The Accidental Olympian

SEATTLE HATES ME

I am going to try really hard to make this as snappy as possible 1. because if I talk about this for too long my blood pressure will rise to the astronomical proportions they were last night as I was living this nightmare, and 2. I have a date with some fabulous gay men.

Last night Adam and I had tickets to see Aziz Ansari, the HILARIOUS comedian and actor who plays Tom in Parks and Recreation. Which, if you don't already watch Parks and Rec, you need to go and rent the fist two (3?) seasons and watch them all today. You'll thank me when you're caught up. And if nothing else, watch some of his YouTube videos, they're worth your 15 minutes. 

So, we were excited. I mean what a lovely Friday night treat finally getting to use the tickets Adam got me for my birthday! Yeah for dates!

But you see, Adam and I have a history with Seattle and it goes like this. We buy a ticket to see something fun in Seattle, usually tickets to a play, or a concert or something where there is a SET time we need to be there, and we leave like 900 hours before hand, and Seattle fucks with us and low and behold each and every time we end up RUNNING LIKE IDIOTS THROUGH THE STREETS OF SEATTLE TO MAKE IT TO OUR SEATS.

And people I hate being late. This isn't something I do, like ever. And yet Seattle hates me and wants me to get road rage, and speed, and run through Seattle like a moron.

Yesterday we left the house at 4:30pm for a 7:30pm show. We needed to travel 60 miles, or this distance.

As it always goes, the minute we entered the freeway we came upon completely stopped traffic. This drive is known for having traffic in the middle when you go through the city of Tacoma, but right outside my front door? NOT OK.

Because I am brilliant I decided we should take side streets.

I mean, we have iPhones with maps, we can do anything!

So we decided to take this route,

I'm not going to lie to you, I felt like the smuggest bitch on this planet as we pulled out of the parking lot traffic jam. That is until we entered ANOTHER parking lot traffic jam.

My adorable little plan to side step the traffic made sure that something that should have taken 30 minutes, took nearly TWO HOURS. 

I'm a little ashamed to admit that there might have been a moment on a stopped, traffic ingested, COUNTRY ROAD where I started screaming at the truck in front of me, and maybe even slammed my hands into the steering wheel repeatedly, and then Adam yelled back at me that if I didn't cut that shit out he was getting out of the car RIGHT NOW and walking home, and then I might have actually even started tearing up, just a little bit.

Great shortcut right?

By the time we reentered the main freeway it was 6:45. We had 30 miles to cover, we still had to enter downtown Seattle, find parking, get to the theater and be seated before 7:30.

I'm not proud of the fact, ok that's total bull shit, I am totally proud and quite amazed by my little 2001 Ford Focus and my stealthy Jeff Gordon skills that enabled us to cover 30 miles, something that it had been clogged with (which it usually is) traffic that was supposed to make us miss our show, MISS MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT, in about 25 minutes.

People, I broke the law by driving very fast*.

And Adam nearly shit his pants and spent a lot of time with his eyes closed praying.

And my knuckles were blue when we got to the garage.

And when we sat down in the theater we were actually panting.

And I hope to never have to do that ever again.

Except that I am going BACK to Seattle in like two hours because this weekend is Pride Weekend in Seattle and I am going to run about and celebrate some of my fabulous friends and attempt to be equally fabulous and dear god Seattle please just don't make me have to get all crazy road ragey again because that was shitty shitty shitty times.

I'm still amazed we made it.

Your worst traffic story, ever. GO. I need to feel like there are other people that sometimes have to resort to road rage to make it through traffic hell so I feel less alone and stabby. Please tell me I'm not the only one who has a city that hates me.

*for clarification I was usually with the flow of traffic. If by 'flow of traffic' you mean driving fast with the three other people on i5 that are always driving fast also. Safety in numbers? 

Ashley, the Accidental Olympian

ROMP BY THE RIVER

Spring has finally arrived in the Northwest. This means we now suffer from skitzophrenic weather patterns, SUN, rain, SUN, rain, SUN, SUN, SUN (cue the hopeful feelings), then rain, rain, rain (cue the depression as you start to believe the sun will never return and you actually somehow slipped backwards into winter).

With that being said, when the sun decides to arrive, it is in everyone's best interest to head outdoors.

After raining all morning suddenly the skies opened and I realized it was time to capitalize on our fortunes lest we be blessed with rain all next week. So I gathered my leash and my pooch, and headed to the Deschutes river, also known as my next door neighbor.

I wont lie to you and say that sometimes I don't ache all the way down to my toes for Seattle. That I don't long for the days when I could jump on a buss and 15 minutes later be in the heart of downtown Seattle. But something I always felt was lacking from Seattle was this.

Sure, there were lakes, and parks, and wilderness 'areas' in Seattle. But on a day like today, you bet you'd run into 70 other people. Here, I walked for 15 minutes, and suddenly I was playing in my own private wilderness.

I guess it makes up for the lacking of hip happy hour options.

I love how Oly's face is a little deformed by the slowness of my iPhone's camera. Even with the deformity there is no denying that this is one happy pooch.



Yes, that is my dog trying to eat the plants growing on the bottom of the river. She's special like that.

 

I tried to capture this moment a million times. Having Oly run in front of me, then crouch down with my phone at the ready and call her back. In the end this shot made the cut because not only does Oly look happier than I've seen her all day running loose in a field as dogs always long to do, but the rays of sunlight in the top corner make the shot even more euphoric.

But I could just be sun drunk at this point.

It's hard in the Northwest not to get excited about a warm spring day. You'll have to excuse me. I'm sure if it rains tomorrow I'll be back to my gloomy self.
 

Ashley, the Accidental Olympian

FOILED PLANS

The greatest thing about spending time with a close friend you haven't seen in a while is that even when all your previous plans of fabulousness, nonsense, and mindless fraternization fall through, you can still manage to have an amazing night.

 

My 'perfect outfit' never made it out of the bag. The painfully beautiful shoes never got a chance to mangle my toes, and I never even put a dab of makeup on. My five pennies weren't spent on tequila shots, but on Doritos, and two bottles of Cook's Champagne (I am pretty sure I just heard my friend who lives in France sigh dramatically after reading the words Cook's and Champagne in the same sentence). But what can I say, we're classy bitches.

Sitting there in my borrowed zebra print Snuggie, in front of the fire, watching a horrible, but also delightfully enjoyable chick flick I couldn't have been more content. Now that our friendship exists with a West Coast - East Coast divide, we let the Seattle nightlife rage below us and instead used the time we had together to just be.

In the nearly 9 months I've lived in Olympia I've met a lot of amazing people, and even been lucky enough to begin to build on some truly genuine friendships. But the newness of some of these friendships still leaves me with social anxiety, and at times I feel as if I am speed dating, without the benefits of sexual tension to keep them interested.

Yet as I sat there Saturday night in the world worst ensemble, doing basically nothing and having an amazing time, I remembered how nice it is to be apart of a seasoned friendship. These 'favorite pair of jeans' types of friendships have become priceless, place markers from various chapters of my life, and the life preservers that enable me to feel as if life is indeed manageable.

Who knew a night in with junk food and bad sparking wine could help put life just a little more into perspective?

DO YOU HAVE A COCKTAIL? IT MIGHT BE A WHILE

I'm not sure what an epiphany feels like, but I assume what I felt on Saturday morning was just that, an epiphany of epic proportions.

Saturday morning I attended the University of Washington's Master of Library and Information Sciences information session. My mind has wandered since I lost my job last December, floating back and forth between hopeful dreams of returning to academia and a fear of rejection, change, uncertainty, and complacency. Unknown to my dedicated readers, or even most of my family and friends, I have already missed two of the earlier information sessions. Although the dates and times have been clearly marked on my calendar, as each one approached I managed to find a way out of attending.

"I'll go to the next one," I'd tell myself. "It was my schedule," I'd reason, when really it was only fear holding me back. This time, I forced myself.

 

For nearly 5 years I attended the University of Washington and yet I was nowhere prepared for the overpowering feelings of longing and nostalgia that hit me the moment I emerged from the underground parking garage. As the cold wind brushed my cheeks all I could think was, "I'm home." 

 

Throughout the morning, professors, students and advisors told us everything we'd ever want to know about getting an MLIS at UW. As I sat in those chairs with my coffee, my pen and my paper I felt the most overwhelming desire to never leave. I wanted to live in these chairs forever, breathe the smell of a new classroom eternally, fall asleep to the sounds of the professors soft voice, the chiming of the classroom bells, and the shuffle of students feet.

The program opened my eyes and reminded me that there are things I have yet to accomplish, talents I have yet to tap into, skills I have yet to master. The doubts that had begun to creep into my mind, thoughts that I might forever simply have 'a job' instead of a 'career', feelings of despair, unworthiness, and the overwhelming intuition that I might always be the less qualified candidate began ever so slowly to dissipate as I sat and listened.

For the first time in a very long time I felt inspired. Inspired that I might regain control of the trajectory of my life. That I might once again surround myself with the world of academia, that I might find a path, a mission, a purpose that I could be proud of. More than anything, I left that information session convinced once again that I had a future. 

I had contemplated attending grad school via an online program. I figured it would be the easiest way to work full time and also earn my degree. Yet as I sat in those chairs, surrounded by other eager and determined minds I knew I would never be satisfied slaving away, trapped behind my computer screen. I longed to walk through a campus, study in libraries, have long drawn out conversations with professors in dingy offices, I ached to sip coffee on the steps of a historical marker, work on group projects, and get to know my fellow students. I loved every single thing about going to college, and to deprive myself the happiness that comes from being a full time college student would be to only continue to take things from myself I know bring me peace. I would be knowingly depriving myself of joy.

With the session complete I wandered aimlessly throughout campus. The cool fall air had transformed the university grounds into the wonderland I first fell in love with at 17. Without realizing it I found myself standing before Suzzallo Library. 

As I stepped inside I had to stop to catch my breath. All the memories of my first visit nearly 8 years ago began to flood back. The first time I visited this library it cemented my decision to apply to the University of Washington. This school had called to me, the city seemed to have been made just for me, and this particular library seemed to have been crafted from the depths of my imagination.

Eventually I stumbled out of the building aching with memories, tears beginning to well in my eyes. As I drove away from UW I could no longer contain the emotions that had been struggling to escape since I'd stepped foot on campus that morning. I sobbed. Deep guttural lonely sobs. I cried for Seattle, a city I had never wanted to leave, a city I longed for, a place I felt was crafted just for me. I cried for the loss of my career, for my careening self confidence and the confusion that seemed to ever cloud my judgment. I cried with joy in realizing that I could fix this, that I could seek out something better for myself, that I could reclaim my career path, that one day I might again find myself a student with dreams so big I can hardly contain them. I cried and cried and cried because first I know I must wait.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

 

After everything, the inspiration, the love, the longing, I have no immediate plans. As dull as it may seem, nothing in my life will change any time soon. The economy is still in shambles, there are still far too many unemployed to compete with, and there is no program here in Olympia that would give me the sort of degree or experience that I crave.

But with all that, there are things I CAN do. I can begin to study for my GRE, I can work on collecting my letters of recommendation before people's memories of me become too fuzzy, volunteer at the local library, and most of all, I can fill myself with hope. Hope that it will get better, that I still have a bright future, and hope that eventually I will feel as if I am again marching forward towards a dream.

Until then, I wait. And hope. And mostly, dream.

 

 

 

ROLLER DERBY

About a year ago, two of my best friends boarded planes and headed across the sea to begin their European adventures sans yours truly. I waved good-bye, scratched my head, and wondered what the fuck I was supposed to do now that my friends were both gone. I don't remember exactly when the idea of roller derby came across my mind as a possible way to make new friends and let out some aggression, but I just remember spending hours online researching teams in Seattle, looking at the gear I would need, and watching videos of bouts on YouTube thinking, I bet I would be good at that...

But of course as I browsed the videos and websites there was this little voice in the back of my head that kept saying, Stop pretending, you can't do that. I believed that little voice, and in the end I let the fear of being rejected, or sucking, or not being tough enough keep me from stepping out from behind my computer screen. 

Then of course I lost my job, moved to Olympia, and before I knew it I was realizing that if I didn't take matters into my own hands and attempt to move beyond my sometimes crippling social anxiety, it would just be Adam and I staring at each other for eternity. The book group was a LIFE SAVING first step because it showed me that there were women in this new city that I could relate to. But I knew I needed to continue to push myself.

Then I read a post on All & Sundry on how Linda was going to step outside her comfort zone and run a half marathon. Even though it scared her, and she thought she couldn't do it, and her immediate impulse was to say NO for so many reasons, she was going to commit anyway. At the bottom of her post she dared her readers to think of the thing they immediately skirted away from, think of something that made our stomach twist simply at the thought of tackling it, and then DO IT. 

Ummmm I can't run a full, half or even one-sixteenth marathon, so that's out. I kept asking myself, what is there that I desperately want to do? What is there that lies just beyond my reach? What am I missing? What is out there that I felt like I would love completely and utterly but I'm just too chicken to actually tackle? For quite a while I was drawing serious blanks.

Then I went and saw Whip It.

And as I walked back to my car I remembered my fleeting roller derby dream. And how I love being on a team. And how I literally grew up on roller blades. And how even though roller blades and skates are NOTHING alike, I was pretty sure I could figure it out. And I remembered how I LIVE for dress up themed parties, how I desperately needed an evil alter ego, and how fucking thrilled beyond belief I would be if I tried this, and then found out that I did in fact love being a roller derby girl.

So I did. Sunday November 1st I fought the urge to vomit the ENTIRE drive to the stake rink, I gathered the strength needed to open the door to the rink, and I walked in the room and announced to a room full of bad ass women I desperately wanted to be friends with that I was Fresh Meat and would like a shot at being an Oly Roller. I shit you not, my heart has never beat faster in my entire life.

I survived the first practice. And the second, and even the third. And I am going to keep coming back for more until I can officially call myself a 'roller derby girl'. I have 60 days to practice with the team and see if this whole roller derby thing is for me. At the end of those 60 days I will be given a roller derby name, handed the worlds shortest shirt and a pair of fishnet tights and welcomed officially on board. I have no idea if this is my new love, or a fleeting hobby, but it doesn't even matter because I can say with actual certainty that I will never look back on my life and say, "I wish I had tried out for a roller derby team... I wonder if I would have been good at that?"

Want to know more about this sport I am jumping into? Here's a video called, Roller Derby Explained, and below I even tracked down a video on ESPN describing the Roller Derby Revival sweeping the nation since 2001.

People, I am most likely going to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter. Twice. And yet, I haven't been this excited in YEARS.