Lake Washington Sketches

I am in Seattle for the weekend to attend the Penny Arcade Expo on Monday. I’m staying in a nice air b&b in the suburbs, a swanky renovated basement where the owner is right above us and keeping their distance. Can’t see the Space Needle from our house, but its like two blocks from Lake Washington. Its nice and sunny up here, and not all smokey and on fire, like Oregon is right now. 

Alex and I went on a walk to Matthew’s Beach to check out the lake. I did some people doodles, yay! And also took a bunch of pictures. Then we took a loooooong walk to QFC for toilet paper and almond milk because there wasn’t a bus to take! Exercise!! The rest of today is dedicated to WiiU and beer, but tomorrow we will be wandering the streets of downtown Seattle all day. Woot.


East Lake Sketches

I went camping last week at East Lake, Oregon for a few days, and drew a couple of things, including my various family members. Being able to relax and not worry about DUMB ADULT THINGS was great, and I was actually able to do some writing as well as drawing, and I read almost the entirety of the book The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls. It’s great to be able to get some reading done! A good writer also has to be a good reader! And Jeannette has kinda motivated me to want to be more gung-ho about my living situation, but at the same time she’s made me feel like a crappy whiny baby for letting depression dominate my whole life, instead of being a kickass person who can actually fix things for themselves. Ack. 

As soon as I was back home, the motivation to create disappeared almost instantaneously, and I reverted back to my videogame escapism. Proof that this apartment is a bubble of soul sucking negativity, and its not just me. Only now am I motivated enough to even update my blog by just posting pictures. But yay, I’ll take what I can get. 

A Memory

Escaped the blinding lights,
the rooms with teachers presiding
the clinical white halls of misery
Heard a secret,
“I know where we can go,
I have a key.”
Giggling with bravado and nerves,
we followed him.
Crystal was my shadow,
just going along with
this cool upperclassman.
My lust
for adventure
drowned her fear
of trouble. She was eager
to taste some life.

The empty auditorium
is like a graveyard in the dark.
Zeek knew which switch to pull,
a single light bulb
a firefly in a pressure chamber
to keep us hidden,
it lit up the cavern,
illuminating dimly
lines of chairs like a shark’s maw
but teeth like a horse.
A dark auditorium like a graveyard
those curved shapes
lined endless in the darkness.
Crystal stayed by the door,
expecting ravenous teachers
who hid in the curtains
A line at my feet like a tongue silent
makes a barrier from the graves.
Pieces of cardboard standing
like random brick walls
furniture stuck in shadows edge
A bed,
three steps to nowhere,
a door made of paint,
shadowed drapes like webs
curtains like a gaping mouth
dead cardboard trees, silent structures
amongst a dark graveyard.
A child, I am mesmerized
the transformation of a room
I thought I knew.
Longed for my saxophone
to test its wails
its echos, through empty graves
with no ears to hear it.

He showed us the stairs,
ones I eagerly climbed,
forcing giddy Crystal along,
where people like him
controlled the lights which beamed
like angels auras
around us actors and soloists.
The mystery
of how we were made into gods
was ruined,
but now it was magic,
still fascinating.
From above
the graves were even more like teeth
hungry, waiting,
anticipating a fresh meal
caged by narrow iron walkways.
Crystal clutched the railing
white knuckles
but laughed.
I wanted to sight wraiths
waltzing below, but
us three teens
were the only souls
above empty graves.
Free and flying
away from teachers,
a new secret from parents.

Above the graves,
we were free for a moment.

Lifey Bits #5

Previous bits this a way

The woman sitting directly behind me on the train is speaking fast on the phone in another language. Very loudly, right into my ear, making it easy for me to eavesdrop and analyze her syllables and see if I can understand what she’s talking about. I think it might be French, but I am unsure. The language sounds like bubbles blipping out from her mouth, popping into the air. She laughs occasionally, obviously a laugh, but a laugh in her language.

Eventually she pauses and says “Allo?…Allo?” And she stops. A few minutes later the tinkle of a cellphone chimes and she says “Allo?” again. She laughs and continues her fast bubbly language. I hear her say the name ‘David’ but she says it like ‘Da-veed’.

I wish I could speak every language.

Sitting on the lower part of the train, where the seats sit in a line with their backs against the windows, I get to watch as a team of three police officers suddenly board the MAX. With my headphones in, the swiveled glancing of my train-mates leads my eyes to them. The one apparently leading the group has the word SHERIFF stitched largely on his back in gold letters. Why is the sheriff checking out the train and not Trimet security?

He pauses as he first enters the train and looks around slowly at everyone, looking at each person’s face closely. He has a super douchy grin on his face. The type of smug, proud-and-pleased-with-himself smile of the always-looking-down-on. He is enjoying all of the eyes looking back at him, or making an obvious attempt to not look at him. The world stirs at his presence, and he is aware of it. He basks in it like a solar panel; he feeds on the curious and vehement vibes radiating from the people before him. I think he is trying to look kind with his smile, that’s why he shows it so brightly, but he just looks like a proud jock in high school who beat up the nerd and got away with it.

He walks his way through the center of the train, still looking at peoples faces as he goes. Looking back and forth from wall to wall. Reminds me of scenes in old Westerns where the sheriff walks into a saloon and eyeballs everyone. He’s chewing gum obnoxiously. That seems a little unprofessional to me. I have a thought; maybe this is just a trio of thugs who stole those uniforms? When he gets to me and looks at my face, he sees my stare and crinkles a larger smile at me, then moves on. The other two following him have stern looks on their faces but are otherwise just doing their job, just looking. When they pass through the entire train, they leave, and take with them the heavy tension they created.

I try not to be a cop hater, but this guy seemed like a real douchebag.

Went to the fancy oil and vinegar store in the mall with Onyx. Can’t remember its name, sells cooking oil, and seasoning, and fancy-pants stuff to dip bread in. Holy shit, Onyx though.
Onyx: Also Aspergers. Way worse than I am, but manages to live life relatively normally. Has a job and everything! He gives shitty advice about it, but it’s funny. Doesn’t have any sense of himself and people around him except the people he cares about. Literally gives no shits. Laughs loudly. Curses loudly, and around children and old people. Talks about Disney Princesses unabashedly. Shared how he “banged” Sera, his Dragon Age romance, to an audience of quiet readers in Barnes & Noble. Asked advice about a My Little Pony PNP, as if I would know anything about that. It’s hilarious. I love it!
Embarrassing, being with Onyx, but it’s liberating. All I can do is giggle and follow meekly, smile apologetically at people who look at us weird. Tempted to shush him, but I don’t want to interrupt his great time. Shushing is a dick move. Don’t shush who people are meant to be! Don’t want to end this amazing gift of his. It helps me feel better about myself. I care too much about what people think. If he can be a total weirdo and not bat an eye, I should be able to too.
We pass vinegar store, he just walks straight in, without even telling me he’s going in there. Tells me to try the chocolate vinegar. The store is tiny, we are two of five “costumers”. The employees ask “you guys need any help?” Onyx just says, “Nah!” and goes on getting samples. I feel so self-conscious!! Who can resist dipping soft croutons in flavored oil?! Free samples, but how much can you get before taking advantage?! Obligated to buy something now, but I’m broke! The employee chick continues to inquiry us on what we are looking for…Onyx just says “Just showing her the chocolate because its AWESOME.”
Geeeeez, why couldn’t I have been born with his type of brain!

I went to GameStop strictly for the Lycanroc code. I asked the dude behind the counter, “can I have the Pokemon?” I like to say it like a silly little girl for some reason, using my feminine charm, or something. I do know which Pokemon I am getting, but being cute over Pokemon is cute.
He says, “Psh, no.” And looks me dead in the eye, but with a smirk.
Know its a joke, but layer of flirting? I panic! Brain ceases to function! I just stutter like an idiot, “Wha—whaa—why?”
He laughs and says just kidding, but gives a sidelong look as hes getting the little code card.
Social moment ruined. It keeps replaying in my head.
It’s only a block away…maybe if I show up more…
they say ditziness is cute anyway…

Next bit

Lifey Tidbits #3

Previous bunch of tidbits here.

I changed the name of these posts because “Life Observations” is BORING and also, not all my observations were observations…more like…shenanigans…

Got kicked off the train at Gateway due to accident at 82nd “involving train and person”, according to I contemplated on that, but had 30mins until class and needed to be downtown STAT! No time to contemplate the profoundness of life and death! Checked out the buses at Gateway, peering meekly at their destinations, but couldn’t tell which ones went through downtown. Then I saw a bus with “via City Center” on its face. Bus 19, have never taken it before. Dubious on what the “via” meant, but I assumed the obvious. Asked bus driver, just in case, “This goes through downtown, right?” He said “Yup yup,” while motioning me and others to hurry up and get on bus, not even checking our fare. I thought he might have just been saying “yup” to whatever I said to get me to move along, so I was still suspicious of the bus destination. I took a seat and kept vigilant for any bad turns by bus, hoping it didn’t squiggle its way downtown. Finally I saw the familiar tall buildings of downtown in the distance. Whew! Faith in humanity in good standing!…kinda. Was 5 minutes late for class. Couldn’t go pee beforehand so did potty dance in seat for 20 minutes while Prof. talked.

Pouring rain. Met with drawing classmates and Prof. in Art Building for “field trip” to art galleries. Is a field trip in college a field trip? Why is it called a “field” trip anyway? Are we going “out on the field” doing research? After standing awkwardly with classmates whom seemed overly attached to each other and not, for some reason, at all with me, the Prof. showed up.
Prof., “Why didn’t you guys bring your umbrellas?!”
Dude, “We’re Portlanders!”
Portland humor.
Older lady, fellow classmate, laughs and brandishes her umbrella like a sword, almost hitting me in the face.
Other Girl looks down at her umbrella sheepishly, ashamed at herself for being a bad Portlander.
I look down at the half-slippers I put on, too lazy to tie shoes this morning. They slip on like a slipper, but have the soles of a regular shoe…for taking out the garbage and checking your mail. I must be a true Portlander now, wearing slippers in the rain, and for that matter, even out of the house. I don’t even own an umbrella.
When we leave the building together, Other Girl with umbrella does the thrust-up-in-the-air method of opening an umbrella, and almost hits me in face.
Geez people.
Tempted to wear sign on my forehead saying “I EXIST.”

Upon passing by the common area of 9th floor Broadway, I see that a girl has made the area into her own personal painting studio. She has a tarp laid out on floor and newspaper on the table. Underneath the newspaper are her bottles of paint, splayed out paintbrushes, and Tupperware of water. The chairs are against the wall except for the cushioned ones that are bolted down. She has a tall easel set up on the tarp and stands before it, brushing blue paint on an already green and brown canvas that is as tall as a child. She is also singing to herself, in that soft high pitched voice way, like the girls in high school choir outside of class, that weird uniform way that is…not pleasing to the ears. As I walk by she hesitates in her singing and glances at me, but immediately starts up again and goes on painting. Perhaps she’d been hoping I was a cute boy who would be impressed by her free spirited artistness doing it all out-in-public-like.

Went into bathroom to prepare for a shower. Noticed a kitten sleeping on top of the towels in the cupboard. Too cute to disturb, found other towel. A moment after getting in the shower, a tiny kitten head pokes out from behind curtains, eyes wide and wondering. Her eyes are almost as big as her head. She jumps on the far edge of tub, watching where water hits the bottom of tub. So cute. I think, “what harm is there?” She soon slunk herself between the curtains toward the head of the shower, and watched the water more closely from the transparent inner curtain. I peeked at her from around the curtain, she looked up at me with her huge kitten eyes and said “meow”, sounding concerned. She is curious but also frightened. Eventually I made a grab for the soap, which she was huddled next to. This made her flip out and, literally, flip out of the shower. I said “aw, don’t go!” and heard a tiny “mew” in response. After awhile, I looked out of shower to check on her, worried she might be hiding or cowering near door. Instead, she was sitting and lethargically smacking a hairband on the bathroom rug. But she almost instantly noticed me watching and said “meow!” again, loudly, and bounced over, as if asking me a question. “In a minute!” I said, and finished my shower.

Kitten now has new experience in little kitten belt.

Rain rain rain.
Wind wind wind.
Wind blows rain
like powdered snow.
It’s only cold
because of the wind
on my wet hands and face.
Have to clutch my hood
so it won’t fly off.
At least,
I get to wear my ducky boots,
and matching yellow raincoat.
distracts from piercing wind
and rain splashed glasses.
Dance at train stop
Mind over matter
That’s all that matters.
Cold is only cold if you think “its cold.”

Lady’s umbrella flies up backwards.
She attempts a fix, but
it only folds limply down its stem.
Umbrella’s are a useless invention
when wind is involved.

Accidentally wrote a poem.


There’s a blue splatter of paint on the train wall directly in front of me. It’s shiny. Wet? How did this happen? Only in Portland does someone manage to splosh their blue paint on the inner wall of a city train. At least, I think it’s paint…it could be some other crazy chemical substance, or alien blood. Or alien loogie. Eeeeeh, it’s like, a foot way from my face, don’t think that shit.

Next bunch of tidbits

Lifey Tidbits #2

First bunch of tidbits here.


In the classroom where Poetry class is held, I arrive early. There are only four people in the room, including myself. I head to my normal seat, affixed by my Asperger’s need to sit in the exact same seat every day, but I see that the guy I sit next to is using my chair as an ottoman. I say “may I sit?” and notion at the chair. He removes his feet, but flings in hand in the air and rolls his eyes in the way that says “What you said is perfectly ridiculous.” Without my control, I snap at him, “Fine. I won’t then.” and sit in the next chair over. He said “It’s not my chair…!” in exasperation. I don’t say anything further, and go about arranging my things on the desk like normal, perfectly aware of the two other people in the room probably wondering what the heck just happened. Not sure why I snapped so suddenly. It’s not like me. Too much pet peeve. Makes me want to sock the person. Especially if they are female. It might also be because of the grieving process. I don’t know, I feel stupid but it felt good to stick up for myself even if it was over something so incredibly dumb.


There is a girl in Poetry class who shaves off and redraws on her eyebrows. I have never understood this fad, but this girl draws her eyebrows on in an angry angle every day that I see her. She looks like she is constantly disgruntled and perplexed about everything around her. Her eyebrows have her in a constant state of “Da fuck she just say?” She has perpetual bitch face. Why would she do this? Does she even realize she has constant bitch face? Would she appreciate being informed on it? Perhaps she thinks she is making herself beautiful and wonders why people don’t ever want to approach her…….


Dude I snapped at in poetry class still sits next to me. Like nothing ever happened. But now there is a weird tension in the air. Not aggressive or awkward…more like…competitiveness. It’s hard to articulate. It is like we are both waiting on each other’s next move, to counter strike or retaliate, or something like that. Today I doodled Mass Effect themed drawings into my notebook. Later I noticed he drew a picture of a thumb and finger making a cave holding a flag with a woman in rags and holding a spear standing within. He drew it with Micron pen. I doodled with my regular writing pen. It was obvious his drawing was a reaction to my doodling. All I can think is “what the heck?”


On walk home from train station, I saw a woman standing at the bus stop. She wore a pink baggy t-shirt and capri-sweats and no shoes. It’s February. Winter. Cold. She looked like she just got out of bed, literally, from sleeping to being at the bus stop in one move. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest in the same way Mom does it when she is cold, in a slightly hunched kind of way. This is my neighborhood.


Today, Poetry Rival was very antsy and cursing very outwardly about whatever was happening on his laptop. He tapped his keyboard violently. Tempted to be sassy and remind him that keyboard buttons are breakable. I ignored him though, but felt almost scared for my life. After his episode, and about 5 minutes later, I notice he is watching a YouTube video about Mass Effect…I was also wearing my Mass Effect hoodie. Is this intentional? It is like he is trying to show me things about his personality without actually talking to me. Am I just being paranoid? Maybe he has a crush on me now. First girl ever to counter his impoliteness and now he is in love. Oldest tale in the manga. I’m probably just being silly though.

More tidbits this way –>

Lifey Tidbits #1

Everywhere I go, I bring this green book with blank pages along with me and lately I have been writing in it entirely random encounters and observations I experience when going about my day. Some of them are kind of interesting, and since my writing lately has really taken off in a practice kind of way, I think it would be interesting to share them, to encourage me to do it more.


A bearded old man wearing huge blue sunglasses plays an acoustic guitar in the auditorium park blocks. It’s raining. He wears a short-sleeved shirt. He dances in circles as he plays fast simple chords in a chaotic melody. Perhaps that’s why he is managing to stay warm in the rain. Or perhaps he simply enjoys the feel of the rain hitting him as he spins around. He is just an old man doin’ what he loves, and being happy about it: playing the guitar while spinning in circles. Three children in different colored jackets and different ethnicities dance near him, using their different colored (closed) umbrellas like a Broadway show. The scene makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.


A young man gets on the number 10 bus on my way to school, at the Reed stop. He has very stylish, wavy black hair and a torn denim jacket and black torn skinny jeans with a chain  connected from the wallet in his pocket to a belt loop. I can’t hear it, but he talks very sincerely to the bus driver and then turns around sullenly and gets off the bus. As he walks up the street, he flips his middle finger up backwards without looking back. Seeing the poor ragamuffin makes me want to throw $3 out the window for him. The bus driver is the same one who drives me to school every time I leave at 10:30. Everyday he barely looks at me as I get on the bus, barely acknowledging that his passengers are people, zonking out as he shoves his bus along. Although, if the ragamuffin wanted fair treatment, he might not want to dress in a street-punk-probably-steals-lunch-money-from-first-graders kind of way. Ah, moral dilemmas…


As I walk to Japanese class, I notice a girl with frizzy auburn hair stop and bend down in the middle of the street. When she comes back up, I see she is holding a kneaded eraser. She kneads it in her hand for a few seconds, still standing in the middle of the road, then smiles and stuffs the thing in her pocket as she continues on her way….Portland…


Zoned out and watching life from my seat on the train, I notice a boy with an art portfolio that looks like mine hurry his way up to the parking lot of the Division platform. He reaches the long set of stairs from the platform to the parking lot. The stairs are divided in two by a railing. As the boy takes a few steps up the stairs, he suddenly stops and stares at the woman ahead of him. She is fat and staring down at her mobile device, taking each step as slowly as possible. The boy analyzes the situation, then turns back, bolts quickly down, and runs up the other side of the stairs, taking two at a time. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. I am a bad person sometimes…


In poetry class. I notice, across the classroom, a fresh-out-of-high-school African-American girl sitting among a group of three old, white hair and wrinkles, Caucasian men. I assume they are discussing the poetry readings. The old men nodding and responding in agreement with what the girl says, and her vice versa. The scene is particularly nice. It shouldn’t be, but it is. Perhaps I have subconscious beliefs that all white old men are racist and all young people hate listening/talking to old people?

Next bunch of tidbits here.