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.