It's not me, it's you.

Men, men, men... I'm worried about you. When I look at you, you all look so distant and forlorn. What is wrong with you? Is it the sun; or lack thereof? Is it Portland or the Northwest? Are your boxer briefs bunching up? Was ist es? I don't understand how every single guy I see here looks like they're completely wrapped up in their own center of the universeness. No one talks to each other, no one smiles or nods at one another, everyone walks around with their headphones on and just stares at each other's shoes. I digress, this is a White cultural thing because I see the Middle Eastern and Asian people walk by one another and greet each other, but not white people. The Gay Boys are nice also (there's one I talk on the bus)! And this is a NW thing. You guys are so elusive that I honestly don't have the drive to pursue or even fancy a poke of my finger at your bubble. You're like the food that's in the fridge. You know how sometimes you open the fridge, hoping there's something edible in there, but end up making a face, sighing, and closing the door? It's the same thing. Some of you are expired, some of your smell weird, I don't know what you are, and just a few of you are probably yummy, but you take too much time to heat up or mix together... and I'm just not that interested. I'd rather order pizza. I love you all - don't get me wrong - I just have other things I'm interested more at the moment than you and your bullshit. I used to seek you out, to make friendly and share a laugh or two, but all of you have disappointed me so that I'd rather not mess with you right now. You're a hobby that I'm putting away. You're the drinks behind the bar, and I'm in AA. I'm not completely done with you, but I'm definitely putting you down for awhile. (Wow, that could be a great line for a song! Meh, it reeks of Country.)

Welcome to Portland!

So here I am, in Portland, Oregon! After a really rough summer, full of goodbyes, boredom, two major Irish Festivals, moving twice, loneliness, and a cross-country adventure, I've finally made it. New girl in the big, exciting, crazy city of Portland! And to tell the truth, I feel soooo much better now that I'm here and the summer is over with. I have my future as a successful, full time college student (a person I've wanted to be for over ten years) ahead of me and I see myself with shades on because it's so fucking bright! I'm also a civilian which makes this experience that much more sweeter. I did my duty, I served my country, but now it's time for my country to serve me.
I arrived on Friday after starting off the second round of The Great Move with a blown tire before I'd even made it out of the city limits of Topeka. I'd made it seven miles! Over the weekend, I moved in and tried to make myself comfortable in my new abode with my new roommates. I live with three guys all around my age. There's:
Peter who is a journalist but currently writing a book about the mountain K2, who is friends with the mayor of the city (who I met after being here only three days), and has two really friendly cats, Little Miss and Big Z. He's loud and funny and if I ask him for a favor (like pick me up some cheese while he's a Trader Joe's), he gets it for the cats and not me. I have to fight the cats for it.
Ryan who graduated from PSU with a degree in Communications, is now attending cosmetology skool, and grew up in the area so he's quick to tell me about the things I need to see and the places I need to go.
And Tony who grew up in the area too, spent about five years in NYC, moved back earlier this year, and works as a bartender. He's funny and likes to laugh at the cats.
The house I live in is in a really great neighborhood and is in the part of town that everyone wants to live in. It has a really great little porch, great shower, and is just cute as can be. The walls need painted and are as thin as paper, but other than that, simply cute. The three guys have the upstairs rooms and I have the downstairs one. It's between the living room and the (one) bathroom so earplugs are about to become essential as I am not a night owl. There's a couple who lives in the basement named Arnie and Truddah. Arnie is a substitute teacher and apparently plays a mean banjo and Truddah is a second year law student. Then, out back in the garage-like thing, lives a girl who's name I don't remember. I think I've only seen her like once or twice.
Yesterday was orientation at Portland State University. The campus is in the middle of downtown so it's kinda like TCC (for you Norfolk people) but with more buildings and a lot more trees. I've even made it to the college radio station, KPSU, to get my orientation packet from them so that I can become a DJ; something I tried to do when I was at the Unifersity of Kansas!
Everyone here recycles (the recycle and compost -yes, compost- bins are larger than the trash bins), lots of homeless people, the bus system is fantastic, I can see Mount Hood and Mout Saint Helens (scary!)... I can't even begin to articulate all of my observations!
I've forgotten what it's like moving to a new city. I give myself about three months to be able to navigate around the city, but it's not only the getting lost part; it's the getting to learn where to go to see the best music, which bands are the ones to see, what each pub is like, what each bar is like, what establishments I shouldn't go into, finding the biscuit place and Burger City, making friends and having to do so as "Larry". That last task is really hard because my sister and her boyfriend - even though I've reminded them a couple of times - continue to introduce me as the name my parents gave me before they even met me (in which they obviously made the wrong choice). It's hard to establish Larry here. But I will persist!
I've also given up my beloved TV. It's hard because I'm used to having one around to provide background noise and because it's something to do when I'm bored. I also miss my shows like the stuff on A&E and Adult Swim. Butttt... I'm a student now and need to focus my attention on my studies, there's Hulu if I am in a desperate state to watch something, and I've spent over half my life plopped down on the couch, staring a lighted dots dance all over the screen, being an overweight sloth. Now I can read books, go for a run, work on my knitting, blog, explore the city, talk to my roommates, get sloshed at the pub, and, er, study! I still have my tv - don't get me wrong - it's just at my sister's house where it shall stay.
So I welcome this adventure with open arms and absolutely, 100% glad I am here. I miss my VA friends and the DDG, but my spirit needed this and now it's starting to fruit! Ahhhhh....

Lost in Oblivion

I freaked out today. I'd been inside all day chilling and cruising the CL looking for rooms to rent in PDX and had even played "naptime"! Then the parents come home and they take over the TV in the living room- which all fine and dandy - but then my mom takes over and starts watching The Home Shopping Network (which I hate) with Reba MacIntire (which is okay in small doses (her mouth scares me)), and then she turns it to "Reba". I'm almost reached max capacity in patience when she then turns it to House Hunters! I get up, change into a more respectible outfit, grab my new book and the newest issue of BUST, and head on out to the local coffee shop.
See, I used to live in this area of Kansas. I used to live in Ta-puke-a. I haven't lived here in over ten years and really have no idea of where the "cool" or decent places to hang out are. All my high skool friends are out of my life except for Nikki who is extremely busy with her family and Brock who I have no idea of where he is or if he's even still here. Then there's the derby girls who I have yet to announce that I'm in their glorious metropolois. So there's nothing to do and no one to do anything with. Yes, there's Lawrence and Kansas City I could to, which I do plan on going soon (especially to go see Ida Marie), but no reason as of late. Why waste the gas? Oh! And, for the life of me, I cannot find a decent comic book store. Grr!
So, as I was sitting in the coffee shop, sipping on my iced mocha and flipping through the pages of BUST, I became inspired to finish my DIY sewing projects and to start running. The running actually came from Corinne and my Wifey. They've jumped off the running bridge, it'd be appropriately cliched if I did it as well. Besides, ever since I decided to say "bon voyage" to the ol' boys in bell bottoms, I finally let loose and boozed it up and ate all the delicious bad things that I could stuff in my mouth as often as I could - throwing caution to the wind. I haven't skated, I haven't gone to the gym, I even threw away my sneakers (they were old anyway)! Well, all that unhealthy living is starting to catch up with me because the Slut Gut is starting to protrude past the boobs and I'm developing "muffin tops" around my pants. Ewwww.... So bye bye greasy cheese pizzas and glorious chimichangas! Audios to the six or so beers every night! Hello only milk and water and fruits and vegetables. Seriously!
Driving home from the coffee shop, I left a frantic message on Corinne's voicemail expressing my frustration at my current situation. I miss my friends, I miss my apartment, I miss the DDG (well, most of them), and I hate it here. Gotta love her for calling me back pronto and talking me down off the ledge. Thanks, Toots!
So yeah, I'll get back to ya on how this whole Crafty thing goes. Wish me, and my saniety, luck.

The Unlikely Athlete

Let's just say up front that I have Never been an "Athlete" in the whole able-to-hold-my-own-in-a-particular-sport kind of Athlete. I played T-Ball and little league when I was a kid (even with a broken arm). My dad would drag my sister and I, every summer, to community games where I'd usually be planted in right field (reject spot IMO) to stand there and count the clouds. Occasionally, I'd be put on third base, but that was only because my dad was the coach and I could manipulate him to put me in a position that mattered. I don't even think I was any good. My dad just texted me and said, "You were fair; you didn't embarrass yourself."
Around middle skool is when I started refusing to go to practices and such. I felt that swimming in the neighbor's pool was way more fun. I remember this because I had to babysit (I know) said neighbor's kids and we spent so much time outside in the pool that I got a second degree sunburn all over my shoulders, arms, and back. Because of that, I had to miss a game and even a few days later, I was still tender and suddenly aware that the sun was no longer my friend. Thus began the abusive relationship we've endured since.
When middle skool came, I tried out for the basketball team but was the only girl who tried out not to get picked for the team. Well, okay, there's always volley ball. I think they took pity on me because I got on the volley ball team where I played less than average (I rode the pine so long, my spot began to wear). I don't remember how I played in the infield, but I remember that I was always taken out right before it was my turn to serve because whenever I tried to serve, I could never, I repeat, never serve the ball overhanded over the net. You watch all these girls serve it over like pros, and it looks so easy, but I think I missed that practice where they teach you how to serve like pro as opposed to the athletically inept. My team in the 8th Grade made it to Regionals and won, so I have a medal for that, but I didn't actually contribute except for a play off on the song "You're Unbelievable" I made up on the bus ride up there.
Oh, and I also tried Track. The cruel staff at my middle skool thought it would be a fuckin' riot to put chunky little me in the discus, shot put, and 100 meter dash. I would have to say that I accomplished a feat accomplished by no one else in the history of my skool. I placed absolutely last in every single event in every single competition that I attended. To this day, my unofficial "record" has yet to be broken.
I tried again with softball my Freshman year of High Skool. It was the end of summer and being a bergeoning teenager in rural Kansas, I was bored out of my skull! I was actually excited to go out and throw a ball back and forth and to hear the "clank" of an aluminum bat hit a softball into the outfield. Unbeknownest to me, all of the cool girls had this same idea and so when me and my other nerd friend Melissa showed up for practice that first day, I felt pretty intimidated. Mel and I sucked it up and started throwing the ball back and forth. It was weird though; my arm felt like spaghetti and I could only throw it a few feet at the most. It was unnerving. The worst part, though, was our first batting practice. I waited for everyone else to go (cause I was terrifyingly shy back then) and finally it was my turn. Step up to the plate, get in the stance, bend the knees, clench the bat, and focus. Here comes the pitch! SWING! ...and a miss. Okay, we'll try it again. SWING! ...and a miss. SWING!...and a miss. SWING...and a miss. SWING! SWING! SWING! I must have been trying to do this for about ten minutes when the coach stops us. Eventually, to my horror, he stands about halfway between the pitcher's mound and me and starts pitching the ball underhanded; like I was in little league all over again! And I still missed!!!! Finally, I just layed the bat down, took off my helmet, and exited the field and drove off with the knowledge that I am doomed to become an athletic supporter.
Amazingly, when my Senior year rolls around, my favorite teacher, Mr. Kennedy, announced that they've started a Girl's Golf team. Golf! I don't have to run if I play golf! I took to golf pretty well. I remember in our yearbook, there's a picture of me from the beginning of the season where we're at the range and the photographer took a picture of me mid swing. Let me tell you, it looks like I'm about to whack the ever-living shit out of that poor little innocent ball! Hahaha!!! Needless to say, my stance got better and by the end of our season, I had become the best player on the team (behind the foreign exchange student from Germany who won golf tournaments all over Europe and behind the girl who's father owned the golf course we practiced on)! I even got me one of those fancy "Letters" for the Letterman's jacket I was too cool to purchase.
After high skool was a year of college with me doing absolutely nothing athletic except walking to classes (when I actually made it to them). Next came the Navy where I was ocasionally forced to run and participate in some kind of sport, but it never worked out into anything of value and I certainly DID NOT enjoy any of it. I had maintained my committment as an athletic supporter and did not waiver. I hated most of the sports that were out there because none of them fit my personality.
Then came roller derby.
It was like when the monsoons finally come to the Serengeti; just when all of the animals are on the brink of starvation, the rains come which bring vegitation and grazing animals. I could do this I thought. It took me for-e-ver to learn how to skate again and if werent for the encouragement of the other derby girls, I would've quit at the peak of my frustrations at not getting crossovers. It's been such a roller coaster the last three years with skating as well I can, yet never getting as good as I have yearned to be. Last year was the toughest as I had wanted to be an All Star, and had thought that I had skated pretty freakin' good during the try-out, but learned that I was second to the last skater on the results page. During that, the incident after the All Stripes bout last May, and the fall-out after Commotion by the Ocean when most of the League quit, I remaind resilent. I stuck with it because I absolutely love strapping on my gear and racing around that track and the feel I get when I knock a bitch down especially a Jammer! I don't know how I'm going to function the next three or so years with not being a part of a team anymore. I guess, though, with the take (skool), there's gotta be the give (derby). My passion for derby is still here and always will be, but now I've got to put it on the back burner. It will be back though. Oh yes, it will be back.

Behind the Curve

This fall I'll be going back to college full time. I will be intermixing, befriending, sharing ideas and experiences with people who are more than ten years my junior. With the amount of credits I've managed to accrue since high skool, I've got enough to be classified as a sophomore. That still means that I'm going to have to take some freshman courses like Math and introductory courses related to my Major/Minor. I've still got some out of the way, but being forced to having to sit with kids who just got out of high skool and being perceived by people as being mentally equal to them...?
How am I going to handle all of this? How will my patience - what little of it I have - pan out? At what time will my ego get in the way and I go off on some cocky 19 year old?
It does comfort me that 1. I'll have my sister there to cheer me on, 2. I'll have the staff there to cheer me on, 3. I'll have the VA people there to help me, and 4. hopefully there'll be some other older students there I can lean on. I mean, I'll be sitting in classes and participating in labs with these people; it doesn't mean I have to go out clubbing with them and be their best friends!
I'm so excited though. When I first moved to Ghent, I used to pretend I was an ODU student and not a lame old Navy girl. Now I can be a real student and get a real job and be a real, normal person.

Random thoughts of the day.

On the show Quantum Leap, why did Dr. Beckett always leap into hairy situations? Why couldn't he have lept into a person while they were taking a nap or reading a book or riding on the bus?

I was at Moe's today for lunch, enjoying a tasty Art Vandalay, when The Beatles "Twist And Shout" came on. That got me thinking about how many times I've heard that song in my life so far. Or how many times I've heard "Cashmere" by Led Zeppelin or even Beethoven (the one that goes Bah-Bah-Bah-Baaaa...). And I'm not talking about listening to a song on your iPod and then pressing repeat, but just casually, going about through your day, hearing it in a restuarant, at a party, in a movie, at work, etc.

I got a wicked sunburn while riding The Hog without the proper accessories on (sunscreen). Dumb ass. The first sunburn of the season is like the praverbial slap in the face for pasty people. Like, hey, idiot, you need this! Outdoor practice tomorrow is going to suuuuck.

I'm really upset that the dates for Indiana have been moved up because that means that I can't go see Gaelic Storm at the Norva on the 2nd. They added that show because of me! (At least that's what my constantly stroked ego tells me.) Really, the show wasn't on their site for the past couple of months, but I happened to actually read the newsletter that The Norva sent to my email and BAM! there they were! It got my hopes up sooo high! Then they tell me that I'm going to be missing them by one day. Booo.

I was invited to Laura's BBQ today, and I said that I'd go, but then I saw that there were going to be all these kids there and everyone was bringing their mutts and I kinda panicked. So I douched out. It sucks, and I probably lost a lot of cool points for that, but I really don't think I could've handled it. I do feel bad though.

That's all for now.