Hate is a strong word...

I dread strangers. And meeting people. And making chit chat. I dread extended family and neighbors and really any situation where I'm forced to act like I care about-- and am cared about by-- people I'm connected to on totally arbitrary levels. I know this sounds harsh, but really sometimes my life feels all too much like that scene from the beginning of The Graduate. Except that I don't even get the luxury of bad advice ("Plastics!") Instead, I get questions. Horrible, awful, ridiculous questions. You have no idea who I am or what I'm like and you're asking me what careers I'm considering or today's gem "What do you like to do?"
Believe me sweetie, if I knew do you think I'd be standing outside in my pajamas and slippers at 2:30pm on a Saturday staring at the cat to make sure he doesn't leave the property and get eaten by coyotes?

So I made this list over a month ago. It's probably the best thing I've ever written.


weird things i've noticed are IN right now:

antlars
pot
can't remember

Update

My granma has been going through some health problems, in and out of the hospital and whatnot, having several heart surgeries. She went to the ER last night because she was feeling real bad and tonight her boyfriend, while driving to see her, was pulled over for weaving. He was taken to the ER and diagnosed with some 14 syllable brain thing. He's her primary caretaker so yeah. Shitty, shitty times. I'm going to Southern Oregon for awhile to be with my gma. I don't know when I'll be back. I'll keep you updated, but please think good thoughts or pray or do whatever you can. <3.

The Hanged Man

The Mythic Tarot deck says that The Hanged Man signifies a person that must make themselves vulnerable, must suffer, must have faith in oneself and in something larger than themselves. Like a martyr the hanged man is strung up by his ankles and made to feel pain, physical and otherwise, as he waits for his punishment. But although he waits with fear and anxiety, he also holds in his heart the belief that this suffering will somehow contribute to the greater good. He has hope.

It's an intense image but one that's been a comfort to me lately. I've been sort of glidding along these past three or four months, having good and bad days, not really thinking about past hurts very much. But here they've come bubbling to the surface and although I've been crying and feeling some sadness, I know in the end that this pain only brings me closer to a much more rich and fulfilling happiness, far greater than the happiness I am mourning.

On a less cryptic level, New York, particularly Brooklyn is quite lovely. Erin and I have been getting along great. I've gotten to see old friends and I've danced and drunk and sung and laughed and all that good stuff one should do on vacation. The weather has been really beauitful - sunny clear skies and a crisp wind. I've spent some really great quality time alone, watching dogs and squirrels play in the park. Yay. And long subway rides are only an opportunity to read. Shmau. I'm so grateful I could come out here and I'm really looking forward to the future. So yeah, it's a good day.

so pretty

So I'm coming up on three months into this arranged marriage that is my life in Portland. And yesterday, I finally feel in love just a little bit. It's been so rainy, but these past two days, the rain cleared and it was sunny and clear. The edges on everything seem sharper. The trees are brilliant yellow, orange and red. And driving to the airport, the sunset washed the horizon in pink just as I looked out to see Mt. Hood rising snowy and lovely past the ragged line of pines. Yes.

Transition Year

Shit is hard right now. Graduating from college is definetly the new graduating from high school. Man, I thought moving away from my parents, my childhood home, the only place I had ever lived - to go to a new, scary, independent, demanding world of college was going to be hard. It was a cake walk. I literally walked around and was handed cake. Or maybe that's just what it felt like. Now this. This is fucking hard. This is like a rainy, muddy, terrifying, pitch black grop through a dark tunnel where all you get handed is stale tortilla chips. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating.
It's not that bad, especially when you're mooching off your parents and living rent-free with no job. Indeed, I have had some great fun here in Peepeetown and I'm glad I'm not in school anymore, but good lord there is an abyss at my doorstep wearing a nametag reading "Your Fucking Future."

First world problem I know, but I have SO MUCH freedom. I have SO MUCH mobility. I can go and do just about anything. And I am terrified. I can deconstruct the feminist implications of that novel you're reading like it ain't no thang, but I have no clue who I am and what I want to do. And it's starting to really freak me out. The question "what am I going to do with my life" is not a joke anymore. I'm asking myself in all seriousness multiple times a day.

I've started making a mental list of things I think I could be good at, or at least care about. But every option seems soul crushing in one way or another.
All I really know is: I want to be my own boss. I want to be creative.

It's bizarre the way our lives have become so public. I used to keep a journal that only I (and only barely) ever read. Now, I post my thoughts and feelings on the internet for all to see. I think it's fucking with my head. Television, Celebrities, Reality TV and Blogs.... It's getting to the point that I don't think anything is real or good unless I can broadcast it.