twelve

Ha. Just kidding! That's not what this post is about. Though I'll admit the coincidence is uncanny. Because the number 12 has been popping up everywhere. 

For example, last night I met a bartender whom I not-so-secretly hope will become my gay boyfriend. We are both from L.A. and recent transplants to the Pacific Northwest. We are both Tauruses. We both hate the Seattle passive-aggression, especially when it comes to drivers and flaky people who tell you they want to hang out but they really don't. (Seriously, people: Just be honest. I don't care!) And his birthday is May 12. (The number 12 and the day after my birthday!)

I also got together with friends and saw Alvin Ailey tonight. The last time I saw Alvin Ailey was 12 years ago, when I was in grad school.

Kate came all the way from Jersey to be my date tonight.

Pre-show dinner: Whiskey and steamed clams.

The performance was incredible. I can't explain just what it is about movement -- something so joyous and beautiful. I'll confess: I cried a little. The show was just that good.

Similarly, I seem to be resurrecting a lot of things from grad school. (Besides debt, of course. Years and years later and I'm still paying for that shit.) That old, dorky artistic side is rearing up again. I recently wrote the beginnings of a short story. (Now we just need to see if I actually finish it -- that's the real challenge.) And I signed up for my first creative writing class.

I'm also going to New Orleans on Monday. And the last time I was there was 12 years ago for the AWP conference. I remember sassy-walking down Bourbon Street, a hurricane in one hand and a clove cigarette in the other. God, I was a classy bitch. (I also remember seeing someone literally rolling in the gutter. I honestly never realized the gutter was an actual place until that trip. And I remember eating so much fried food that by the end of the weekend, all I wanted was a piece of lettuce.)

I'm not sure what all of this means and where it's going to lead and why it's coming up now of all times. But at least when I see all the stupid "12" flags flying around the city (Dear Seattle: Did you know football season is over?), I can give them a new definition.