Smartypantsless

When I first met T2 so many years ago, she very kindly told me, "I'm sure you are nice and funny, but I have more friends than I can handle and I'm stressed out and I just can't be friends with you."

I took it as a challenge.

For months, she had an email card waiting for her every morning. And I mailed a card about once a week. I sent gifts. It wasn't even because I desperately wanted to be her friend. I didn't know her that well. I had just never had someone end a friendship before there was one. And, I had a boring office job that left me with some time on my hands.

5.5 years ago, she picked me up from the airport when I arrived in Portland. I am so thankful that she broke her resolve. She kept me sane when I moved here. She keeps me sane now. She knows when to show up with wine and veg out or drag me out and talk. She watches Degrassi with me and goes dancing at 1am on a school night. She connects me with opportunities and jobs. She also provides a ton of free therapy.

A favorite moment: We're being harassed by churchies asking, "Why don't you want to go to church?" as we are walking down a street. T2, a churchie on a church staff, turns and says, "because we're drunken sluts." She then turns to me and says, "I hate pushy churchies." awesome.

I can't imagine Portland without her, but it is soon to be a reality. She's heading towards her heart in El Salvador, to share her light and talent with those that need her. I'm jealous and selfish and excited. It's gonna be so weird. I don't know what made me campaign for her friendship back then, but I will always be thankful I did.

My Portland Girls

I belong to a very special tribe known as the Philly Girls*. Antonella, Keely, JenJen, Dorothy and myself earned that moniker back in 1993. And these girls are my sisters. Even now, flung to different corners, with different lives, I know that I can call upon any of them at any hour, in any country. So many people don't have that EVER in their lives. Which is why I found myself so incredibly graced, when I realized, I have Portland girls!!! For the past 5 years, I have been grateful for my friendships out here. And I have met incredible, incredible people. However, a few nights ago at Ms. P's house, I realized I had Portland girls. These were girls I knew were my best friends out here, but it was the first time I realized it existed on the same level of Philly girls. Therese, Misty, Patty, JenJen and I were doing what we had done a million times before. We were gossiping, trading memories, drinking wine, perusing bad magazines and half paying attention to each other on a Thursday eve. But, there was just a moment when I realized what I had. What we had. It doesn't replace anything. But it made me smile and feel safe to know that I had a second set of sisters. The people that you costume with, dance with, forward hurtful emails to and laugh continuously. The girls that give you presents on your ex-boyfriend's birthday, read US magazine when you are talking about serious issues, bring you food when you have pneumonia, and wait in the emergency room with you. Oh, we also make sure there is wine in the ER. I am awed.

*I owe a much longer and detailed post to explain the absolute love I have for my Philly girls. A, I hope you still rock your Dad's girl gang.

I need space, preferably the space you are currently occupying

The Kid only comments when the titles reference his wit. 10 years ago, I had a boyfriend who called me at my office every day at 10 am. We unexpectedly broke up one weekend and I was much more hurt than I planned on being. I came into work on Monday and told the the Kid all about it. He sympathized as much as he could, which I believe meant he waited 5 minutes before mocking me. 2 hours go by and *bring* *bring* goes my extension. I glance at the clock, 10am. "What terrible coincidence", I think. No coincidence, it's Roller. This continues for the entire week. Finally, on Friday, the kid grabs me from my chair at the appointed hour. We are standing face to face. As the phone rings, he states, "I think I need space," pushes me and continues, "preferably the space you are currently occupying"

I bring this up b/c I'm still in a loop. People that should be gone, opted out, keep trying to occupy my space in some shape or form. If only to piss me off.

I need you Kid! To remind me that it is legitimately my space. And mine alone. They should go push other girls. We also have some movie watching to do!

Outpatients have more fun

A long time ago, I was giving a book of poetry entitled "eclipse of reason" by Bana Witt. I lost it to a boy who claimed he did not love me or poetry, but my many requests for its return did not result in success. It took my own trip across the country to City Lights in order to replace it. I don't reference it as much as I once did. But, this poem has been in my head lately.


Hard Work

It’s hard work going crazy
maintaining this level of anxiety
requires the stamina of a long distance runner
morning comes on like a Waring Blender
dicing-up the ugly parts you’d hoped were behind you
already breathless
you hit the ground backtracking on sandpaper

When you’re younger
you rip your shirt open in crowded places
and say, “look at my madness!”
but after years on the job
you start wearing baggy clothes
and you avoid doing public
because strangers haven’t heard your excuses

So it becomes a proud secret
like making large anonymous donations to science

When your beeper goes off
no one else can hear it
and you can’t shut it off
because the manual is in Japanese!

It’s hard work going crazy
and it’s kinda hard to handle
without a little outside help
but when you’ve handled it so long
you become reluctant to share

Still
I go to the Cafe Babar for pointers
that’s where the real pros hang out
they write poems like thorazine
or skip their lithium
and illustrate the finer points of method madness

You see
they’re all clever enough to still be on the loose
they all know
that outpatients have more fun

Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!

It’s summertime in Portland!
There are people everywhere. Outdoor coffee shops, the park blocks, the waterfront, and all open spaces are crawling with them. What better time to exploit that fact for fun altruism?

Come on out peeps and let’s have some fun for no money, while fending off rickets and working towards an excellent cause! Think sun, competition and let’s not forget wigs and costumes.

Where: High Noon at Pioneer Square on Sunday, July 22nd
What: Some competitive fundraising for the Art buy the Inch gallery fund
Why: We love art. We love shenanigans. But mostly, we love peep competition. Think of it as training for scavenger hunt. If you’ve never been to a scavenger hunt, think of it as your qualifying event.

Come on….it’ll be fun. When we hit the bar later that night to give out major awards*, you’ll feel like you accomplished something.

*I can not promise a leg lamp will be awarded, but there will be legit prizes.

Shameless promotion

For the two people that check in here, and for the one person who might actually check comments: drew's (from Everyone is NOT a complete disappointment) stickers are for sale here
check out the site, I'll be fundraising for the art by the inch gallery in the next few days.

Everyone is NOT a complete disappointment

This morning, in a hungover and post peep depressive state, I ran from my house in the morning to go get gas before going to my crappy temp job. At the station, midway through my fill-up and while salivating over my diet pepsi in hand, I realize I don't have my debit card*. or my id. they are snug as bugs in my jeans. at home. 4 blocks away. fuck. I tell the cashier to stop. And suddenly the man who has seen me at least once a week for the past 11 months decides I am sketchy. They don't take credit cards or checks. He wants his money. And all I can think is that I'm never getting that diet pepsi. Worse is that my temp job feels precarious, is needed and I can't be late. Add PMS, and you have a barely functioning wendyrella. I finally talk to the station manager, who lets me leave my checkbook to go home. This still sucks as an option because of work, but is better than nothing.
And then, I go to the cashier to tell him I got clearance. And he tells me it's ok, someone has paid for my gas.
I run out, full of tears, to thank a yound dad in his truck. He rolls down the window and says "it's totally cool, you look like you are having a bad morning and I'm happy to do it." I was so overwhelmed that it wasn't until 10 minutes later I realized I could have written him a check or gotten his name and address.
Wow! Thank the universe for the non-jaded!



*everyone knows I never have cash..