chipset

When we were in Seattle a few weeks ago, I found this in a parking lot:

“my grace is enough for you” well *someone* thinks mighty highly of themselves

It’s kind of depressing to think of the various scenarios that could have resulted in someone losing or discarding these. However, I didn’t find the chips in the parking lot of a bar or liquor store .. I found them outside a Panera Bread. I’m somewhat less saddened by the thought of someone struggling to recover from carbohydrate addiction, not being able to take it for a second longer, and throwing it all away for a delicious sandwich. Oh, yeah. That’s good sandwich.

i write the docs that make the whole world sing

I’ve been to conferences before (usually in a costume), but this is the first time I’ve ever been to a conference that is just for me. I mean, not me personally – KimliCon would be a terrifying yet hilarious experience – but a conference for people who are crazy into technical writing, documentation, punctuation, grammar, content-appropriate tone, and the Oxford Comma. I’m in love.

Last night was the Write the Docs party, and even though I was convinced that I would end up skipping it because neon anxiety, my feet had other plans and I found myself attending. Naturally, I ended up having an amazing time and meeting a ton of really cool people, all of whom do awesome things. Today is the second day of the conference, and I’ve learned a lot so far – I have a huge pile of notes to go through and turn into content to share back home. I absolutely want to attend next year, and will be working on the people with the money to bring some fellow owls with me, as I think a few people in particular would get a ton out of it.

During my down time, I’ve gone to Powell’s twice and explored the Dr. Martens store thoroughly. When things wrap up tonight, I’m going to head to the waterfront and relive some GTA (sorry in advance). I fly home tomorrow, and while I wish I had thought of extending my trip so I could have more Portland time, I miss my cats and Ed. Only solution: another Portland trip later this summer! I love this place. I could easily live here, actually – wandering through Portland feels natural. I usually feel out of place in Vancouver what with my lack of yoga pants/small dog/wads of cash, but here I’m not weird. I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing yet – I kind of love standing out – but there’s a lot to be said for fitting in, too. I could fit in here.

If nothing else (and there is so much else), attending Write the Docs has reaffirmed that I am absolutely doing the right thing – I was meant to be a technical writer, and I will continue to be the best I can be until such a time information is shared by hive mind and I am obsolete.

the gathering of my people

I’ve been dodging aggressive kombucha vendors and eating handfuls of kale that fell from the sky since my train got in at 3pm, but it took me a full 6 hours to find a place to buy Diet Coke (which I did, in vast quantities). I passed 14 breweries, nine coffee shops, three boutique ice cream parlours, 5 bike shops, and one full-service sex store (bookmarked for later), but not a single one could help me fill my body with chemicals.

Welcome to Portland!

I’m here for a technical writing conference, and I am super excited. I’ve been trying to attend Write the Docs since its inception, but this is the first time I’ve managed to pull it off (thanks, boss!). There was a reception tonight where I awkwardly collected my conference badge, awkwardly collected some stickers, and awkwardly stood around being awkward for a while before I bailed to begin the Great Hunt (and also eat something that wasn’t friggin’ kale). The official start is tomorrow. I will be surrounded by people who are all about documentation. I’M HOME!

Before coming to Portland, Ed and I spent Saturday night in Seattle at the wedding reception of two of our friends. It was great to get all fancy and celebrate with awesome people – I am sorely lacking in excuses to get fancy, so I was pretty thrilled to doll up as the fanciest space hooker there ever was. The venue was a whiskey distillery in Woodinville, and there were open firepits and lemon curd everywhere. It was bliss.

While the Portland hotel isn’t hosting MamaCon like our Seattle hotel was, it’s still really nice. My room is a full-on suite with a kitchen and the most adorable Mad Men-esque stove I’ve ever seen, a separate bedroom with a king sized bed and almost enough pillows (there are 8), and a bathroom for unspeakable deeds. I’m both a block or so away from the venue and Powell’s Books, so I have plenty to do in the few free hours I have on Tuesday night. I’m also within skipping distance of the Dr. Martens and Fluevog stores, so .. sorry in advance, Ed. Portland has no tax, remember? That means everything is practically FREE.

Shit’s good, y’all.

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poor skeletor.

oh dear god

A complicated money transfer sent me on a hellish stroll through memory lane, thanks to old yearbooks online in PDF form apparently being a thing. I couldn’t get into my bank account because it wouldn’t accept my answer for my high school mascot (or as is more likely, it couldn’t believe that my high school mascot was so lame and thought I was making a funny – seriously, it was the “warm fuzzy”. I went to hippie school, okay), so I went digging to see if the school still exists. It does, and there’s an alumni site. Neat! There isn’t much information for my “graduating” class, though. But our yearbook is online! Let’s take a look ..

Jesus christ, I wish I hadn’t done that. I am cringing so hard at my teenage self that I have practically imploded, so naturally I will share:

apparently i decorated this door, perhaps with my giant hair

apparently i decorated this door, perhaps with my giant hair

terminator was cool, okay.

terminator was cool, okay.

oh for fuck's sake this is fucking terrible what the hell i hate you teenage me

oh for fuck’s sake this is fucking terrible what the hell i hate you teenage me

I’m suspiciously absent from the school newspaper tribute page, as is probably fitting. Also, I fought really hard with my name – anywhere I was allowed to submit it shows up as “Kimli”, but anything anyone else wrote on my behalf came out as “Kim”. Jerks. I am predictably all over the band and choir page, not in any of the sports pages, and I have a sneaking suspicion that every school picture taken happened on just one day because I am wearing a big red sweater thing in almost every image.

Ugh I am actually ill when I look at that quote. Shoelaces? Cartwheels? ADVERTISING EXECUTIVE? 17-year-old me was a tool.

Kinda miss that hair, though.

perchance to dream

This right here? This is my deep-down secret dream. Maybe not so much the “middle of nowhere in Texas” part, but I’ve always harboured a desire to live with (but not with) friends. You know that thing you do where you daydream about your life after winning the lottery? For the record I don’t ever do that, but in the darkest, quietest parts of my soul, this is what I want more than anything: to build a 4-6 unit building and fill it with my closest friends. A little community, just for us. A place where we all had our own space for secret no-pants times, but with large communal areas for friend times. I suppose this is really a two-part fantasy, with the logistics being the easiest thing to figure out (er, beyond getting the millions of dollars that is) – the other half of the equation is having good friends who’d want to join my commune, and not just for the cheap or non-existent rent. One of these things I can buy with money. The other I cannot.

The closest I’ve come so far is living in an apartment with friends a floor down. I loved the arrangement, although the other people in the building were varying degrees of terrible. Replace the terrible with awesome, and it would have been perfect – so if I ever come into a sizeable amount of money, I’m going to do exactly that. If you want a spot in my amazing daydream commune, become my friend. There’s gonna be so many cats!

true colours

Last night, as I was sitting on the couch with saran wrap on my head, I started wondering about my natural hair colour. I mean, I know that at one point in time, my hair was black – I’m Asian. When Asian babies are born, everyone scrambles to discover exactly what shade of black their hair will be. However, I am not a full Asian baby – thanks to my mudblood, I inherited my dad’s powerful wizard hair gene and thus, have been colouring my hair since I was 14. It’s a pain in the ass, but I’ve always hated people commenting on my “grey” hairs. For starters, they’re not grey- they’re white because wizard hair. And I’m short, so people taller than I (aka everyone) would notice and made stupid comments about my old as though they were the first one to discover the flaws of a hyper-self conscious girl with severe body image issues. >:E

As I’ve aged (gracefully), more and more of my hair grows in white. This isn’t really a bad thing – when I dye/henna, it gives me natural highlights. That’s cool. I’m really curious, though, about what my natural hair looks like. Judging by the amount of white I cover up, most if not all of my hair would grow in glorious wizard colour. What would that look like? Could I rock my dad’s white hair as well as he did? Or would I just look old as fuck?

There’s really only one way to find out, and it’s a pretty drastic measure: I’d have to shave my head. I honestly don’t know if I’m brave enough to do it. I’m not a huge fan of my head shape, there’s a reason I have bangs, and I don’t even want to contemplate the horror of my unframed face .. but still, the curious. Almost everyone I know has gone through the “shaved head” phase, although they were smart enough to do it at the age where everyone just assumes it’s rebellion and not a medicinal side effect. Like so many other phases, I seem to have skipped that one.

Tell me, internet: should I shave my head and find out what lies beneath? Or is this burning curiosity just a mid-life crisis that will pass with time and topical ointments?

quiet storm

So, I’ve been depressed lately. This is nothing unusual thanks to my history of depression, but this has been a whole new exciting layer of depression – the kind that makes it hard to get out of bed and go on with the day to day because there’s really no point in anything at all. I’ve been too depressed to write about being depressed. I’ve been too depressed to find my depression hilarious. I’ve been too depressed to play dodgeball. Basically, I’ve been depressed, is what I’m trying to say here.

I’m not really sure how to get out of this pit this time ’round. I’m questioning everything – my job, my life, my existence, my raison d’etre – and not finding any easy answers, just a lot of doubt. It feels like I’m sleepwalking through life, mutely looking at everything with giant anime eyes (that don’t quiver, so at least I know I’m not scared). It’s disconcerting.

I haven’t spent the entire last two weeks in a bed fort, although the temptation was mighty. I’ve managed to get out of the house a few times – once to see Shan’s dance recital downtown, and Ed and I went to Seattle last weekend (more on that shortly) – but beyond that, there’s nothing. I’m nothing. This sucks.

The worst part of all of this is that everything is actually fine. It’s even more than fine – things are pretty good. My health is improving. No complaints at home. Our cats are adorable. Hot singles in my area want to meet me. Everything is great, except for the fact that I can’t get out of bed in the morning and I have no joy. No big deal.

Except it totally is, and I hate feeling like this. I miss .. everything. I miss loving my life. I miss loving my work. I miss good times and adventures and laughter. I don’t really know what to do, so I just sit here, expressionless, until it’s time to get up and go sit somewhere else. Eventually, it’ll be time to be expressionless at home, then in bed, then sleep. Rinse and repeat, until the end of time. A big empty nothing of a life, wasting words on lower cases and capitals.

But hey, it’s not all bad. Seattle was super fun – saw an Astronautalis show, met another Kim, fangirled loudly at the stage with her, had Good Times with Ed, visited the Sparkle Castle. I could use more of that – loud, sweaty human interaction. If nothing else, it’s a reason to get dressed and go outside.

I am grim. I shall change my name to Grimli.

if you need me, i’ll be a crow.

 

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