the rain fell gently on my head as i walked slightly behind sarah. her dark black hair was wet and fell in little strands around the back of her neck. her purple sweater had a hole in the back, right near her hip and i fought the urge to reach out and put my finger in it.

i followed close behind her as she ducked into a crowded starbucks. we stood at the back of the line, laughing loudly at the latest cover of rolling stone.

"remember when we made lists of guys that were date worthy?" she laughed, grabbing a copy and staring blankly the cover.

"yeah. they had to have a tattoo somewhere, play the guitar, read kafka and have a body like kiedis," i smiled absently as i glanced over at the cover again.

"we were such dreamers," she sighed, putting the magazine back on the rack.

she stood there awkwardly, gazing up at the menu, trying to figure out what to order. i watched her and her oval eyes scan back and forth. she was gorgeous. she was the only asian/oriental woman that i had found to be gorgeous. she had this warm healthy glow and a slender, straight nose that came to a perfect parallel with her top lip.

we ordered our very strong coffee and sat down at a small table in the corner. we pushed our clumsy bags under the table, amongst our wet shoes and damp jeans and sipped carefully on the hot contents of the cups between our cold hands.

our conversation floated over several topics and eventually landed on our always central topic, guys.

"..he just doesn't know he's out of my league yet. in about 7 months it will hit him," she sighed, tapping against the plastic container on her almost empty cup of coffee.

i sat there staring at her. she had just finished a lengthy story about a boy she had met at school. having taken off a few years before starting college she was just starting to enjoy the joys of college. her latest beau, kevin, was her latest obsession. she was famous for her 'obsessions'.

"putting yourself in 'league' is what is limiting you. the more you think that certain guys are in 'your league' or out of 'your league' the more paranoid or detached you become. either way you're going to fuck it up if you think about it that way," i caught her dark eyes as the passed over me and she smiled.

"i've missed this," she laughed as she smoothed down her hair.

"yeah, i've missed this too," i smiled and ran my fingers over the top of my coffee absently.

"so.. any new boys in your life?" she asked as she played with the black rubber band bracelets around her wrists.

"nope."

"i read your webpage," she informed me.

"and?"

" i said i read it."

"so does everyone and their mother these days," i rolled my eyes and drank the last drop of my, now, luke warm coffee.

"so you're sticking to your story of 'there are no new boys for yana'?"

"yup. i hate boys. boys are just.. crusty."

"you're a liar!" she exclaimed with a sly smile.

"i'm going to talk about our conversation today on my site," i informed her, trying to change the subject.

"you're still a liar."

"no really.. i'm going to write about this."

"don't forget to put in the parts where i called you a liar," she grinned, leaning back in her chair.

"maybe i'll talk about him," i nodded over to the tall boy with dark thickly rimmed glasses and shaggy red hair behind the counter.

"but he's a boy and i think he's 19 which makes him a real boy."

"i'd rather have a real boy then a 'grown man' who still acts like one."

"you're bitter," she observed as we stood up, throwing our bags across our bodies.

"no. i'm just sick of having my name in the hat with 10 other girls and waiting for my name to get called."

"i don't get it," sarah shrugged as we moved slowly towards the exit.

"well when i do.. i'll let you know. until then lets just pretend i'm diane court."

"huh?"

"you know say anything my movie. diane court and lloyd dobbler," i glanced back at the boy behind the counter, who was watching us leave.

"yeah yeah ok. but who's going to be your lloyd dobbler?" she asked, pushing the door open and stepping timidly out into the damp air.

"i haven't found him yet."

"do you think you ever will?"

"when hell freezes over and/or a black, woman, buddhist, president is elected," i laughed as we continued our previous walk towards pike place.

"you're more cynical then i remember."

"not cynical sarah.. just jaded."

"is there a difference?" she shrugged, pushing her hands into her pockets.

"yes. one comes from anger and the other comes from hurt."

"and so yours is.." her voice trailed off as she glanced sideways at me.

"hurt sarah.. a lot of hurt."

"make me something for my webpage, so i can change it while i'm here. now that i know you have a stupid ftp client on your computer," i yawned, lifting my head up from my book where i was reading, laying stomach down on the couch.

"like what?" he asked, turning around for a second to glance at me.

"umm a graphic?" 

"ummm a graphic what?"

"umm.. a graphic please?" i sat up slowly and glanced at the clock.

"ok, sure. but what kind?" he yawned, clicking open a new photoshop document.

"whatever, go crazy.  have a wild time," i shrugged, turning the television sound up, over shadowing the pixies that blared from his computer speakers.

"do you want to check your e-mail before i go all wild and crazy working on this?"

"no," i replied bluntly.

"you sure?"

"yeah.. i don't have any anyway," i sighed.

"i'd send you e-mail but it's really pointless because you're here..."

i played with the corner of a page in my book.  it folded easily under the pressure of my fingers and i creased it and uncreased it until a wrinkled line formed across the corner of the page.

"what's wrong?" he rolled his chair towards me quickly and put his hand over mine.

"i'm an evil person."

"sometimes.. yes you are."

i glanced up at him with a frown.  his blue eyes burned into me and he smiled his straight, bright-white smile.

"i really am?"

"i wouldn't say it's evil.  you're just selfish sometimes. it's not that bad.  but still.."

"yeah i know," i muttered, closing my book shut and throwing it on the the coffee table.

he rolled back to his desk and sat there, staring at the screen. then suddenly his body seemed jolted by something and he jumped at the mouse.

"don't worry about what other people think about you, yan.  especially people who don't know you like i do."

"how come you always read my mind? it's freaky." 

"because.  we're just like that.  i read you and you read me.  we were always like that and we will always be like that."

i sat there watching his body move.  his muscles moved quickly under his bright orange shirt, making ripples in the fabric.  i could see, faintly, his toes moving in time with the music under the soft cotton
of his white socks.

blaring out of the speakers was a very familiar song and i sang the lyrics quietly to myself:

  "i'll be there today
  with a big bouquet of cactus
  i got this rig that runs on memories
  and i promise, cross my heart,
  they'll never catch us
  but if they do, just tell them it was me

  yeah i loved you all my life
  and that's how i want to end it
  the summer's almost gone
  the winter's tuning up
  yeah, the summer's gone 
  but a lot goes on forever
  and i can't forget, i can't forget
  i can't forget but I don't remember what"

he looked back at me.  we stared at each other knowningly.   we didn't have to say anything.  our minds melted together and the silence between our eyes said it much better than we could.

everything eventually changes. people grow. people move on. people do change and go out to find different and better places. but the only constant [in a music lovers life] are the lyrics to the songs. they always stay the same.

butthe meanings of the lyrics are always changing. they always take on new meanings as your life changes and evolves. but that song remained eternal for us. if i was a praying person i would pray for the meaning of that song to never change for us.

but i'm not a praying person. so i guess i'll just let fate take it's course.

thank you for giving me something to do when i can't sleep on an early northwest american morning. thank you for making it so much easier for me to be alive in the world [without having to clog up other people's hard drives with stupid html pages].

tonight,arriving later then i had expected, i knocked on his door today and he opened it. he stood there, towering over me, his jaw on the floor and his hands shaking.

"ohmygod," he exclaimed.

"ohmygod is right," i responded, obviously trying to sound cool and blaise. i was trying to act as if the sight of him in his old-school puma shirt and dirty white converse wasn't making me melt.

in an instant he dropped the book that he was holding [kafka if memory serves me correct] and grabbed me. he wrapped his long arms around my tiny bones and squeezed. he pushed me into his chest and i inhaled.

i felt safe.

i felt warm.

i felt home again.

but our whole conversation was about her, dara, the girl he broke up with two months before his wedding because he didn't love her the way he thought he did. there was a part of me that was happy but i felt selfish. i felt selfish for wanting him to kiss me, just to see if it was him i was putting my life on hold for. i felt stupid for wanting him to love me. i felt stupid in general sitting there in oliver's gray sweater and my torn, ripped up, joey lawrence-like jeans, trying not to say 'i'm sorry' too much or touch his tan khaki pants too much. but he also added to the problem as he leaned in too close to me when he talked and his blue eyes hypnotized me. he knew what he did to me. he knew that i had always thought of him as my 'soul mate'. he probably enjoyed it.

he made me a really, really, late dinner and watched me pick at the rice. he told me how much he missed me in between sips of water and flipping through old mail that sat on the table we were both sitting at. i laughed. probably too loud.

"you missed the thought of me."

"no, i missed you. as in missed you missed you.. and hey! i'm putting on a show in two days. i could use your ability to make little 'boy indie pop bands' listen to me. they always did..."

"they listened because i was nice to them. you were always so blunt and evil sometimes."

"yeah, you were always my better half."

i didn't respond and kept picking at my food.

i fell asleep on the couch, watching some bad movie and he went to bed. but the couch was lumpy and the computer chair looked comfy and now.. here i am. i'm whizzing around sites with a lovely computer that's probably worth more than the couch that is sitting behind me. typical brandon..

on a different note jack saturn happy birthday. i wish i had known. [but you're such a webHUNK i'm sure my happy birthday doesn't make a dent in your happy birthdays but i hope that it means something.]

reading sam's first entry at scribble i was reminded of a macy gray song. "i may appear to be free, but i'm just a prisoner of your love. i may seem alright and smile when you're near but my smiles are just a front .. "

yeah macy .. i feel you..

p.s i love you mom! the fact that you read my website to get updates in my life makes me sad but.. i love you. [mostly for not yelling at me and making me feel 12 like everyone in that house usually does.] andoliver you crack me up with your 'netscape navigator' page on our future project. i adore you. sorry i didn't call. i'm ok.

oliver ripped my jim from the cd player and now we're sitting quietly listening to classical music. we're trying to be like our parents were. early saturday nights with flickering candles and no conversations. it hit my creative bug though. yay. but at times i'll sit at the keyboard pretending the keys are piano keys. all those classical piano songs i learned are flowing back into my fingers. it's slightly depressing.

i added more pages in the 'about me' section. go look [they're on the side bar]