On a less humorous (but

On a less humorous (but more momentous) note… yesterday was the ONE-YEAR anniversary of our move to Seattle. One whole year since the day we drove around Kent, utterly lost, looking desperately for the Extended Stay Motel (in a total panic because of how badly we had to pee.) Tomorrow will be the one-year anniversary of us getting sideswiped by the migrant worker with no brakes and no insurance on our way to Bumbershoot. How are we going to celebrate? Why, by going to Bumbershoot, of course!

It’s strange that we’ve been here for so long, and yet it still feels so temporary. Maybe that’s due to my obsession with not staying any one place for very long, not having the same hair color for very long, not wearing the same style of clothing for very long, not hanging out with the same people for very long. I thrive on change - or, rather, I’ve grown so accustomed to it that the idea of NOT changing terrifies me. It’s really a wonder that Bill puts up with it. He’s the first best friend I’ve had for more than a year. Ever. He’s also the first roommate I’ve had for more than a year. Ever. Aside from my house up until I was 14, this apartment is the first place I’ve lived for more than a school year… and I’m itching to get out of it. It’s starting to feel old. I love to constantly refresh, re-examine, re-imagine. Each chance to start anew feels like a chance to do it right. And, after awhile, each ‘new start’ begins to feel old, and I alter everything and start again. Maybe this is why I’ve always been so fond of tattoos and piercings - every new hole, every new drop of ink, is a memento for me of some ‘new phase’ in my life, and it remains (in one form or another) long after that new start has been thrown out. Or, occasionally, some of them remind me of new leaves that remained turned over.