forgive my candor and pessimism, but i have to get this off my chest. a recent discovery (not involving me personally, but close enough) has rocked me to the core about men. and for now, the only conclusion i can draw is this: men are goddamn worthless. im not saying this in any type of feminist rant or giving a list a glib reasons why. it's not something i want to discuss at all--im actually upset that i have been forced believe it so fervently. before it was always "men suck because my feelings are hurt!", but wasn't really a serious thing--i was open to giving them chances. but its different now. sorry for the drama and vagueness, but its a very sad and alien feeling.




p.s. not you Mike Jones, you are awesome.

well well that entire day was certainly unexpected

I was off today and had nothing else to do so agreed to go with a few friends to a beach out on Sauvie Island, a sort of peninsula 15 or so miles outside of Portland. First off, the weather was heavenly--85 degrees, like zero percent humidity, not windy, absolutely perfect beach weather. So I'm already psyched, Gaga is on the radio which has me even more psyched, and as we round the corner I notice a snowcapped mountain off in the distance. I ask Anna "is that Mt Hood, I haven't seen it yet!" and she replies "no, that's Mt. St Helens. Hood is over there." If you don't understand why I freaked out about this it will be hard to explain, but I freaked out. I mean, seeing Mt St Helens was kind of like seeing a famous, dangerous criminal to me. You know, you hear about them your whole life, and all of the horrific stories about what happened after the explosion etc etc--and then suddenly its just THERE. And its all pretty and snowy and calm looking...SO cool.

Anyway, then we get to the beach, spread our shit out and crack open some beers. And I'm looking around, and suddenly notice that everyone on this beach with us is hot. I mean everyone. All of the guys are like 6'2" and tan and ripped and wearing these hilarious speedo-type bathing suits that only hot guys can really wear without looking creepy, and all of the girls are lean and beautiful with long flowing hair. Just when i started to feel really insecure and get creeped out, my friend Ellen adds as an afterthought, "Oh yeah, by the way, the guys that own this beach are friends of mine, and they are four brothers and all of them are Ford models and all of their friends are models and actors and they live half the year in LA working for Gus van Sant." What. The. Fuck. Are fucking kidding me. So I spent the next 30 minutes on my towel trying to look thin and glamorous, and then the remaining 5 hours not really giving a damn because honestly, who was I fooling, and swimming and getting a tan and staring at all of the beautiful people around me.

Did I mention I could see Mt. St Helens from my towel. Because I could. It was awesome.

Oh hey remember that time I had a blog

Ahhhh...sitting here on my front porch on my most gracious and charitable roommate's lappy toppy--I haven't had regular computer access for a very many weeks, and although at first it was kind of nice, I'm basically over it now. Plus I imagine I'll need one for class anyway. I should probably bite the bullet and just buy a damn computer already.

Speaking of class, I went on a campus tour of my new chiropractic school yesterday, and although i'm sure there were many super neat and impressive statistics and facts that they told me about the place along the way...the only thing I can remember is the BONE LIBRARY. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like. An entire wall of plastic bags hanging on a multi-tiered rack, each bag containing one neatly bleached and labeled human bone (the skulls are in boxes on the top shelf--they are too awkward and globular to fit in bags I suppose). Umm....seriously? This tells me two things: 1)that is totally awesome and I can't wait to tell everyone that I checked out someone's femur from the library the other day, and 2)i think i have vastly underestimated the details that I will be required to learn during this particular course of study. I mean, when I look at a bone, I see something long, white, and chalky, with no outstanding characteristics to speak of. But evidently there are enough details in each bone that you might need to check one out overnight. Shit.

It was sunny today for the second time in a month. Repeat--second time. In over thirty days. I was expecting it of course, but at the same time I am a little out of my league right now. Upside--it is so damn beautiful when it is sunny that I forget about all those other pesky days in between.

I feel incredibly settled here already, moreso than I ever felt in Charleston. I can tell this because my nesting instinct has kicked in for the first time in my life. I am thinking of purchasing large furniture, like a bed and a desk, which is something I have never felt inclined to do before. I don't feel a constant yearning to bolt to another location, and leave town as often as possible. I don't wander aimlessly here. I'm just sort of content to be. Granted, I'm still in my honeymoon phase. But I don't see it fading any time soon. Its pretty wonderful.

Um, that's it. I guess I just wanted to get on here and gloat for a little bit. My car's being a douche, and I have to get it fixed monday, so there's a little wrench thrown into the works for ya.

life is good, awkward

You know, even though I'm unemployed and living in a basement right now, I find that I am rather enjoying myself. I thought I was going to be really lonely and bummed out when i first got here, but actually its just the opposite--I really am starting to love this city, and every day I'm able to go out and wander the streets and orient myself further with it. It's kind of like when you meet a new guy that you really like and you just want to spend all of your time with just him. Just me and Portland, hangin' out. And I think this one might really go somewhere, tee hee!

Oh, and BEST MORNING EVER--I went to check my bank account with a heavy heart this morning and...SURPRISE BITCH, FINAL PAYCHECK FROM MUSC! I didn't even know it was coming. What a relief, because this buys me a couple of more weeks before I start freaking out about not being able to find a job.

I'm going over to my new house to talk with my landlord, Chap Wu. He's the most stereotypical asian guy I've ever met, he even said on the phone "you come with check fo 600 dollar" when I talked to him about signing the lease. It'll be nice to have my own room again, but the basement here isn't actually too bad--there's a bed with an awesome down comforter, and Ellen's pitbull Betsy comes down and snuggles with me every night so I don't get scared.

I want to go on a walk but its dark and I'm afraid I'll get lost...

Whew sorry its been a little bit. I've been busy. And internet/computer-less.

I'm in Portland. Wow. I'm actually here. I didn't think this would ever actually come. It's been interesting so far, in a much different way than I could have ever anticipated.

For my whole life I've been defined by what a weirdo I am. Not in a cool, trendy way, in an actual weird way. I've harnessed in over the years and brandished it in a way that is socially acceptable, and in recent times have noticed that it has even garnished some admiration from certain people. So I've always been weird but in a nice way. It's how I see myself.

Overnight, I have been left in a place where the only thing weird about me is how ordinary I am. Portland is strange for me, in that its primary culture here was at best a marginalized counter-culture in Charleston (and I suppose in the South in general). But as a result, I am still on the fringe. I'm not a hipster. I'm not a yuppie. I'm not really anything much. Perhaps the time has come to define myself, I don't know.

On a lighter note, everyone here is fucking tiny and beautiful. I am by no means a large person in any sense, but in comparison to the average chick walking down the street I feel akin to Andre the Giant, all large and bumbling.

Um I'm not feeling particularly literary this evening, so I'm just gonna start making lists.

Things I'm Excited About:
Kelly moving to LA
Erin moving to San Fran
Visiting Gaby in San Fran
Going to a Janet Fitch book reading/meet and greet at some point in LA
Going to Powell's tomorrow to buy some more books
Possibly having a spot in a house
Possibly having a job (will find out soon about both of these things)
New fave coffee shop full of beautiful tall guys that I discovered today

Also got a new tat, yay! Also want another one that I have had planned for a while for my back, not sure if I should wait a bit or just get it over with while I'm in tattoo healing mode.

Miss you guys. I mean, I don't see you regularly anyway. But right now I feel farther away than ever.

love letter

Querida Charleston,

My remaining time with you is being counted in days rather than weeks now, and I am becoming increasingly anxious. I have never been able to come out and say all of the the things I want to say, so hopefully this letter will be a passable alternative.

I just want to say thank you for all of the things you have given me while I have been here. Thank you my first house here, and the ability it gave me to live comfortably in an area that most would find less than desirable. I loved my walks to work from there, because even on the days when I was nearly suffocated by the oppressive heat and jasmine, I still got to pass by the house with the sky-blue porch ceiling and the purple hammock. Imagining what it would be like to live there always helped to distract and cool me down.

Thanks for the people that I've met in my time here. I don't know how you manage timing so effortlessly, but it seems that every person I have met here came into my life at the exact moment that I needed them. Or that they needed me. Thank you for my first real friend here, and for allowing me to witness him literally rise like a phoenix from the ashes of his former life--from the moment I met him he has inspired me try things I've never considered and pursue goals despite the risk of failure. He helped me achieve my first legit pull-up. I'll never forget it.

Thank you for my sister. For a long while, we were all the other had here, and I clung to her for dear life in that time before I found solid ground. She has known me longer than anyone and understands me for better or worse. The summary of us: we laugh and we sing.

Thank you for the one who almost destroyed me. Because of him I was able to experience depth of emotion both exhilarating and highly dangerous. After the fall I thought there was no way I could survive, couldn't picture myself ever feeling innocent and happy again. Significant parts of me died and rotted in that time, but during that endless in-between something else grew back in the hollow space, something much more glowing and resilient and compassionate than before. I am a better human because of it. I feel as if I could survive anything. And while I would never wish the experience on anyone, I would also never take it back.

Thank you for the ones who saved me after. For the one who sat with me while I cried and cried. For the one who was far off, yet with me every step of the way. They hated him for me when I didn't have the strength to, they were my warriors. For the one who gave me a new voice for my pent up emotion, a graceful and physical avenue to express my fury, and later my joy. She showed me what strength in the face of tremendous loss looks like, and unknowingly provided perspective when it was desperately needed

Thank you for the women in my life, my Mother, my Raven-Haired Sister, and all of my Amazons. They are precious to me in a way that I'm not sure a man could ever be, no matter how much I may grow to love him.

Thank you for the men in my life, my Father, my Brothers, all the ones who are good and strong and offer me protection free from motive. Sometimes in anger I forget them, wrongly lump them in with the others who have hurt me. Despite this, they love me anyway, and I am so grateful.

Thank you for the empty beach in the moonlight. For beers around a fire. For This American Life. For The O.C. Christmas trees and home-made salsa. The bridge. Stingrays. Music and dancing, both drunk and sober. The harbor and its scent. Three dollar burger night. The climbing wall. Twilight. Green tea lattes with soy milk. Earthfare. I could never repay you for it all. I'm leaving soon, but I love you more than ever. You are my beautiful mooring, my most lovely harbor.

i luuuv ranch sauce

i do. i forgot about it for a while but since i've been eating so many vegetables lately it has sort of become a necessity, since without it the act of eating would be completely joyless (aside: no matter what you do to them, green peppers are ALWAYS gross). new eating habits are going very well, but they will face their first major test this weekend during Easter--I figure I will cope by giving myself a Cadbury egg allowance (the little crunchy ones, not the big ones with the yellow shit in the middle.

i've been majorly postponing all of my moving arrangements. i think because once i start packing i will really feel like i'm leaving, and i don't want to feel like i'm leaving until i really AM leaving--it stresses me out otherwise.

on monday i'm going to see Joy in Aiken for the last time--she got a position as an anchor at a news station in Louisiana and will be moving as well in about a week. but as her final act as a local celebrity she scored us tickets to the Masters in Augusta. now, i don't give a damn about golf, i think its the most boring sport in the universe. but to see tiger woods at his first tournament since he was exposed as a nasty egotistical homewrecking slut? DON'T MIND IF I DO. i feel like i'm going to see a rare animal at a zoo. not unlike an actual tiger i suppose.