Port Land Adventures: Wrap-Up Edition

Wellz, I am back in Tucson and surprisingly glad of that. I think I actually kind of missed it here. Portland is delightful and all with its charming houses and kickin' cafes, but I never realized how much Tucson is my home. As someone who always feels very temporary, this is a big deal. So I don't resent being back. I do find myself recovering from all the danged walking--my variegated bodily segments are sore.

I have learned wisdoms about the magical kingdom of Portland which I will now impart unto thee:

-Portland is a locus sans pigeons.
-There are lots of homeless peoples but few buskers. There are dark haired ladies outside of Powell's who offers a song in exchange for change.
-Zoos, no matter what state they happen to be in, are totally kickass fo' rizzle.
-McDonald's is shamed by the awesomeness of local cafes and restaurants. They hardly show their face. I only saw the one. Starbucks is similarly put to shame.

And I am starting to get more settled into my arrangement. I am bringing more stuff out of boxes, and I even bought a piece of furniture. It's a pretty keen desk. There is still a lot to do, but I am allowing myself to become a little less temporary-minded about my living situation.

Now all that is left is for me to find a job. I am frequenting Craigslist, but if anyone hears about any opportunities, please let me know.

Port Land Adventures: Day Two Point One. Non-Self-Pitying Edition.

So here is what I did today that didn't involve being way sad and introspective. My wacky sleep schedule strikes again! Woke up at several time but forced myself to stay in bed until 8:30. I started my day by going to Powell's. I am in hearts with that store now. I bought two books! Huzzah!

Then I bought a TriMet pass for ze public transportation. After that I ate lunch at this totally kicking Japanese/Korean place. They had nummy nums. From there I headed over to investigate the Vintage Clothing Descriptionist job. Unfortunately, they already filled the post. *sad faces*

Because I am lame and out of shape, I was pretty pooped at this point. I went back to the hostel to look more on the webbertubes for jobs and apartments. That was the point where I really started questioning what I was doing with life and all that nonsence.

Dinner time! I had a wonderful bacon cheeseburglar at Blue Moon. More Powell's! I bought presents for peoples. Prepare for that.

It is now nine o'clock, and I am lame and tired, so it is bedtime. My plan for tomorrow includes the Japanese Garden and the Oregon Zoo. Woo for zoo!

Port Land Adventures: Day Two. Tail Between the Legs Edition.

I crashed today. I crashed hard. In all my fetishizing my move to Portland, it has now occurred to me that I never asked myself some very important questions. Namely:

1) Do I actually want to leave Tucson?
2) Why Portland, honestly? What's with the romanticizing?
3) What is it that I actually want to do? Can I only do that something outside of Tucson?

I've changed a lot since high school, and I don't like all of those changes. Portland became for me something of a talisman. It became my magic bullet.

There are no magic bullets.

Portland looks like a wonderful town from what I've seen of it, but I think the time has come for me to be more realistic. Portland was an escape. At this point in my life, I need to grapple with reality. I have too many questions I didn't know existed. I probably should add the need to integrate myself into a new environment to that. I have a hard enough time making friends as it is.

So, the moral of the story is, I'll probably be coming back to Tucson earlier than expected, maybe Thursday. Though I might stick around for some vacationing without all the stress of job hunting and the like. I mean, I might as well, as long as I'm up here. Still, another four days of puttering around town might be a little much.

Everything is wonderful!

Port Land Adventures: Day One

The flights went off without a hitch. I got into PDX around 2:00ish. (Another shout-out to Amanda and Jake who are totally killer) From there, I took the MAX train into town. It wiggled. It wiggled a lot. My suitcase fell down once. I checked in at the hostel after a 15-minute walk or so from the train stop. It was green and not flat.

I loafed for a bit but got into doing to some more job searching. When I got sick of that, I decided to take a walk around the area. I estimate it must have been around two or three miles, all told. I kept an eye out for ‘Now Hiring’ signs and apartment complexes that were currently leasing. Plenty of apartments, but the only ‘Hiring’ sign I saw was in the window of Hollywood Video. I have not ruled it out.

I came back to the hostel and drafted an email for a potential job that wasn't entirely molded from bullshit. We’ll see what happens with that. At this point I got hungry, so I sojourned for vittles. As it turned out, I accidentally ate pretentious pasta. I poked into this Italian place, and before I realized my mistake, I was seated. It had menu items at full dollar values. By then, I was too uncomfortable to admit my mistake and leave to get a burger or something, so I wound up getting a spaghetti and meatball appetizer and a disarmingly potent lemon drop. That thing was beastly.

Then I went to bed around nine because I am apparently an old man. Stay tuned for more wacky adventures! Day two shall hold, at the very least, applying at Hollywood video, a car wash, and checking out the vintage clothing job. Yowzers!

My Sleep Schedule Has Become Wack

I repeat: wack. And not in the way usual for me. Earlier in the summer, I was able to avoiding going nocturnal again, Thor be praised. I've been going to bed by or before midnight and have been waking up around 5:00 am for the past few days. I wake up rested and ready to go with no desire to lounge around in bed until ten or eleven o'clock. I get out of bed, maybe do a little writing, catch up on my RSS feeds, eat some breakfast, and then carry on with my day.

So I ask: what is wrong with me? This isn't something I sought; it just happened. I'm starting to think this is another sign that I am *lowers voice* ...maturing. You know, like as an adult. I've also been drinking more water, reading more, cutting way back on junk food and soda, and been more financially responsible. The heck? And I didn't even say to myself, 'I should start doing these things.' It was a shift in instincts. I wanted to start doing these things.

Anyone else a little freaked out?

It's not as though I am overly upset by these new developments, they just snuck up on me. It's almost as though I care about things now and am growing up.

lolbutts

Hostel

I booked my reservation for my scouting trip to Portland. I'm staying in a hostel in the northwest part of town which a short distance from downtown and west of the Pearl District. So we're clear, that actually means very little to me; I just thought I'd mention it. I'm booked for six days starting the twenty-fifth and ending the thirty-first. I'll be coming home that Saturday.

On this adventure I am hoping to secure both employment and housing. Succeeding that, I will fly back, shoot around some farewells, pack up the auto, and drive the auto up to my new place of residence. If all goes well, I'll be living in Portland in little more than two weeks.

Without going too much into it, I am very excited. I've been on this up-and-down cycle of anxiety over this since I found out I'd be losing my job at the end of July. I'm still a little jittery and rightly so. We're talking a major life change on the order which I have never before experienced or initiated. And for a moment of back patting and horn tooting: I am proud of myself for doing something that isn't just me floating into something new. Proactive! Motivated!

Is this what it feels like to be an adult? I'm thinking I might like it. Of course, there's every likelihood I'll wind up in some nothing job just to make rent and bills, but adults do that too.

:(

Slow internets... My sole consolation is that I named my newly created wireless network "ponyprincess." It's a small token, but it is what I have to work with. Downloads that used to take seconds on cable now can take 15-20 minutes on DSL. Browsing is still fine, though I've noticed load times on larger webcomic images. Enough whining from me tonight.

*sad face emoticon*

Woe has come to Fort Ryan. I’ve been told when my last day of employment shall be. As of August the First, I shall be more shiftless than is usual or fitting. This may energize my departure schemes, as a fellow cannot be expected to pay bills without any honestly-come-by income, and I am too whimsical for the rough and tumble world of black-market circuses. I am ill-equipped for a life of hooliganry, so if anyone knows of any jobs and/or rackets that range in illegality from only mildly to not at all, I’d be appreciative if you let me know the skinny.

Relocation Excitation

I am perched upon the verimost cusp of moving. And I think there is one thing that nearly everyone can agree on: moving is not splendid. There are sure to be dissenters, but we shall put these people down as being totally crackers and we will have none of their jackanapes.

Most of my things are packed, but I haven’t yet gotten to the exciting part of discovering food in the cupboards that I’ve had since I moved in and forgot about (I’m saving the fun bits for last).

I will say this for moving: it gives me license to be at sixes and sevens—boxes and bits of debris everywhere and no apology forthcoming. That is the only positive thing I can think of, especially when the process calls for moving large articles up flights of stairs for which I blame Jesse’s new apartment.

There are things I could say about moving back in with the folks for a spell, but the situation is only temporary. I’m likely to spend as much time out of the house as possible, time that I will try to use for some advantageous scribbling and jots. If the new library is open by there, I’ll spend a fair amount of time recessed in any one of its available nooks. I haven’t been in public libraries much of late, but they have to be less of a douchebaggy place to write than coffee houses.

Tidbit: Juno has reinvigorated my youthful passion for orange Tic Tacs. I fear I am in for days of orange tinted tongues with accompanying tangy fresh breath.

I have been remiss

I am a festering puss gland filled with the vile putrescence of neglectivity. There is something dishearteningly dissuasive about graduating with a Creative Writing degree when it comes to actually doing any writing. The whole idea of this blog was to get me used to writing on a regular basis. Instead it has acted as an avenue for the occasional musing or to grouse about Christianity.

My point is this: no more! I got together with a chum of mine today, who is one of my writerly friends, and though I was fully aware I'd been avoiding what is supposed to be my life and driving passion, the sad truth of it hadn't fully struck me until I admitted it to a kindred spirit.

I have allowed myself to sink into the drudgery of the sleep-eat-work routine. Today marks the day that I try and shimmy and shake my way out of it. Hear me blag, and hear me good: I'muh gonna write you up nice. I's gonna whisper sweet somethings into your ear and fill you with the turgidity of muh words. Brace yourself, it's about to get erudite all up in this bitch.

Respek.

Good Idea, or Best Idea?

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Best Idea.

Am I So Vain?

Okay, so if think that the song "You're So Vain" is about the guy Carly Simon says "I bet you think this song is about you" to, does that make me vain by extension?

Also, do I have to forfeit my man tackle if the first association I have with that song is that scene near the end of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days? I think I probably do.

Shucks.

My Geosciences Notes for Today

Today I was a very responsible and diligent student, and took some serious notes that were very thorough. I can make plate tectonics fun! Here's a sample:

It is cold in here. I am cold. [Bryan: It's not cold.] You lie. You lie like and lying liar. I am also tired. There needs to be food in my belleh. I might just have to bust out my emergency rations. I could really go for a sammich right about now. A sammich with salami. Genoa salami. Mit der mustard. Yurms!

Knowledge! That was science, just then. We have learned science. We are scientists. The Earfs are moving.

i r the earth. i r serious planet.

[Something about ridges] Ruffles have ridges, too. Har har… “rigid.” Turgid.

[On the PowerPoint] A VISCOELASTIC SOLID. NOT LIQUID!! (That is vurry importint to know. Distinction!)

Just say “no” to Comic Sans. [Which a college professor has used for her notes presentation]

She says “may-zure.” Measure. May-dzure.

South America is faster than us. They’s be getting’ uppity.

My nipples are starting to become an immediate concern. Had to zip up the jacket. I could direct the PowerPoint with those bad boys.

Tonga. Tonganese. Polynesian. Islands. Eye lands. The land of tonganese eyes.

I r learning plake tectonics!

The asthenosphere is a viscoelastic solid; it is so totally not a liquid. That’s just being straight ig’nint, dog.

There are also Vikings [in Iceland]. Vikings who enjoy the rejuvenating feeling they receive from a nice soak in the natural hot springs. Geolog-tastic refreshment!

A continental rift is the solution to illegal immigration. Protect our borders!! Geology is on America’s side. It wasn’t at first, but then the Freedom Eagle™ laid a bit of the “smack” down.

I will relax in the last few minutes. It would be easier for me to relax if I could enjoy a refreshing soak with a Viking. If they could soak so nicely, why is it that they raped and pillaged so much? I bet all they would have needed was a good masseuse. Rub that stress out, you hulking lug, you. It’s also weird that people from the Scandinavian area are pretty much the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet. That’s hope for the descendants of the people who raped and pillaged America. Maybe we’ll be charming one day.
Though, I think YouTube is going to prevent that from ever happening.

Chilean. Chillin’. Chill-eh-in. You be illin’. You tell it like it is Run DMC, you tell it like it is.

RING OF FIRE!

Now you know about plate tectonics, too. I have have imparted science to you. Can you feel it? That wonderful swarmy feeling in your brainpan? That is science squirming around in there.

You are welcome.

*John Lennon Song Title*

Whilst being oh-so-very productive at work, I had an interesting line of thought:

Science is all wonderful and explanatory, and it has that pesky tendency to do away with all the mysticism that was cause for arise in god-conjuring. Having that as an advantage, what would happen if a community was constructed with absolutely no mention of any religion or religious belief?

It makes me wonder if some dreamer in the community might concoct some form of theistic philosophy. There's a possibility, but with science demystifying all the reasons for having thought up spirits and gods in the first place, I don't think it is all that likely. Even if it did happen, I couldn't imagine the idea being treated with all that much credibility. It seems so novel an idea that no one has any thoughts of any god when we live in a world where so much is informed by theistic muddle.

What would that community be like? A nice place to live, I’d think. I’d imagine there would be a much healthier attitude about sexuality. Death would no longer be a subject that’s treated as borderline taboo. Morality would be based on empathy, and policies would be made as a result of logic with the benefit of evidence. Hey, and no more gender inequality based on sacred text supported patriarchy (that's one of my favorites).

You can’t really call it an atheistic community because there would be no theistic beliefs to be without. I do understand the problem with providing a selective heritage, but in this case, I think it would be beneficial. The biggest loss would be a whole lot of really good literature.

Although, I guess you could change the context, and teach all the religions as purely fictional. That way Paradise Lost would not need to be excluded.

This is why I’d like to be some kind of dictator, so I could set up these sorts of grand societal experiments.

(All this is tangentially connected to me having read this blog post)

The Thing of My Happiness

Through clever manipulation of the waiting list, my insistent hounding of my adviser, and the inexplicableness of the English department actually adding sections instead of canceling them, I have gotten into another semester of Advanced Fiction. That means another semester of the academic system kicking my ass into actually doing some writing.

Of course, I'd feel better about it if I was actually able to attend the last meeting of my current workshop, but my sisters have seen fit to get married so friggin' close to each other. My bridesboy duties call me to Wisconsin. I'd hate to have all the manscaping I did to look good in the dress go to waste.

But overall, I'm just stoked about getting a chance to have my slacking bottom wound up into gear. I need me one o' them wind-up keys to shove into my behind every so often to get me into gear. Effective plus exciting. Everybody wins.

Alert the CDC! I am diseases!

I'm sick. Awesome. This'll make two out of the last three birthdays where I'll be infected with critters. For twenty, I had mono, what an adventure in laying in bed like a rutted fish. This year, I'll be serving up some unknown throat bid'ness. Nursemom says I ought to go to Urgent Care to get it checked out to see if I need antibiotics if it's strep. I'll do that tomorrow during the time I'd normally be at work, which I've taken off because I have a history of working myself too hard when I'm sick.

I wish I had me some Airborne. And as long as I'm wishing for stuff, I'd also like to wish for the stuff to actually do something. Don't mind me, when I get sick, I get more upset at useless supplements like Airborne and echinacea. I'm bitter like that.

On the looking up and up, I received a bit of lovlies today. I'm officially registered for another semester of Advanced Fiction. There's another semester of the academic setting forcing me to get some writing done in store for this guy. *thumbs in*

imagine this here thingum

I'd like for us to to go on a wondrous mind adventure on the magic carpet of our imaginations. Grab your fruit snacks and juice boxes, and away we go!:

Let's say that the ruling elite of this country came together to publish a book that was basically a serious of essays about how the world worked and how it ought to be run. It's a book that serves their interests, maintains the legitimacy of their position, and reinforces their methods and ideology.

Now fast forward a few thousand years and zoom halfway across the world. That book is no longer opinion but considered to be the end-all of all instruction and morality, though when it was written, it was just the opinions of those already in power. While it would likely make some very good points and may very well have been useful at the time it was written, ultimately it's a text that was written to be relevant for a civilization so far removed from the one that reveres it that using it as a road map of unquestionable truth to base every decision on would be pretty dang-ole preposterous.

You'd think, huh?

Poster for Ryan

I can only describe my feelings as "way fuggin' stoked."


It will soon grace my walls (once it makes it across the Atlantic). Damn you John Allison, I would go gay and go British for you. *whimper*

Happy Columbus Day

I swear, if I knew that exploiting an indigenous people would land me a holiday, I would have started doing so at a much younger age. Now I'm just playing catch-up.

I mean, come on, I have a reputation to live up to.

In Which I am a Slacker

I am a slacker. This fact is inescapable. I've come across few people who were genuinely motivated. Everyone else is like me to whatever degree. I imagine myself somewhere on the spectrum between ready-to-take-on-the-world and stoned-and-hungry-on-the-couch.

My noggin's been a-workin' lately about life, the universe, and everything. And any introspection on my part soon leads to thoughts of Life After College™. Until now, it's been grad school in some locale outside the southwest.

Except not.

There is no graduate school on my foreseeable horizon. Granted my horizon rarely stretches past a few weeks. That's me: few expectations and fewer worries. Does that make me Timon? If so, I need to find my Pumbaa. Jesse could be my Pumbaa. His bottomgas is most certainly foul enough, but he has direction (that sum'bitch) and is nowhere near rotund enough.

My life plan as it stands today: live, write, scratch at stuff, train attack kittens, and die by meteorite leaving my squalid legacy to my ruthlessly adorable feline companions.