Monday, 24 March 2014

Breaking the Dam



The first plane ride that I ever took was headed for Japan. My parents were in charge of an international exchange student program and had been invited to attend a high school graduation there. They decided to bring their youngest daughter along for a little cultural education. Our destination was for Kagoshima, a city in the south of Japan. It was a conservative place where few tourists visited and my mom knew it. She took me shopping giving me colorful and loud clothes, trimmed my blonde hair and pierced my ears for the first time. Being the youngest I was used to hand-me-downs and being forgotten at restaurants and stores. I loved the attention and new things I was receiving: a girl could get used to this.
Once we arrived in Japan we toured the south along with the necessary business meetings that involved fancy restaurants where I sat on the ground and had to remain painfully silent, eating raw fish. I have to admit, as much as I desired attention, the constant invasion of my personal space was slightly overwhelming: my hair was stroked and my face was petted. My mom succeeded at her aim to make me different: I could have been spotted miles away.

One particular day my parents and I were waiting for a train finishing up a long day of tourism. A large group of boys coming from school entered the station on their way home. Being that this happened about fourteen years ago, my memory is a little burry, but from what I do remember there may have been around ten thirteen or fifteen year old boys. They looked at me and made a beeline to where my parents and I sat.
I scooted even closer to my mom for protection, I felt severely outnumbered. All the boys circled around me, and the leader of the group sat down next to me.
“You are very beautiful.” He said sweetly.
I blushed and mumbled my thanks. I could hear my parents giggling. The leader of the group of boys kept on asking me questions of where I was from and how old I was. They were surprised I was only ten because of how tall I was. It was true, at the time I was tall for my age and even was the tallest in my elementary school class, I was proud of it. It was difficult for me to concentrate on what these boys were asking me. I’m sure they were very pleasant, but I had never been “hit on” by anyone before. I had witnessed it happen multiple times to all of my older sisters but other than little crushes from my fellow classmates, it had never happened to me and I didn’t like it. It wasn’t that I couldn’t understand him; it was that in my frazzled state I literally couldn’t hear him.

My parents were kind enough to answer their questions for me being that I was unable to. My heart was beating so hard it was all I could listen to. In the theory of fight or flight, the flight symptoms were beginning to kick in.
I turned to my parents and mumbled if I could get money for some soda. Knowing I was looking for an excuse to escape. My dad smiled and gave me enough money to run to the soda machine conveniently located just outside. Without saying goodbye I left as quickly as I could. I felt like the soda machine was some sort of saving grace. I bought a coke and then checked to see if the group of boys was still where I left them. Sure enough they were, chatting happily with my parents.
I waited for a long time, hiding behind the soda machine, hoping that my train didn’t come before theirs did. Eventually luck showed itself to be on my side. The group of young teenage boys eventually left and I gingerly made my way to my very amused parents.
My parents teased me then, and they continually teased me after. Fifteen years later to the day, one of their favorite stories is to tell about the time their little innocent ten-year-old daughter was hit on in Japan. Unbeknown to both them and me at the time, it was a moment that broke the dam. 


Monday, 17 March 2014

The Begining of the End



The day before Halloween in the year 2010 a few friends and I decided to try out a small bar near my apartment that I had never been to. It was called ‘Victory’ which ironically was involved in some of my biggest mistakes in the future... but those stories are for another day. We walked altogether to Victory passing by many people who were already dressed in costume. Once we arrived, I noticed it was next to a venue bursting with heavy metal music. We walked passed it and entered the tiny, dank bar.

I had recently turned twenty-two years old and had a summer in Uganda and a spring in Italy. During my time away I had lost weight, cut my hair short, and had gained an interest in fashion. That was not the only change that I had gone through. During my time abroad I had gained a great deal of experience on the best way to entice men into desiring me. I had gained so much confidence in the subject that I became vain. Sitting at the table with my friends I was laughing and reminiscing with one particular girl whom we will call Jen. We compared study abroad experiences, hers in The Republic of Ireland and mine in Perugia, Italy.
“It came to the point where I would leave for the night with only my keys in my pocket. No phone, no money and yet I could still come home drunk from all the free drinks offered me.” I laughed.
“Well that’s because you were in Italy.” Jen groaned. “There all men want blonde girls.”
She had challenged my capabilities with men. What I heard her say was that I was lucky only because I was in Italy, and because I was blonde: no other reason. Now that I was back in Seattle, perhaps I would find the game a little more difficult.


“Oh come on Jen! It’s easier than you think. You don’t have to be blonde or in Italy. All men are the same. I can show you!”
“Yes! Show me! Use your cobra powers to get some poor soul to buy you drinks.”
I laughed, finishing my first cup of gin and tonic and looked around. Through the window I was facing, I saw a dark haired man smoking outside in the cold with his friends. I found him attractive enough for this dare. He caught me looking at him, and I smiled. Not knowing how to react, he looked at me for a moment, and then awkwardly looked away.


“What about him.” I pointed out the window.
Jen looked behind her and nodded, “Yup, he’s good enough. Here, you finished your drink, let me get you another glass of liquid courage.” She got up and ordered more drinks.
It was perhaps another half hour before my friends needed to take a smoking break outside, and by this time the man I had seen through the window had disappeared. I joined my friends as I always did to be social. After two drinks, and being a lightweight I was already feeling a buz. I was chit chatting with the group I was with happily, being that alcohol puts me in a pleasant mood. I then saw him walking out of the loud, heavy metal venue.
“Well there he is: go cobra, strike!” Jen laughed.
I laughed along with her and nodded, turned, sauntering towards this stranger. I hadn’t planned on what to say or what to do, and so through the slight fog of alcohol and the short walk, I concocted a plan.


I saw him look at me, confused, yet curious as to why I was walking up to him. “Hey, do we know each other? I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere.” I asked.
He looked at his friend, then back at me. “Uh, I-I don’t know. Could we have possibly met at Rich Bateman’s party?”
I convincingly looked frustrated. “No… hmm, how embarrassing. I could have sworn you looked familiar.”
He laughed nervously. “I have one of those faces, I guess.”
I laughed too. “Maybe.”
“Well, I’m Jared.” He extended his hand. I shook it and introduced myself. He told me that he was there to support his friends who were playing in a band in the venue that had been playing the obtrusive music.
“Oh, wow! Well, when you guys are done, you should come and join me and my friends in Victory.” I smiled flirtatiously.
“I will.” He replied with a slightly eager tone in his voice, which let me know he would be an easy one.
I turned around and walked back to my friends who were all looking at me questioningly. I smiled at them. “Well he said he would be stopping by the bar soon.”
“Well done.” Jen laughed. “But I won’t be able to see you work. I am drunk, and I have to go home. Go on cobra, strike!” She laughed and walked away. I was left with my roommate at the time, Andrea and her boyfriend who were also both getting drunk, which meant that they would erupt in a fight soon. The three of us walked back into Victory as I waited for either Jared to come in, or for Andrea and her boyfriend to fight. As I sat in the bar I realized, being that Jen left I didn’t have to fulfill the dare she’d put me under. I could just go home and forget about this whole thing.
Then I watched Jared walk in to Victory with his friends and without saying hi or even looking at me, he went straight outside on the deck to smoke. No. I wasn’t going to forget about this, I was going to do this for me. I walked up and followed him out onto the deck.
“Hey,” I smiled.
“Hey.” He replied kindly.
“I was waiting for you, but now my friends are about to leave so now I have to go.”
“Oh no! I was just about to go inside to see you, I promise. Don’t go yet, please, I’ll be right in.” I grinned. If I hadn’t been sure he was interested before, I knew he was now.


“Alright, but if you aren’t in soon, I’ll have to leave.”
I turned and walked back into the bar. I gave my purse to Andrea, who was already looking completely unhappy and kept my keys in my pocket. While I watched Andrea and her boyfriend leave, Jared came back in.
He walked up to me and offered me a drink. “Yeah that would be great.” I smiled. “A gin and tonic seems to be my drink for the night.” Well, the first task was completed. Now I supposed all I really needed to do was… have fun.
Jared came back with two drinks in his hand and sat right next to me. Our conversation was easy enough. I found out that he was a construction worker who lived in Everett and I told him I was finishing my last year of college at an Art school called Cornish. We argued which city was better, Seattle or Portland and we talked about our favorite types of music. Eventually he asked where the nearest convenient store was so he could buy a new pack of cigarettes.
“Yeah sure, I’ll show you!” I piped up.
Now, the thing about alcohol is that it takes that voice of reason that helps you make good decisions and turns the volume down so low that its easy to ignore. At this time, when I told him that I would take him to the nearest store, that voice said that it was unwise, being that I didn’t know what kind of person he was, or if he was safe. But three cups of gin and tonic was enough for me to ignore the thought.
We left, and as soon as we turned the corner he stopped and pulled me into him and kissed me. I remember being completely amused. He kissed me so passionately that it seemed to me that perhaps he was a little desperate. Our journey to the convenient store consisted of this: a bit of walking and talking, then the conversation being interrupted with kisses. There was even one point when I realized which street we were on.
“Hey, come here.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him across the street.
“What is it?” He asked as I stopped him and pointed at the pavement below us.
“Look where you’re standing: it’s the geographical center of the city.” I beamed.
He bent down to get a better look in the darkness. “Whoa! Look at that! I would have never guessed that it would be in such a random place.”

I stepped on the plaque and pulled him close to me. A while before I had made it a point to kiss someone at interesting locations: beautiful vistas, highest points, even grave sites. This particular place seemed ideal.
We finally made it to the store then walked all the way back to the bar holding hands. I remember thinking about how strange it was when guys would want to hold hands when they only just met me. It seemed like such an affectionate thing to do and I always found it uncomfortable. But I let them hold my hand anyway.
“So, when you asked me if we knew each other, did you really think that we had met before?” He asked shyly.
“Nope. I just wanted an excuse to meet you.” I admitted. He seemed to like that answer.
We stopped by the bar one more time and ordered our last drinks, and I knew I had my limit. I visited the bathroom and found it extremely difficult to walk straight when the whole world was tipping. I looked at myself in the mirror, and was not pleased at what I saw. I was pale and disheveled with dark circles under my eyes. I had no idea how I was going to get to work the next day. How could I get rid of this guy? I knew I had given him the hope of some sort of pay off later, which I had no intention of doing.

I was tired, drunk and having a hard time functioning. Jared wanted to walk around some more, so we left the bar once again. The rest of the night was filled with making out and petting. There was even one point when a security guard came to make us move off the building’s property.
Finally we were standing with my back against a wall of some old building, and I remember thinking, when is this going to end. That was the point when Jared started saying things like, “Oh God, I want you so much.” and “So what is the plan?” and “ You know I have condoms in my car.” That was enough. I was done. My brain started to work again and logic began to warn me about how much I really didn’t know this guy, and how vulnerable I was at that moment.
I finally firmly pushed on his chest and smiled alluringly. “Walk me back to my apartment?” I didn’t even like the idea of showing him where I lived, but I had to get back there safely. I was going into defense mode.
He kindly walked me back to my apartment, and when I opened the door to walk in, I noticed he began to follow me so I turned around. “And you’re not coming in.” I said while still smiling sweetly. I could see slight disappointment on his face, but still he took it with a smile, which made me think that perhaps he was better than I thought. But I had enough.
“Can I have your number then?”
“Well that’s the thing too, I don’t give out my number either.” Which was true enough. I’d made it a rule to not give out my phone number to strangers. Especially men. I saw the smile fade then.
“Good night! I had a fun time.” Then I shut the door quickly and turned without looking back.
The next morning I had the worst hangover and some faded bruises on my neck that I had a hard time covering and feeling a little stupid and regretful. 


Monday, 10 March 2014

First Kiss

The first story I thought I would begin this blog with is a simple one. It’s simple in content, but it explains my background a little. I was raised in a conservative protestant Christian household about thirty minutes south of Seattle. I am the youngest of five girls, and we all come from a woman who had modeled in the 60s and 70s. She raised her girls to value beauty and appearance almost as much as our faith in Jesus. As a result my four older sisters became beauties, sought after by all sorts of male kind.

When I began to mature my mother and my sisters treated me like a Barbie Doll to be dressed and trained how to behave. To them I was an ideal candidate due to my long blonde hair, tall figure and green eyes. I, however, found their constant scrutiny on my appearance overbearing and exhausting to keep up with. On one hand I tried to do as I was told: straighten my hair just right, make sure my eye makeup was even, wear tight clothes to show off my underdeveloped curves, but pretend I wasn’t uncomfortable. On the other hand I rebelled: I wore baggy clothes, no makeup, and dared to put on my glasses instead of contacts.
I was having an identity crisis of knowing if I should place my worth on physical appearance, or if I even cared. I found that the more I cared about what people thought I looked like, the more I became insecure with myself. However, when I tried not to care, it seemed to creep up in my mind anyway. This confusion and insecurity made me distant from the opposite sex and perhaps just distant in general.
One day at the age of 16, just stepping out of the shower and dressing in my most comfortable clothes, my parents asked me if I wanted to join them to go to Barns and Noble, knowing my love for books. Thoughts passed through my head warning me that I didn’t look suitable to go outdoors. Had my sisters had anything to do with it, they would have forced me to take a few hours in the bathroom to look remotely appropriate. Realizing that I felt perfectly comfortable as I was, I threw caution to the wind and left looking as bland as I possibly could.
My parents and I parted ways in the Barns and Noble parking lot while they went to a computer store and I to a bookstore. However, I was stopped before I made it inside. A boy around the age of 18 stopped me and asked if I could take part in a survey. I don’t remember what the survey was about. I probably wasn’t paying much attention due to the myriad of compliments this boy gave me.
“So, uh, how old are you?”
“Sixteen” I blushed.
“Wow! Only sixteen? I thought you would be eighteen or something.”


The more underhanded, bashful compliments he would give me, the more frazzled I became and wanted to run away from there. Lord only knows how red my face was then. After a short while, I somehow stumbled over my words in attempt to tell him that I had to go.
“Oh well, can I have a hug then before you leave?” A HUG??? For my friends and family who know me now understand I’m not a fan of physical affection, how much worse was I then?
Blushing even deeper I gave him a hug and retracted as quickly as possible.
“How about a kiss?” By this time I was trying to escape, and so without thinking I turned to kiss his cheek. However, I wasn’t quick enough before he turned his head and kissed me square on the mouth. It was short and simple mainly due to the fact that I turned as fast as I could, taking sanctuary in my favorite bookstore.
Now before I move on, I need to say that what this boy did was inappropriate. I didn’t know him and he could have gotten into a great deal of trouble for doing even a simple act of kissing me like that, being that it was unwanted. I, luckily for him, was an insecure, impressionable teenager who wouldn’t have even considered this as inappropriate. I was just stuck on the compliment that he gave me. How was it that I received so much attention from someone when I looked so plain? At that age I would have thought that being that I had no makeup or sexy clothes on that I would be undesirable.
There was a French saying that struck me then about if you believed that you were beautiful, you would actually become beautiful. It was then that I realized that attractiveness didn’t really come from makeup or clothes or whether you wore glasses or not. What mattered was if I was comfortable with myself, regardless on how I looked.
Confidence, as I learned then, and have to keep on learning is a difficult thing to cultivate in yourself. But the more you have it, the more people will be drawn to you. This moment was really important for me to realize this for myself, although I will admit, I still have to relearn it all the time.