Last night was the first time I've ever participated in Critical Mass, a periodic (monthly in most places) event which takes place in many major cities around the world to celebrate bicycling. I had known about Critical Mass, but since I've had my bike, I hadn't thought about attending. Anyway, I didn't realize it took place every last Friday of the month in Seattle. But it does. Oh, does it ever.
After a day of doing absolutely nothing, I got up off my ass and rode down to Westlake Center, our meeting place, around 6. Met up with Ricky, the guy who had come in to Pagliacci (where else?) the night before and told me about it. After a good 10-15 min of just hanging out, talking, whatever, some of the group starting making the rounds, trying to rile everyone up, and the rest of us eventually all mounted our bicycles and started riding. With no actual leader and no set plan other than our meeting time/place, I'm told that this is how it starts every month.
So we set off, and I found myself at the front of the group with a girl named Jennifer. We'd come to an intersection, and she turned and asked "Should we go left, right, or straight?" I said "I have no idea; this is the first time I've ever done this." "Me too!" So we went straight and begun our ride through Pike Place Market. Such spontaneous non-parade-routing is what generally makes up a Critical Mass ride. There's a general plan to end up at a park somewhere, but everything else is a surprise to all involved, which is half the fun, really.
The other half of the fun, of course, is taking over the streets of Seattle with a horde of rowdy 20-somethings, and confusing tourists and residents alike.
One might say it's a stick-it-to-the-motorized-vehicle-driving-man sort of move, and a few members of the group definitely feel that way. But really, the majority of us just want to have fun with it. Maybe cause a little raucous in the streets, hold up traffic a little bit, but that's all.
At some point during our tour of Pike Place, a few people started suggesting parks to head toward. Someone mentioned Alki, we all kind of looked up at the threatening clouds in the sky, and agreed. A swim at the beach seemed in order for such a typical Seattle day, and thus, it was decided. TO ALKI!
We sped down to the stadiums, where Mariners fans and parking lot attendants gawked and whooped at us. The industrial district was ahead, and we might have turned toward the bike trail that leads to West Seattle. But no. Why go the easy (not to mention boring and predictable) route, when we could embark on a new adventure instead?
That's right. We took over the West Seattle Bridge.
It was seriously the most epic thing I've done since being back from Europe (other than cutting all my hair off, of course). We rode the fucking freeway. I guess the cops were worried we would get a little too out-of-hand (or you might say they were looking out for our safety), so they escorted us most of the way, keeping traffic on the far left and "allowing" us (not that we wouldn't do it anyway) free passage.
At the top of the hump of the bridge (and it was a bitch of a hump, I assure you), a few people stopped to breathe for a few minutes, and admire the view.
And, yes, I suppose my hand was shaking a bit. I'll also add that all of these pictures were taken on my phone, and most of them while I was riding my bike, trying to balance, not hit other riders, and get a decent shot. So I will not apologize for their crappy quality. I won't.
So off we were, to Alki Beach, where much paper bag beer-drinking and free Food Not Bombs PB-and-Jambulance sandwich-eating would ensue.
Annnnd the Bike Lift. An epic end to an epic ride. We mustn't forget the Bike Lift.
After the bike lift, though, the sort-of-party at Alki was almost anti-climactic. A good number of people left to find drinking holes, and some left to go home. The rest of us just hung out, resting and chatting with friends and new acquaintances. As far as I saw, there was no skinny dipping. Damn.
This man was my hero of the evening. He roller bladed ALL THE WAY FROM DOWNTOWN. I was talking to him at one point, telling him how awesome he was for skating, and he told me that he'd thought other skaters/bladers/boarders would be in attendance. But alas, it was just him.
I think it makes for a better story, honestly. I mean, this man ROLLER BLADED across the freakin' WEST SEATTLE BRIDGE! He was probably the first (and only, so far) pedestrian EVER to cross the bridge, for the sole purpose of transportation (and not as a result of a broken down car or being part of a road work crew). I wish I'd gotten his name.
So, as a reward for our 8.6 mile (according to Google Maps) bike ride, we got to make an 8.6 mile ride back.
...Oh, and I guess the twilight view of the Seattle skyline was pretty nice.
Alright, it was pretty gorgeous, actually. But that doesn't change the fact that our stomachs were whining about our excessive calorie-burning and our asses were protesting their prolonged positions on our bike seats.
Which is why, once our little group of Capitol Hill-dwellers got back, we went straight for some delicious Rancho Bravo burritos and a long sit-down in their chairs, which, thankfully, had backs to lean against.
It was a fabulous way to spend my Friday night; I haven't had this much fun with a bunch of strangers (some of which are now friends) since the incredible Spontaneous Pillow Fight of '08 in Ballard.
I realize that it's only half an hour till it isn't morning anymore, but in my defense, I've been up since 8:45. Why? No particular reason. I don't work until later tonight, and I don't have anyone to see or anywhere to be before then. I just like to get an earlier start to my day. It's nice to have a few hours to lazily sip some coffee, munch on some breakfast, and update my blog-reading or news-watching. When I wake up later, after the sun's been up almost half a day, I feel like I've missed out on something. Even if there wasn't anything other than just bird-chirping and sunshine in my East-facing windows to sleep through. I guess it's just the fact that I can't sit around for 2 hours before I shower and still hope to get something done before work. No zipping downtown to browse the pretty things at Nordstrom that I can only hope to be able to afford in the future. No getting laundry done before I have to leave, so as to save myself from staying up extra late after I get home and want to go to bed. No relaxing grocery store browsing.
When I start back at school (whether it be this coming Winter quarter at UW, or some later time at some other university), I hope I'll be able to remember how much better it is to be waking up early and Doing Things, rather than sleeping in and doing absolutely nothing with myself. There's been far too much of the latter in the last year or so of my life, and I'm over it. I'm done with it. It's over. I hope.
1. I moved into a studio on First Hill at the beginning of July. 2. I cut all of my hair off on the 15th. 3. I applied to UW for re-admission two days ago.
These are all big-freakin'-deals for me.
First of all, I'm living by myself for the first time, ever. Laurel is in Spokane for the time being, and while it is nice to be the only occupant of my home, I do miss having her around to share our one-of-a-kind sense of humor and appreciation for odd details in each other's lives.
As for my hair, I knew the time would come, eventually, to shave my head and start anew. As I've told so many wide-eyed people over the last week, I have been planning it for a while. I just didn't know when I would actually do it. Turns out, it would be on a ho-hum sort of Saturday in mid-August, right after a pathetic emotional meltdown the day before. Which brings me to the last thing.
Ever since I dropped out of my classes right before the Winter '09 quarter began, I've felt like I'm in a bit of a limbo. I'm working, yes, but at a lowly pizzeria, which doesn't utilize or praise my talents and skills, other than by the fact that they haven't fired me over the last year for being a complete idiot (which, I'm sorry to say, has happened a few times in the time I've spent there). I thought I wanted to pursue music, but since I still don't have a keyboard or lyrics for potential songs, I'm feeling more and more like I'm lying to myself. I don't think that's really what I would excell at, and in any case, it's not guaranteed that I will succeed in any sense of the word. So, on something that was much more of a surprising whim than that which lead me to cut my hair off on the 15th, I reapplied for admission to UW last Saturday. It all sort of came together and the stubborn aspiring-musician part of me finally let up on the bullshit and admitted that i really need to go back to school. And while I'm still not entirely sure what I might end up doing, I need to finish what I started at UW so I can move on to bigger, better places in my life (figuratively, and hopefully, geographically). Since my GPA was so low when I left, I don't even know if they'll take me back. But I think I have a better chance there than I do anywhere else.
So we'll see what happens, I suppose. I've been humoring thoughts about becoming some in-the-know editor of a fashion magazine, but that fantasy might never amount to be more than just that.
After spending a considerable amount of time attempting to pursue a university degree in various unproductive subjects and a good stint in the pizza industry, I've realized that what I REALLY want to do is become a chef.
I enrolled at the Seattle Culinary Academy at SCCC in Fall 2011. Now that I'm more than a quarter into the program, I've got the rhythm down, and will be reporting here about my experiences. There will undoubtedly be some stories regarding my job at a local neighborhood Italian restaurant, as well.
Taste Fixation is my food-related blog, and My Breality is for everything else (but mostly photos of the sky being pretty).