Community Transit buses are the whales of the road.

“You complete me.” Jerry Maguire (Tom Cruise) uttered these three words in the climactic scene of the film of the same name. The line has been borrowed and quoted often, to the point where it has become a part of the American culture. I suppose it’s because there is some truth to it. But I don’t think anybody should really think that they need their significant other to feel complete. Instead, I interpret it as: “You help me complete me.” Because that’s what significant others do. They push you and inspire you to better yourself, and you do the same. It’s beautiful.

I heart The Seattle Times. God, I’m so lucky.

I’m the Online Letters Intern at The Times this summer. Working part-time, I sift through letters to the editor, pick the best, and then edit and write headlines for them. My mentor, Ken Rosenthal, wants me to post about 12 letters a day. It’s not bad. I enjoy doing it, really. It’s skill-building, entertaining, informative, and easy. Plus, my Daily co-workers Will Mari and Arla Shephard also have internships this summer. (It’s a UW takeover.) Will is literally five feet away.

Oh, the possibilities!

I am not the same woman I was three years ago. I’m wiser, if anything else. A few years ago, I posted a blog about how there are four main ideas or feelings in life, or more specifically, in relationships that women want: to feel loved, valued, desired, and respected. Looking back, I didn’t really pay attention to my own blog. Three years ago I settled for being desired — I needed that attention. But not anymore. I want to be valued and respected. Treat me like the lady I am. I won’t settle for anything less.

Confession: I like Chris Brown. Last night I watched music video after music video of Chris Brown. He is really talented! I hadn’t even heard of him until I interviewed rock critic Patrick MacDonald from The Seattle Times. PatMac, 64, said Chris was the next big thing. I like his “Kiss Kiss,” “With You,” “Yo (Excuse Me Miss)” and his duet with Jordin Sparks “No Air.” I might go as far and put a few of his songs on my iPod. Gasp! I want to dance to it in da club.

Oh, I visited PatMac on my second day of the internship. I had Ken take me to his desk through the maze of cubicle-like walls. I’ll have to remember he’s stationed behind the big red doors. He suggested we go to lunch someday. Should be interesting, to say the least. Well, of course it will be interesting. He’ll talk music, and I love music.

Stephen doesn’t like sandwiches. Weird, huh? It’s not that weird when you think about it. Lunch meat and mustard on bread can get boring and gross day in and day out. It’s understandable. But I had a BLT sub for dinner tonight, courtesy of The Daily. I hadn’t had a BLT in forever. And, dang, that was a good sandwich.

Last week, I accidentally went into the Men’s restroom. Instantly, I knew something was wrong. In the confusion, my brain slowly processed what I was seeing. OMG. OMG. OMG. It’s a urinal. I bolted out the door as fast as I could and hoped to God I wouldn’t run into anybody — especially a man — in the hallway. You know, men get the short straw when it comes to restrooms. Us women get roomy restrooms with lockers, couches, flowers and complimentary lotions. Men get zip. Poor men.

I’ve worn barrettes in my hair every day this week. It’s because my bangs were giving me trouble. (Don’t ever get a haircut at the Paul Mitchell Hair Academy. But go ahead and use Paul Mitchell hair products. They’re good.) I like barrettes. Barrettes make me feel feminine. That’s nice.

I need Smarties.

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