Portland

Heather and I are planning a trip to Portland, Oregon. And I am excited.

Actually, excited is a bit of an understatement. We were originally going to visit her friend, Alpha-Heather, but she moved back to San Francisco. So, we still wanted to go there, for reasons unknown to both of us really. I think it's just the idea of going, and it seems like as good a destination as any. We both know people there, so we'll get to visit with friends we haven't seen in a while, but there's an excitement that goes deeper than that.

Our friend, Genevieve, text messaged me yesterday, asking if I'd been there before. I replied that I hadn't. She told me that I was going to feel like I just got home.

I think that's a feeling I haven't had in a long time.
I'm not sure I've ever really felt that. Living here certainly doesn't make me feel that way, and I don't know that the east bay will either. I mean, Alameda seems like a great town, but is that where we belong? Portland is a ways away, being about 9-10 hours away, which is no minor drive to grandma's house, but at the same time, I wonder if distance from my fucked-up-ass-family might not be just what the doctor ordered.

Might I add, on craigslist, rent seems to be about $1000 a month for a 2 bedroom apartment/house. There are almost 1000 listings for 2 bedroom places, with pictures, that accepts cats in Portland. How is it not a destination? So why the urge for such a drastic change? I still haven't figured that one out yet.

the best dream to have right now.

a few nights ago i had the best dream. you know that feeling of falling in love? of knowing that it's just... right. that solid knowledge that, yes, this is going to be the person i spend the rest of my life with. ok, so maybe you haven't felt that, exactly, but i have. and then my parallel universe showed me the what-coulda-been of an alternate past.

so here's the dream:
it was around the time i met Ezra, i'd been working at the Green Tortoise Hostel, just like in real life. instead of us dating right away, we were just friends. we'd hang out all the time, with Heather, but it was nothing romantic. this goes on for about 8 months, and Heather suggests that we date. she saw how much we liked being around eachother, and knew that it would be "weird" for me to compromise the friendship, so she talked him into asking me out. the persuasion wasn't that hard. so i get a call, and he asks me to go out to dinner with him the following evening, and instructed me to dress nicely.

so we're at the end of the date, which went well, and then it kinda speeds through to the present, and it's the same as it is now, excepts Olivia is just being born.

it's like i got a confirmation that our lives would be the same regardless of when. like the end result could only be one way. it was nice. it felt like i was falling in love. end dream.

i woke up, it was 5 am. i asked Ezra if he was awake, he responded, so i told him that i had a dream that we had just fallen in love. i couldn't help but snuggle into his back and feel all fuzzy inside. it was so lifelike.

something for the ages

there's nothing really to report, yet i feel like i should write. like i have to. it's one of those things that just... needs to happen. i have had some excellent ideas the last couple of days, where "gee, that would make a great blog topic", but alas, no blog, so the topic was forgotten.

i've been more creative recently [again], and i've modified some of the pictures my mom had given me over the years. you know the kind i mean, the ones you buy at linens & things for like $80, of a farm on a hill somewhere you've never been. but the matting is pretty, and the frame, so i make the new pictures, and clean the glass, and now it be some abstract shite. what?

and i made one of those collage picture things that most middle-class white families have in their homes, the ones with the oval matting, the squares, the oblong shapes. i'm sure you know the kind i mean. it happens that we have more pictures of Ezra's family around than mine. [so this struck my mom as odd why? she had all of the photos from forever. the only pictures i have are the crappy ones when we were allowed to bring a disposable camera to school like the last day of the school year. the pictures of my family are either in my sister's posession, or my dad's, like i'll ever see them now!] so the collage thing is really cool, pictures from burning man, Ezra's grandparents, a family photo from when he was young, some of us when we first met. just a sappy memorial i suppose.

i was on the phone with Heather last night, and we touched on the subject of what we were and weren't allowed to do as kids. i remember baking, only when my mother wasn't home. i remember she didn't want me making a huge mess in the kitchen. which taught me to clean as i go. i mean even one fluff of flour would make me feel like i was going to be beheaded. i wasn't even really allowed to vacuum, because i wouldn't do it "right". there would be lines in the carpet when i was done. or little triangles. we were supposed to vacuum the lines away, apparently. these days i chase Olivia around the floor with it, so often times there will be weird vacuum spirals on the carpet. i mean, does it really matter?

it's strange, the things that we keep with us as we grow into "functioning" adults. i was remembering back to right before i moved out of my mom's house. that was such a strange time in my life. i'd broken up with a fellow i'd been dating for just shy of six [yes, 6!] years, and i was spending a lot of time with a new friend in San Francisco, so it just seemed logical to move there.

my mom was starting to date a new man, and she'd found sobriety. it felt right to leave. "they" advise not to make any huge life changes in the first year of sobriety, but i don't know, i guess i didn't think it was that drastic. i guess it didn't dawn on me that she'd then be an "empty nest"er.

the chaos that followed my move is probably best left for another time. just know that i wouldn't have changed a thing.

something slightly missing

so, the feeling is improved, but still, something is lacking. i can't quite put my finger on it, otherwise i'd improve my situation, and upgrade to.. sufficient. possibly not "happy", but content. i think there is a stubborn part that wants to remain steadily unhappy as a defense mechanism to protect myself from the city abroad. outdoors, the only thing i see is really irritating, empty, void, fucking fairfield. it's strange to me that anyone would MISS this place.

watched a bit of the wedding singer the other night. reminded me of the line that his bitch ex-fiance says about "i want to get out of ridgefield!" and he's like "why would anyone want to leave ridgefield?!"

i'll tell you why i want to leave ridgefield! it fucking blows is why. there's no change here. it's exactly the same as it was in the shitty 90's, the same stores [ok, there are some new ones, but it's no improvement], the same attractions [or lack thereof], the same small-minded ignorant assholes, if not more of them.

sure the famed bay area isn't perfect. the ghettos are ghetto-er, the rich are richer, and the extremes are extreme-er, but give me a break! at least there's something to do. when you ride your bike, assholes don't scream at you out of their humongous jacked-up pick-up truck, because.. well, why do they do that anyway?

you can't be happy in your house when your house isn't in a neighborhood you WANT to be in. if you walk outside, and you want to strategically projectile vomit on every person in your neighborhood [aside from the bad-ass-ness of that act, it's quite a vile thought, and shouldn't be saved for people you like!], you probably shouldn't live there. you should live in a community, where you feel welcome. not like you want to run all the little shit head kids over in one of those gigantic pick-up trucks.

living in san francisco was amazing. i lived in a neighborhood that i loved, walking distance to cute stores, yummy food, and i happened to live with my best friend. moving back to fairfield, i think, is my only "regret". i think it was a mistake.

i was chatting on the phone earlier today with an acquaintence of mine, who just moved to the same area my mom just moved from. it is a nice area, close to downtown, the library, the community center, one of the only artist studios, farmer's market. and here i sit, everything being about an hours walk from our house. everything is so far from everything else.

i know it's the same complaints, but i mean really! i don't know if this place has any redeeming qualities. other than to drink and drink and drink and smoke...

most of the "fun" things i can think to do here are just to kill time.

some times are less productive than others.

the sense of [uselessness] is creeping in again. possibly in conjunction with other events of life. an unprompted pointlessness. no real deadlines, nothing to answer to [other than the socially obvious], no real

i dunno.

just rather empty at the moment.

perhaps if i DO something i'll feel better.

it's strange

sometimes things seem so easy. effortless. like life is just a river to float through. then you get to the rapids. the teething. the screaming baby. the throwing-of-food-at-a-restaurant. and you know what? it's not that bad either. tiring, sure. but it's really quite easy to deal with, without hitting the kid. and the laughter!! i don't even know where to start. she's amazing. the noises she makes, and the words and "words" she says. she has little conversations with herself, and walks around the house exploring the same things she's explored several times over. "it must be nice for life to be so simple." she's almost a year and a half. i'm almost 26. does life really need to be complicated? my closest friends have complicated lives, dealing with mental illness. me? i am a stay at home mom, with a lazy creative side. that's not so complicated. but we make it that way. or at least, i do. i look into the deeper meaning too much sometimes. over-analyze until it's at a microscopic level. it's just like when i compare myself to others. why do that to myself? i don't know what's going on in some other's head, i barely know the underlying psychology of my own head. i assume much of the time. i assumed that she knew she was still in love with him. i thought everyone knew, because it was so obvious to me. at times i need to be more blunt. i assume that she knows she's beautiful. you've seen those women on the television, or in magazine ads, so blindingly beautiful. you know how their life was, handed everything, complimented every day, having to beat back the courters. but i see her, beautiful, and complicated, awkward and graceful. and she truly doesn't know that she's beautiful. most don't. there's the beauty-in-all-of-us kind, but this is more. one person said she wasn't pretty, and that's what sticks. that's what sticks with us all. i've been thinking about that lately. i was compared to a woman that i find completely unattractive several years ago, and that's what i see when i look in the mirror. the similarities to her. so what? i did the same thing when everyone said i was going to be "built" like my dad. ie: fat. why couldn't i interpret it as i was going to be tall, or that i'd have powerful legs, or i'd burn in the sun easily? we jump to a conclusion, and stick with it, even if so-and-so says "nonononono, that's not what i meant at all!"... what are you good at? what do you have fun doing? are you beautiful too?