Snoopy was right.

No. It really happens, Matt Smith.

There's a downward spiral of despair. But I'm okay now.

Which, of course, is what brought me out of my long non-Blog into Blogland yet again. It's all thanks to you. So, that's right. Go right ahead and pat yourself firmly on your back and say congratulatory phrases like, "Good job!" or "Way to go!" or "This macaroni and cheese is great!"

Interesting plan you've got there, my friend. Seattle's, y'know, awesome. I'd live in Seattle. The problem, of course, is that I live in Boston. So you should definitely just change your mind. Go ahead. Change it. And then move here. Remember the original plan? To move all of Pittsburgh to Boston? What happened to THAT plan?

Honestly, though? (Your answer: "Yes, Meredith. Honestly." Because why would you EVER ASK SOMEONE TO LIE? That's just stupid. Don't ever do that.) I think you've got a great idea. Getting that experience of another, completely new city before making any decisions about where you want to plant your feet for school, or life, or work, or horse-shoe tournaments is always a good idea. I mean, I lived in Minnesota. And boy, those were some friendly folks. I'm glad I got the hell out of there.

Nah. They were all right. It's going to be a nice place to visit.
And so is Seattle. (I'm excited!)

I've got to ask though. Are you looking for a job there? Or are you just going to make the move and then look? Or how is that going to work? 'Cause I don't really have any suggestions, but if you want me to make some up on the spot suggestions, then you know where to find me. Right here. I'm not going anywhere.

Except maybe Seattle. And even then, not until March.

In related news, sometimes I think the cursor is taunting me. Like, "C'mon, lady! You think YOU'RE so smart?! Do ya? DO YA?!" But then I realize that I'm just not typing anything. And maybe I should stop staring.

I've been staring a lot recently. I think it's just a side effect of being highly observant in a new environment. I like to think that I'm highly observant all the time, and then I remember that time that I tripped over my own feet. That equals NO fun. I was staring (I guess I was staring) at some folks on the T the other day, and I could swear that one of them looked over at me and said "Stop looking at me" in Spanish. Which is probably pretty accurate, but there might have been something else happening over there. I don't know. They were speaking Spanish.

So I've taken to trying to focus my eyes on quieter, more non-aggressive individuals. Which is to say that I look at old people a lot. Particularly the ones that speak Russian. I mean, I think they're speaking Russian. Maybe they're saying "Stop looking at me" in Russian, but they say it in a nicer way. 'Cause they're old, and even when they are being loud, they're still pretty quiet. They have old vocal chords. It works out.

I also saw a gangly, tripped out man in a hoody try to put a cigarette out on the back of an Asian gentleman the other night when I was in Back Bay.
The Asian Guy took Hoody Trippy Man DOWN. I mean, literally. On. The. Ground. And then Asian Guy pointed and screamed, "You do NOT do that!" at Trippy Man.

And he meant it. Dude.

That is all.

Give Pittsburgh some love for me. Buy it a cold, frosty. And then take it away, and drink it yourself.

Love,
Meredith