I have been single for 774 days now, and everyone I know seems to want to change that. I wouldn't mind changing it myself, but I have problems deciding on a specific course and sticking with it, ignoring other possibilities.

For example, my mother, a bit tipsy after my birthday celebration a couple of weeks ago, blurted out, "What about _______? I like him."

"What about him?" I had no clue where she was going with this question.

"Don't you like him?"

"Sure. He's my friend," I said.

"Why don't you hook up with him?"

That's a very odd question to hear from you mother, even after she's had a few drinks. I assumed she was talking about dating, and not just naked tumbling, but either way, I explained, "It'd be weird. We're friends."

** ** **

Reimon, my ex-boyfriend, is constantly trying to foist me off on another friend of mine.

"You should date _____. You should," he insists. "He seems like a nice guy." He's right, he really is a nice guy.

"Yes, but..." My reasons not to date said friend fall on deaf ears. Every other day he says the same thing. He just wants me to get over him so he can get over me, too. Which is probably a great idea, but not so easy to actually do. [The previous statement is my opinion and is not to be construed as an accurate representation of anyone's thoughts but mine.] It's all about my visions of the future and the things I just can't picture.

** ** **

The friends at work always ask me about my love life, too. They don't personally know my non-work friends, only the stories I tell about them.

"So how's ___ ___?"

The heads in nearby cubicles all turn to listen.

"He's good."

"You're still talking to him?" There was some drama concerning the friendship. They love hearing me tell stories, and I enjoy embellishing the stories to make them as exciting as orally possible.

"Of course. He's adorable."

"Wow! After what happened?"

I somehow make my life sound exciting to others...

** ** **

Maybe I should put it up for an online vote, like I did with naming Mongkut, my betta fish.

I love visiting our nation's capitol, but vacationing alone in DC during Cherry Blossom Festival weekend was a mistake. I enjoy the solemnity of our war memorials and presidential monuments, but the one hundred fifty thousand other people crowd every stone construct, filling the Spring green National Mall, and turning the sidewalks into neat rows of movement, like ants marching. They push strollers, they walk dogs, they pause to sip from fountains and rest in the broken shade of the just-budding trees. All of them stop to consult their maps wondering whether they are yet near the Tidal Basin; how much further the Lincoln Memorial might be; whether Constitution Ave is north or south; which way is north; where is the nearest Metro stop. One family is kicking a ball a few yards away from me, another flies kites a few yards further. I see the kite and its trailing pink tail darting up and down. The kid attached to the other end of the line runs beneath it, staring at his toy, careless of the crowd around him. It gets stuck in a tree and now his father is jogging over. He gives it a gentle tug and it is free to fly once more. Their vacation is perfect. The weather couldn't be more pleasant, the cherry trees are pink, and everything, for them, is new and fresh.

I am not jaded-- the wonder of this new Rome hasn't faded even after half-a-dozen visits here over the last 12 years-- but I feel alone. I think all of my previous solo visits have been on not-so-busy days. Cherry Blossom Festival is the second busiest tourist day in Washington, behind only July 4th, and all of these couples and families remind me that I have nobody to chat with as I sit here on this park bench, writing silently to nobody.

I haven't even taken a photo today. Not one. Not because I'm sad about being alone-- I'm not sad about it, just very aware of it. No, it's because the people are in my way. I like my monuments uncluttered. Well, maybe a photo of myself in front of all of these Things To Do While In DC would be nice. I'd like to remember the trip when I'm old. Older. Unfortunately, nobody is here with me to hold the camera and press the button.

I'm coming back to the mall tonight, though. The Jefferson Memorial should be lit up and mirrored in the dark waters of the tidal basin. Maybe the crowd will be thinner.

I'm going to be on my way now.

To celebrate my 30th birthday, Reimon treated me to Hot & Juicy Crawfish, a new restaurant here in Vegas. The place bills itself as a Louisiana-style seafood joint, but it's in China town and half of the staff looked Asian. So... a curious mix, for sure. I saw no conspicuously Cajun personalities.

Karsten Prepares To Make A Mess

I Demonstrated My Superiority Over My Crustacean Dinner Guests By Sucking Out Their Brains. Here Are A Dozen Heads of Shrimp and Crawfish, Aligned Before A Pile of Their Devoured Bodies.