The Times

Times are tough. I was in a B of A not two days ago and I am almost quite sure I overheard a man talking to a banker about a balance in his account of just $40. 

I have a friend and she lives with her boyfriend; both are relatively new to Portland and they moved cross country with little more than their backpacks and bicycles. She busts her ass, working, I'm quite sure for minimum wage or close to that and doing writing for two different papers. Meanwhile she doesn't have any of the luxuries I do, things I often take for granted. Like my cell phone, my car and the fact that I have some nice clothing hanging in the closet. Though she has a home it almost made me want to cry when I saw her meager wardrobe hanging up in a closet too large for the combination of two dressers and a few of her boyfriend's shirts. 

She and I were talking about the economic crisis, but not the housing or banking problems that face our country now. We were talking about the state of the last few years; the fact that young people are having as hard a time as ever before trying to scrape by. What makes this doubly sad is that Portland is a pretty livable town in terms of housing rent; though some areas of the city are pretty expensive to live in. No, we were talking about how it's been hard for the last few years; something I attribute to the domino effect. 

Though I haven't been earning my own way for more than a few months I can say that I think the second gas prices started reaching $2.50 per gallon things started getting rough for people. People now are doing really badly especially struggling middle and lower-middle class people; people, who, a few years ago would be doing alright or bettering their circumstances and getting it really rough. The thing is, I feel like it isn't until now, when gas is mercifully topping out at $3.40 a gallon, that politicians are saying that people are having a rough time. Truth is, the second gas prices went up people started tightening the belt or sliding backward, and this only got worse the higher gas prices rose, and then eventually, when food prices got really high. The other day $25 bought me a 5 micro dinners and a gallon of milk. For years, dating back even to 2000 clothing prices, even at average places got expensive. 

So when a man, undoubtedly from Lake Oswego or West Linn came into Aaron Brothers yesterday and had 14 original, signed posters to frame and found out that they would be around 100 dollars before a %25 off coupon was applied to the frames, and then demanded that he get a better deal, I felt like beaning him and stretching my arm around the desk and slapping him. Dude, if you have the type of job that can afford you the chance to get 14 different original signed Nadal vs. Federer posters, then your doing alright, and you don't need an extra discount that only applies to you, and not "the average guy off the street." What an asshole. The guy thought he walked on water and deserved better then everyone else. Even if the Lord Almighty showed up and asked for a special deal we couldn't do it. We can't arbitrarily do that kind of thin; and if someone like the asshole wants a deal, they need to go to a flea market, ebay or Turkey, but either way, they need to stay the fuck away from Aaron Brothers.  As he's arguing with me, his three children, whom he can afford to support, start playing with stuff in the shop and leave stuff on the floor. Future generation of America, god help us all. 

Like I said, times are tough, and it is times like this that I feel lucky to not only be employed but to also have a good paying job that provides health benefits. I really do feel lucky to be employed when things are so junky, and I am thankful. I also wish good luck to those who have been or who are now recently struggling. 

Have Faith, Will Travel

There I sat with my head cushioned by two pillows, feet in my manly hiking shoes draped over the arm of the couch, second day hair in my face and tears pouring down my cheeks and nose. I cringe now to even think about it. Though it wasn't more than a week ago, I (thankfully) cannot put myself in the same place of that pain. However, it makes me sad deep down to my bones to think about how sad I was then. 

The thing that grabs me by the gut is the fact that I had and have so little faith in myself. Jane asks me where this comes from. I don't know, I replied. 

And this is the truth. I don't know at which point or developmental intersection I lost or never gained faith in myself. I don't know where I failed to believe that I can take care of myself, that I can withstand anything. And worse yet, is that the facts point in the opposite direction; every move I've made has been for the health and betterment of my life. So why is it then, that I have a hard time believing the very proof that lies right in front of me? I don't know. I think some of it might have to do with the idea of being humble as I feel uncomfortable being the center of attention (though I sometimes crave it). I also don't like tooting my own horn. But somewhere that crossed the line from being charming to harmful and I NEED to realize two things: life only happens a moment at a time; I am only prepared to handle what is happening right now in my life. And 2) that I have everything and more to live, to keep living, and to live a satisfying, accomplished and rich life. Why is that so hard to admit? 

And sometimes I feel like a mega poseur because I wrote a blog on my xanga page that is my favorite to date. I wrote that everything we do in life is faith. Every choice we make, every direction we head in and every accomplishment we achieve all depends on faith. We literally believe we can do something and then we do it. It's not a hard concept, simple, but unbelievably complex because I would argue that I have more faith and more doubt then anyone I know. And how is that possible? I don't know; I suppose you'd have to be me to feel that way. I wrestle with God and the idea of a Divine Creator on a daily basis. And I do believe in faith but have a hard time having faith in myself. How is that for complicated?

What Do I Want?

 So I'm sitting here in my warm, comfy bed at 4:20 am and I lie awake thinking about what I want. 

I just had my 22nd birthday and my parents said that as a present I can pick something special/ nice out. The only problem? I don't want anything. 

I mean, sure there are those things I see and think, hmmm....I would like to buy that cream, sensible, thinly insulated jacket because it's a good warm layer and I need something like that in these winters when I don't feel like wearing my baggy black wool coat. 

But I don't find myself really craving or wanting anything material, and as those who know me also know that I love material possessions and fashion, this is certainly not usual to my persona. 

It kind of worries me, this lack of wanting a coat or shoes or a purse. There is one thing I want, but I am resigned to save money towards a new Mazda because it's just too expensive for me right now. 

And then it dawns on me like it has over the last few days; maybe I've moved past wanting clothing. After dropping too much money in stores over the summer, I have a nice wardrobe that I am fairly happy in. I like almost everything I have and with the exception of buying a few more pairs of pants (as I no longer like some of my other pairs) and buying a few more long sleeve layers (as the cold weather and rain approaches) I like the stuff I've got for now. 

Maybe I've temporarily moved past wanting materials. I think I've moved to wanting love (which is kind of a foolish accusation because I've wanted love, the real deal since I was a young teenager). To wanting someone to love me in the same ferocious veracity I can love him. Maybe I want kittens in my life, animals I can curl up with and watch as they have their own personalities and wants. Maybe it's companionship and love and tenderness that I want (and I do), and maybe now is the time to want it (and to get it. (?))

Crying Wolf

So I came home from a somewhat hard (emotional) day at work to find headlines saying that we could be facing another Great Depression and Bush says that we are facing a certain and long recession unless we follow his new plan which includes (not surprisingly a Democratic party ideal of the superiority of federal entities) federal government intervention in the amount of $700 billion. 

Here's the problem, while the news feed of Bush describing his plan actually sounds like the most articulate thing he's ever said, and kindly explained our market crisis to me (as anyone who knows me knows that I am full of questions). However, this is the problem with being an awful and complete shit of a president: it's called the "Boy Who Cried Wolf" syndrome. After lying for years after the American public found out via the CIA/ FBI/ NSA/ and DOD that we did not have any hard proof of WMDs in Iraq; after lying about the supposed connection between Al-Quaeda and Iraq and Bin Laden; after assisting oil companies in gaining huge profits while the rest of us suffered, coupled by his many failures, I just can't believe what the president is asking us to do. Am I upset that my tax dollars will be used to bail us out of a crisis? Not really; I believe that if anything, our taxes to the federal government should assist us in staying a healthy and great country. I am more upset that a dipshit squandered our money to begin with and then insists he knows what the middle class (and struggling class: i.e. those of us who just graduated college/ homeless or impoverished) are going through. This is simply not true. When was the last time he personally filled up the gas tank? When did he last go to the supermarket? When did he last have college tuition to pay or a mortgage or a retirement fund to pay? Since he's been president his essential, and not so essential needs and wants have been met. 

No matter how bad a president he is, he'll leave office, do the whole tour-lecture circuit where some dumbass Southern, conservative (hateful) "Christian" fundamentalist group will pay hundreds, perhaps thousands per head to listen to him speak about his crises and his "successes."Financially, he's set, and we don't know if we are.

One of the MAJOR components of our current market crisis, according to Bush (et. al and other trustworthy sources) is the lack of financial institutions and others not lending credit because they are unsure they can get back their investment. 

In much the same way this is a lesson to all of us; that credit, whether literal or figurative is what this world runs on. It's not only important, but vital that we are people of our word. That we are honorable and do what we say and say what we do. If Bush was a person of his word, then I'd trust his plan and if credit was given to us when we earned it, instead of when we asked for it ("See election of Bush TWICE") we'd be in a better spot. 

Let's be honorable. Let's strive to mean what we say and to own up to our responsibility. Let's follow the golden rule of being truthful and not "crying wolf."

Life or Death?

Edgar Allen Poe once wrote:

  "The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and the other begins?"

    I think about this quote from time to time; not out of some dreary fascination with it, though it is a very scary thought put into a beautiful syntax. I think about this quote because it is very real. Relationships can die, either literally in that one person actually dies and leaves their body. Or relationships can die, not by age or illness but by a prolonging of time and distance or of anger and sadness. 

   Romantic relationships can straddle the blurry line between life and death. You can know that something will not work out no matter how much you want it to, but in that moment you could be engaging in an act with your lover that makes  you feel utterly alive in every sense of the word. It is possible to watch something live and die right in front of your eyes in the very same moment. 

   And the hardest thing is those people or relationships, that though physically or emotionally dead, refuse to leave. The living presence is gone but the memory is the thing that haunts with a fervor that has a life of its own. That's what is really hard with relationships. They can be detrimental to you and they can hurt you and you can see them wither away and die, but as long as the memory remains, they also remain as alive as ever, but always out of touch or reach. This is what makes the getting-over-someone process so hard. These relationships lie somewhere in that shadowy area between life and death, when the line blurs and becomes difficult to specify. 

Scars

 My recent trip to the emergency room has got me thinking over the last two days about the grand scheme of my life, and what scars have meant to me. 

I am guaranteed, at the least, a new faint scar on my left wrist, which though not on purpose, was self-inflicted. I wonder what that means. 

But that aside, here's the thing: I have accumulated another scar on a body already covered in them. 

What are scars but reminders of adventures and times gone wrong, of overzealous behavior and foolishness, of the combination of bravado and not enough thought. I've never been the type of person to think of scars as ugly. I remember when my senior portrait was developed and the sales lady at the photography business told me I had the option to airbrush the scar I bravely (and stupidly) earned as a five year old little girl who (once again inflicted a wound to herself) right above her left eyebrow. I really didn't even have to think about it before I said "no." 

I am not ashamed of my scars and this adds credence to my belief that I think people come into this world with their own beliefs and thoughts and personalities. Parents help guide and shape children into who they become, but children do not come into this world like a blank canvas; rather people come into this world with a canvas that's already prepped in a unique way. 

I don't remember my parents actually telling me to be proud of my scars and maybe they taught me this through example, I can't say for sure. But I do know that I have had and will have a strong sense of the history scars lend us. They might seem ugly to some, but I think they are a gift, a tangible and visible mark that shows us the trials we've survived and the adventures we've braved. I feel that they are like a souvenir that one buys, not with money, but with sense of self. Unlike the "I'm with stupid" t-shirt or the "My parents went to....and all I got was this crummy shirt" souvenir, scars actually mean something. They are living reminders, current histories that show us where we've been and this helps us figure out who we are now, and where we may go in the future. 

This is true of the scars that we do not bear on our skin, but also on our hearts. Recently I've accumulated another internal scar on my heart which has deepened since July. It hurts, I won't lie. But I'm proud I can look back on my history and boast that I've lived through the pain and enjoyed all the sinful greatness such scars bring.

Saved by Clarity

 It's called a moment of clarity. That fragment of time that comes to you and either moves you softly or slaps you straight in the face (but in a good way). 

Clarity came to me in a text message last night, two in fact. Clarity came to me in three steps, first softly with a phone call, then harsh with a text message and then softly again with a second text. All in all, it worked its magic and I was saved by doing something really foolish. 

 

This is not to say that if I am tempted again I won't want to fall, but I think in the end, at the last minute, down to the wire, I'm going to stick to my guns.