Bianca Dutmore
I wanted to scream...One more egg whites with low fat cottage cheese and blue berries breakfast and I might take out the first person who crossed my path. I was confident a jury of my peers would find me not guilty. I would sit on the witness stand, head low, tears rolling down my cheek and blame it on my low carb, low fat, no sugar existence. The jury members would look at me and nod their heads in understanding. I sat, in my breakfast nook, in my one bedroom in Queen Anne barely tolerating each bite, contemplating other uses I could find for my eggs. 1. Recreate my 9th grade physics class and drop them from the balcony. 2. Hide in the bushes and throw them at unsuspecting victims. 3. Create an off season Easter Egg hunt. My disdain for the egg was relatively new. When, I initially set my goal to improve my health, ah who am I kidding to loose 40lbs, the egg and I still had a healthy relationship. Now after countless egg white breakfasts I was craving Coco Puffs. I wasn't even sure I had ever even had a bowl, but anytime I walked down the aisle in admiration, away from the perimeter of the store where I had been relegated to since my decision to be "healthy" I felt that damn Cuckoo, Sonny, mocking me and my cage free eggs.
Elizabeth Brown
I could still see the empty syringe lying next to my body. My friends no longer in site, seemingly left hours ago. The tourniquet was released from my arm, had I had the foresight or did someone assist me? My mental fog was slowly clearing, I got up off my damp sleeping pad did a quick scan of my body and reassured myself that I had no major injuries. No, new cuts or bruises and I seemed to be moving everything without issue. Next a tally of my belongings. Miraculously nothing was missing. I walked over the closest receptacle in hopes of finding something to clue me in to what day it was, picked out "the Stranger" and began reading an article about local musicians. The grunge band scene that had brought me and many others to Seattle, in the 90's, had moved onto something else, and Seattle was no longer the musical haven it had once been. I had moved here with my beat up 86 Volkswagen Rabbit, dog Luna, and acoustic guitar. I arrived in 1995 with dreams of playing successfully in local coffee shops and then bigger local venues, never compromising my love for the "craft" for fame and fortune. I was an idealist. I was going to be part of a movement that would change our world as we know it. I would be a fighter for injustice, standing up for the underdog. I had packed up my car, said bye to my parents hopped on the interstate and headed towards Seattle, knowing I was going to make a difference.
I arrived in the summer and immediately found a group of like minded individuals. They sat in the park, singing songs, playing their guitars talking about the restraints government was putting on our society. I immediately felt that I had discovered my niche and became a part of the group very quickly. I started to date a guy, Ziggy,from Federal Way, whom I later found out real name was Mike Daniels. The work was not as steady as I would have liked, but I was carefree and happy. Sleeping at times in the park and other times renting a room at various hostels. I picked up the occasional gig at local coffee shops and took advantage of open mic night when I could.
Then in 1996 about 8 months after I had moved to Seattle I found out that I was pregnant. "Ziggy" felt that a baby, "was too restricting for his lifestyle". Funny, how he felt the same way about condoms. The baby meant that I needed to find steady work, that I could no longer jump from place to place, not knowing where I was going to lie my head that night. I had someone else to care for. So I went to various businesses and found work at a coffee shop, that allowed me to play my music on my days off. About 3.5 months later I began having horrible cramping and when I felt the trickle down my leg I knew what was happening. I didn't expect the emotional rollercoaster I experienced after the loss of the pregnancy. I was not in the best spot financially to have a baby and it allowed me to continue to dream and not worry about the consequences for someone else. Yet, something inside of me felt a huge pain of a life lost that could have been. Not the life of my unborn child, but my life and how it would have unfolded as a mother.
This day had started out clear and sunny; a needed contrast to the weeks of grey we had been experiencing. My sleeping bag, pad and few personal items were sprawled out besides me in an attempt to air them and get the dampness out. They had long ago taken on a musky smell that I barely noticed anymore. I could feel the huge rats nest in the back of my head, and my skin looked a couple shades darker than its natural tone from weeks of dirt and grime. It had been several weeks since I'd been kicked out of the YMCA for sneaking in to use the facilities.
I wasn't sure how I'd gone from the 18yr old idealist to the 36 year old I had become, but would say that a series of missteps in my life had brought me here.
Locals rushed past me on their way to work and school some dressed in business attire others dressed in flowy clothing, made from natural fibers with earth tone colors and large stone jewelry that offered various healings.- A lapis for intuition, a rose quarts for love and uniting with the divine, mother of pearl to calm the mind and so forth. Many would walk by not glancing in my direction. Others would look at me with pity and offer the change left over from their morning coffee.
Kammie Peterson
5:45 I was just pulling my hair up as I rushed out the door. Did I have time to stop for a maple donut and latte before my Sunrise yoga class? I knew I couldn't go after. God forbid I be caught by a fellow yogi or someone who recognized me from my food column or the latest addition of Seattle Magazine. I cursed the internet and "personal profiles" that allowed strangers to feel like they were my closest of confidants. Traffic allowing I rolled up to the local donut shop and indulged, prior to my day of being "Kammie Peters" started. Where my other persona came forth. The persona the world saw. The persona that saw me sipping cocktails with the cities elite, volunteering for the latest "Save the..." "Cure the..." "Feed the..." fundraiser. Where I was known and respected for growing up a socialite and now one of the top food critics for the areas trendiest restaurants
