ride home. My reward for not stopping was around Aloha and Federal, where I crested the hill and could see down past Seattle Center into the sparkling Puget Sound and the majestic Olympic Mountains. Needless to say, the rest was a breeze…

I promise I won’t normally document my runs here. You all come here for my trademark snark (or massive failure thereof), not lame running shit, but I was proud for running a long distance on a difficult route.

If you are in Seattle, have a happy Pride Weekend.

So, remember way back in March when I had my RBFPA day? Well, I do. That day sucked. Balls.

The one good thing that came of that whole experience was a renewed dedication to myself - or rather, my body. Since then I’ve been a lot better about what I eat, making sure I get my body moving, and taking care of my mind.

Part of this project of making myself better involved setting up a running goal around mid-April. Why running? Well, partly because I kept using my lack of stamina as an excuse to push off joining a soccer league. I do miss those muddy, shin-aching, ball-kicking evenings of team sports. But mostly because it’s something that is really hard for me to do. I’ve always been more of a sprinting type since I was a wee lass. In April, running a 5k distance without stopping seemed akin to asking me to do a standing back handspring while balancing a pint of Fuller’s on my head.

Funny thing happened though - I actually accomplished this goal last Friday. To celebrate, I committed myself to a weekend of debauchery, including copious amounts of beer drinking, not counting calories, and other unmentionable sins (*cough*).

So now I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with myself. I thought about doing a triathlon. The biggest obstacle for dedicating myself to that goal are the dickwads on Craigslist who don’t answer emails about their bikes for sale. Now my newest goal is to extend my running distance to 10k. In a month. It’s for a good cause though.

I’ve registered for the Swedish Summer Run, and you should join me. You can do a 5k walk, 5k run, or 10k run. It’s for a good cause (ovarian cancer, which my Mom died of, so it’s pretty personal to me) and you can see me sweaty and gross, which may or may not be a bonus.

Also, because I’m hitting a motivation wall, I’ve set up a private list on my livejournal account to track my workouts and my macros, which will help keep me accountable for what I’m doing and putting into my body. If you are a voyeur like I am, you may be interested in all my silly statistics. I know I find other people’s similar updates informative and interesting, and maybe I can provide the same. If you want to be on the list, let me know.

Yup, that’s the sound of tumbleweeds floating across this dry, desolate land that is my blog. It’s been a bit on purpose. Sorry about that.

I’ve been busy learning more about Denmark in preparation for my Fall quarter abroad, reading deliciously bad fiction to make up for the six straight months of academic literature, enjoying the sunshine, and chasing evil blues away.

Part of this therapeutic moment for me has involved listening to A LOT of Mirah. I’ve always has such a crush on her. She reminds me of sunshine and parks and the grass and the sun. I figured it is only appropriate that I share her with you.

I’m sad the video quality sucks. But there aren’t a whole lot of ways you can both see and hear such cuteness on the internets. Either way, enjoy!

The most challenging, rewarding class I’ve taken in a long time is “Media, Society, and Political Identity”. We’ve been grappling with issues I’ve been mulling over for years, and it’s been both challenging and frustrating to encounter differing opinions and reading academic literature dealing with how changes in the media have shifted global politics. But my intention is not to advertise for the class. This video might convince you in ways that I cannot…

Yup, my classmates did it. Whereas my group failed pretty miserably with the video assignment (which was to create a video with a political message - thats it), these people really made it something exciting and inspiring. If you do like it, go to the YouTube page and vote for it. They get some extra credit, which I feel is totally deserved.

Watch the whole ending. Thank me later.