present passion

I am writing my annual blog post in attempt to avoid, if for but a moment, that I don’t understand life & culture the way I have lived it. I am supposed to have a passion. Fun fact, writing is not one of them. Frankly, I am only passionate for anything as long as it is attainable with minimal effort. I think that’s why I like to draw. No matter how it turns out I can plead the case of artistic expression. Then boom, it’s a success.

But I digress. And in those three words lays the problem. I look at most of my life as various rabbit-trails that played out in real time. And then what? I am still left with the present. That seems to be the scariest of all. There are so much of my past-presents that involve nothing. My mind leaps from this thought to the future, full of mute-presents.

And so I continue to waste the present I am in. But not right now, because I am being super productive writing this blog post.

monster

who is the enemy?

who is the monster?

Where does my discretion lay?

where does my discretion lie?

what happens if they are people?

who does that make me?

what does that make me?

 

to whom am I the enemy?

to whom am I the monster?

where does their discretion lay?

where does their discretion lie?

what happens if I am a person?

who does that make them?

what does that make them?

 

what is the monster?

raw

Yep. Raw. for the month of September, 2011. Me. How did this happen? Why was this my mind’s idea of a good time? Let’s…take a look.

I think that my desire to have new experiences, wanting to be healthy, and liking of short-term challenges are at play here.  It is also possible that I am willingly succumbing to the brainwashing of this city I now call home. Either way, I have made a commitment, as well as having others commit (well, 1 1/2 others) to consume only that which is cooked (wait, I mean dehydrated) under 108-115 degrees Fahrenheit. It really hasn’t been bad, though on day number 2 I found myself eating rolled oats out of the quaker box, but I think that was an adjustment low. I’m fine now. really.

I am planning my day at the Greek Festival and celebratory BBQ the first weekend of October. This may not be respecting the spirit of the challenge, but give me a break, I’m obviously getting a little off my rocker.

In other news, I am looking for new glasses, as mine broke in half after falling on my bed comferter….yeah.

phantom ponytails

Most times I like to take a half-inch off my hair. This time I switched it up and kept a half-inch. I’ve been talking about shaving my head since High School and figured a decade was a long-enough period of time to decide.

So here I am, filling my life with new experiences. Soaking my head in sunblock during the day, wearing hats in the grocery store so that I don’t lose too much body heat, and the unanticipated phantom ponytail. If I haven’t seen my reflection for a while I forget that I have no hair, and get the sensation that my hair is in a tight rubber-band. Then I go to play with it and am stunned back into reality as I find just one big, fuzzy patch on my head.

In other news, I bought fancy olive oil and cherry balsamic vinaigrette. One of the first places I went downtown in moving to this city was a little shop on SW 9th called Benessere. They sell olive oil and balsamic. That’s it. and some salt. but mostly oil and balsamic. So cool, right? I finally made it back today, so good.

karaoke might make me feel better

last Wednesday I bicycled into a parked car, leaving me with a black bruise in a location that I cannot show as proof to anyone that I have a high pain tolerance. I lost my cell-phone charger on Monday and today I went to bike home until I realized my back tire was flat. Again.

Oh that’s right, again. As in, this happens all the time. I am fairly used to having to walk my bike home 40 minutes to my house, and usually enjoy the slower pace of a stroll home. But, given the circumstances of the last seven days, I was a bit agitated.

So here I am, blogging about things that in-and-of-themselves don’t really matter that much. But when their powers combine, instead of creating a recycling superhero, grumbles ensue.

Sure, I can see the big picture, perspective as it were; but I would appreciate a little pick-me-up. Karaoke. A dance-off. Boxing. Puddle jumping. A bike ride (with titanium wheels).

Or a hug.

Welp, I have a tube to patch. peace.

 

french country music

I generally enjoy Pandora radio. I get to hear the music I like, get introduced to new artists, etc, etc. But every once-in-awhile I find myself with a station I don’t remember creating. Such is “I’m not to blame Radio”.  All I can figure is some Canadians from opposite sides of the cultural tracks got together with nothing better to do than make a confusing listening experience. I can’t hear the station for more than an accidentally clicked minute and the hearty french twang leaves me in a state of philosophical bewilderment. Am I in reality or have I transported to a mutated possible world? I can’t get rid of it however, because it makes me chuckle uncomfortably every time I remember what it stands for.

Thinking about Grad school. Why? Do I REALLY want to teach Historical Theology? Strangely, I think so. More so than work with people through art therapy? I don’t know. The only thing I do know  is that I don’t want to paying off debts for the rest of my life. Unless something changes I think that might be what my final decision comes down to. So yes, I am looking into different programs in and out of Portland. I don’t want to leave this land of rain, front-yard farming, be a yokel buy local bumper-stickers, anti-epi-culture sub-culture. I really love it here. So to think of leaving this delightful place with the people who make it up brings a huge sense of dislike to my heart. I am torn in many different directions for a life change I haven’t yet applied for, let alone been excepted into. Welcome to my 10-steps-ahead brain.

So how am I going to correlate these thoughts and tie them together? As this is not being graded I will tell you honestly that there really is nothing other than my own mind. But as I would like you as the visual audience to feel at peace at the end of this reading experience, I will quickly try to pull something out of my boo-tay-tay.

You see, just like Pandora, life full of options that shoot from our personal tastes and then influence our future experience, auditory or otherwise. Which station are you on?

Pow.

the night i realized i was not titus mischke…

Last night I found myself trying to lift up my friend’s car. In this moment of absurdity my mind groped towards reality and asking the rational query, “why would you think this was an option?”

The answer brought me bach to the VPC   church parking lot in Southern California.  A sign that set aside that car space for some esteemed individual had been knocked down by the wind, and so I had parked in front of this sign laying on the concrete ground. Later, having forgotten about the breeze-slain guidepost and having the opposing parking space open, I decided to drive forward instead of my usual reversal from that spot. I quickly stopped however upon hearing from the bottom of my car a sound which one may have concluded that the vehicle was being ripped in half. It was not. I had driven over the sign. I could not reverse or go forward without the sound of competing metals scrapping each other. And there was no way of pulling the sign from under the car, it was tightly wedged.

This is where my buddy Titus comes in. I think most men would have thought to get a jack, raise the car, pull out the sign, un-jack the car, and drive off. But not him. No no no, he had me put my car in reverse while he lifted my car, with his hands, and walked with me as a drove out of the snare of that metal poster. Easy-peasy.

I seemed to have saved this memory for ‘such a time as this’ as I found myself in Amy’s car  last night.  Having unsuccessfully tried to tell her that she was about to drive off the sidewalk surrounding the parking lot, the front of the car was on Burnside, the rest on the sidewalk. It was time for me to think on my feet! First I had her put the car in neutral and tried to push it back into the parking lot. No luck. So I got out of the car, told Amy to reverse and started to lift the car off the ground. I got it off the ground about a quarter-inch before Amy turned the engine off. Because what was happening was ridiculous.

Then I realized  we should do what any other normal human being would have thought of in this situation, even Titus: Drive the rest of the car off the sidewalk since the street was where we were going anyway. “Genius” or “hero” might be running through your mind right now. But I’m just a normal lady living in a way  that at times is just purely unbelievable.

the craziness must end. must.

I am moving this weekend, yes, again. August 24th, September 7th, November 13th, and now January 8th.  At least I can say that the time-lapse is getting larger  between moves, as well as the things that are to be transported from one place to the next.  Some friends and I have been pulling up the carpet to expose the wood underneath, and it is ending up to be a very therapeutic activity. All my frustrations, worries and stress are being pacified by destroying perfectly good but gross flooring. We are tying to get it done so we don’t have to worry about it once all our things are moved in. All that stuff we don’t own yet.

 I am looking forward to settling in and having… a chair. That would be nice. And maybe a table! it’s not that I don’t like eating picnic style, but I also don’t think I should be lusting over friends diningroom  furniture.I do have one place to sit as I  have bought a bicycle! it’s new and pretty and burgundy and fit to my short frame and I like it. It cost more than I had given myself to spend, but it was on sale, I had a Christmas bonus, and help from my community group, so in a way I spent LESS than I wanted to.

Part of the reason I can believe this untruth is because I  don’t look at money as having more economic value from a nickel to a lincoln. I live life as if  I was in ‘Settlers of Catan’. Oh no, it’s even lamer than you think. Say I need to take a bus trip down-town, which costs two dollars and five cents. The dollars are brick and the nickles wood. I need two brick and one wood to get on the bus. not because one is more useful than the other, but because they are both needed to complete my transportation need. if I have two dollars and a quarter I get beside myself. That quarter is the equivalent to a third of 5 bus tickets! I need an exchange or at least port to switch my sheep-wool quarter into a few planks of wood, asap! This is my mind. And I myself cannot believe I am this huge of a nerd.

 Yes, I still like it here. Yes, I am ready for the weather to be a little warmer. Yes, I think this blog is boring but appreciate that you read it.Yes, I am still in the honeymoon stage of moving to a new place. Yes, you should come visit me.

oh that crazy season

I moved into a studio, started biking to work, got a roommate,  found a bigger place to move into next month, and am still trying to find a bike for under $200. I was going to go bike shopping today, but the rain has not let-up from more than twenty minutes at a time. Welcome to Oregon.

And a kid projectile vomited on me monday.

Life.

Time is flying by, the year is almost over. I feel like I went from zero to sixty-thousand in moving a few miles north.

But let me focus on the super-important things in life. I went to a sock-exchange last night. It took an hour. Just to exchange socks. If there where any men involved I’m sure the testosterone vibe alone would have sped up the process. But no, no, no, it was a group of women trying to make practical life-decisions on what the most reasonable foot covering would be for their current life situation. business or funky? Black formal or fuzzy and comfy?

Were organic socks present? yes. aloe-infused socks? yes. argyle? ankle and knee-length? yes, and yes. When it was my turn I stole some super-cute/ugly socks. Burgundy with mustard yellow and green stripes, with bright pink reindeer. Could a girl ask for more? I didn’t think so, and I had been safe from steeling, no one seemed to want these diamonds in the cotton/polyester rough.The socks where mine! Until everyone announced that the first person to go got their pic of any socks. Why? It wasn’t my fault they got number one. But it was my problem. Her eyes swept over the room, settling on…yes, my treasures. And she took them. she took them.

But then my boss handed out our Christmas bonus and everything is okay now.

stamps

I am about to lose internet access for an unknown amount of time. Not because I forgot to pay my bill, but because I never have. I am a computer leech. Finding a unsuspecting computer and latching onto it for obscene amount of time checking Facebook, my e-mail, Christmas present ideas and my blogs.

yeah, I have 2. Whilst being unemployed for 8 months I thought I would start a card business making artwork-cards for people. It has ended up being more or an old art portfolio. That isn’t updated. Self-employment didn’t really pan out for me.

But back to my original point: my internet access is going to be in limbo. Maybe I’ll be able to access it next week, but maybe not until next year.

I realize that I am being ridiculous and dramatic, I can use the computer at work 5 days a week. But where is the intimacy in that? That is no way live. So I think I am going to give-in to my cultural influences, as diluted as they may be, and getting a phone with internet.

It is going to be more money and  will be forced to look at my fb status in a whole new format. In fact I may need to update this page at the library to stop from going completely insane typing on a keyboard proportioned for a spider monkey. I might as well tattoo a welcome mat for the carpal tunnel that is about to overtake my hands.

I will soon be one of the masses, and I have decided not to eternally condemning myself, but instead look at how much I will be able to keep in contact with others.

However, I am continuing to balance out my hate/love relationship with technology and have bought stamps. For letters. So I will be writing  as I have for years, but now I will be using it as a form of technology-overload therapy.