I did not anticipate posting this frequently but sometimes life compels you to adjust your plans.
One of the unexpected benefits of doing a project like this is that you make your own hours. I am in complete control of when and where I work which is at times both exhilarating and terrifying. Not being known for my organizational skills, I must admit that I had some doubts about my own ability to raise myself out of bed and put myself to task. However, it is day three and I must say, things are going surprisingly well.
One of the added benefits of creating your own hours is that you get to be a little impulsive. Having noticed that I had sequestered myself in a single coffee shop for four hours, along with the realization that my work had magically turned to reading about the Chicago Bulls’ newest acquisitions, I decided that I needed a break. Armed with my Colby Jack and salami sandwich, I ventured forth from my self-imposed coffee prison and trekked north. Utilizing my superior internet search engine skills, I had discovered that a park resided only a few blocks north. A nice respite from the dingy coffee hut and smell of burnt coffee grounds. I thought some fresh air and a few green trees would lighten my mood and make my meager sandwich taste a little more robust. Little did I realize that this was no ordinary park. I had chanced upon the Seattle Civic Rose Garden.
There is nothing quite like stumbling upon exceptional beauty in the places that you least expect. I had never seen anything quite like it. Nature ordered into symmetry. Human will exerting itself over the wild to create a unique aesthetic experience for any denizen who happened to stroll past. Row upon row of different genuses of roses, juxtaposing their vibrant hues against the winding, pasture-green paths. Cream, blood red, fusica, tangerine, magenta, coral, lavender, and lemon. A sea of bright, brilliantly colored plants be-speckling the landscape. I later learned that this garden holds over 260 types of roses and was named Most Outstanding Rose Garden in the US in 1999. What a find.
Scattered among the delicate flowers, tall imposing carved shrubbery, towered over all that passed.
I couldn’t help put feel tranquil in such a place. I often find myself lost in the hustle and bustle of life, my focus trained in on the man-made monoliths and tiny technology that consumes my day to day. But, every once in a while, I get lost in the beauty of nature. Marveling at the universe, wondering how through chaos and randomness, I arrived at this place and time, in order to see this.
Though I am a writer, I occasionally find myself at a loss for words. In these instances, no grand sweeping statement can accurately capture my thoughts. No arrangement of words cobbled together from my lexicon can relay to you, my audience, what I saw. So, I will use the only word that can: beauty. It was simply put: beautiful.
Returning from my magical excursion in the park, I stopped in a nearby dispensary, leaving my information in the hopes that an employee might find my pitch interesting enough to give me a ring. Seeing no other alternative, I returned to the coffee shop to continue my work. A few more hours of typing before traveling back to my humble abode and resuming my long postponed consumption of Game of Thrones. My afternoon had peaked, the events of the day had ended, and I resigned myself to a lackluster evening. Oh how wrong I was.
Just as I was thinking about packing up, a patron of the coffee shop sat down next to me and inquired as to what I was working on. I started my spiel, recounting my project and detailing my work so far, meager as it is. That is where I expected this conversation to end. But, as we’ve already established, this day was not going as expected. This man mentioned that this friends were waiting outside and that several of them were cannabis consumers. He invited me to join them and offered to be interviewed. I jumped at the chance. I couldn’t believe it. My first interview fell into my lap. I was not entirely prepared. I had planned on writing my questions today but there was no time to think about that. I had some people to interview.
Thirty minutes later, the interview had concluded and I found that I had a few new friends. As it turns out, this motley crew were in town for a wedding, my interviewee’s wedding, which is on Saturday. Inspired by finding a kindred spirit, my interviewee did something that I was not expecting. He invited me to the wedding. Well, invited is maybe not the right word. He stated as a fact that I was coming. How could I turn down an offer like that? So, this Saturday, I will be going to Gaslight park to watch him and his fiancee be wed in holy matrimony. My official invitation, written in one of my notebooks, reads as follows:
Come to wedding
Get drunk
Random vaginas + weed
Seattle is turning into quite the adventure.
Oh, and this morning I awoke to an invitation from one of my contacts to the launch party of a new marijuana law firm.
It’s been a bit of a day.
Your bemused playwright,
Noah