Quarter-Life Crisis and Feelings About Feelings

Things would have been so much easier had I decided to maybe be an accountant, a Wal-Mart exec, or better yet a housewife. Lucky for me life makes no sense unless I am going making moves like Olivia Newton-John. Since I decided that my original 3 jobs weren't enough I got another one to fill the rest of the time I am not sleeping. It's going really well. I am on a solid diet of iced coffee/tea, carbs, and things labeled first with "On the go." Ahhh, adulthood feels so good sometimes.

New developments:
Summer in Portland apparently still means rain and has left everyone in an odd depressed mood or worse on sunny days a frantic loonbag for sunshine. I fall in the latter category. I am the one that does not wear sunscreen on the off chance that maybe a burn will make the Vitamin D last longer. Who knows... Speaking of Vitamins, I am currently hooked on Vitamin C chewables, and by hooked I mean I am almost done with the bottle I bought last week. Only later posts will tell how that turns out.

I now am the happy owner of a position at a wonderful (unmentioned to protect everyone involved) nonprofit as their event coordinator for a big event this fall. With that position I also received my first cubicle. New hobby: decorator. You better believe that mama's space will be the most legit part of that bitch. AND the event will be smashing.

Geriatric walks are best when done before sunset... I just found out there is a new gang in NE Portland (my neighborhood) called "Money Over Bitches." So, the last thing I would like is to get kidnapped for gingie hooking unless I am getting a significant cut and new clothes.

I have also discovered that one finds the best free boxes on Sunday nights and Monday mornings. This is due to the many garage sales that take place on weekends where the leftover treasures get left on the curb for me to find. So far, I have a new fanny pack (that is 4), a home hair-cutting DVD, give or take 200 postcards (new and used), a bonnet, and some suspenders. At this rate I will be fully clothed in awesome by September when rainy season ends and rainy season begins again.

My robotic tendencies have subsided and now I can be found at any given moment crying over everything from a smell to an N'Sync song. It's real. Bittersweet, but hey I will take all the emo I can get as. I am giving it until the second weekend of August, so if you want in on the ice cream and tissue fest get it while it's hot.

The new Bon Iver album is about as essential as diapers for a newborn. I would recommend that you stop reading this now (all 6 of you) and go get it now... Have a few moments then finish the last few paragraphs.

On top of the stress of daily 12 hour work-shifts I have started feeling internally anxious for our nation as we flounder to get our shit together. From Weiner to "pray the gay away" presidential candidate I am pretty sure we would be better in space... Oh wait, the space shuttle program is over too. Or maybe we could just spend more money we don't have... Or die of heat waves and drought or record breaking rain fall.... Really, take your pick.

Vegetables are growing-ish, so that means good things for the market for August... Good thing it ends in September, but all is well. Market Q has become a lovely community of friends and crude jokes amongst new friends. Many of us went out for the ole 25th birthday party and I so professionally showed everyone my ability to acquire accessories from drag queens and eat flowers. All the grown-up you can handle.

Feeling better and more optimistic about moving forward on the west coast, but Arkansas felt so good... Emotionally and mentally that is, physically it was sticky and too hot to enjoy outdoor things. I have good people in Fayetteville and a pretty great family too. It just isn't the same making a flag (boobie cake) out here, but I will eat the whole thing just the same. No shame.

It's probably time for a rain, hail, snow, and a run. :}

White jorts and Ali is not a farmer

First time for everything... With the knowledge that many of my vendors were without greens for this, that, or the other reasoning (aka fucking rain) I decided that I would put out a call for greens for this past weekend's market. I went $50 deep on some goods from some local growers to assure that we did actually have produce while most farms are struggling just to get things to grow in our extra raining Spring... andddddd became a vendor at my own market. Not to mention I had to trek into the deep and dirty Gresham to get said veggies... This is the part of town you do not want to be in... Not so much for the violence, but because meth is real and trashy people come in packs. (Goog it. Dirtyville) As entrepreneurial as that may have been, one slow day at the market and Ali had enough spinach, cilantro, and potatoes to feed a few day cares (not that I recommend you giving your toddler a baking potato to chew on- unless of course they are teething) and was out $40 doll hairs. Lesson learned. While I may be the only market manager that will go to those lengths to push for a successful day, I will not however be doing that again. One thing I really need to learn is to not take things so personally... Slow days happen... I cannot control the rain, nor can I control that NE Portland does not wake up before 12pm because they hit the PBR tall boys too hard at their neighborhood dive bar the night before. Regardless, I have already obsessed about other avenues I can explore enough to take up my whole Sunday. Try, try again.

I then spent the next few hours decompressing (Ipad times, Melba toast, vodka), and then dressed up in a terrifying outfit of pin stripe sear sucker shoes, white jorts, white button up, red suspenders, and a red bow tie. Why would gingie wear such a thing that could be so stained so quickly with one spilled drink or slip into the mud?! To be cupid for a single's mixer of course! I went intoxicated to a sexy singles social put on at Q Center... The theme was ridic, but I did manage to introduce a lot of people to each other and they left with new friends and possibly a complimentary reach around. All in all the weekend was not a total bust. It is 9:40 pm and I am in bed in OU basketball shorts and an Arkansas Razorback t-shirt drinking Diet Coke. There is something so satisfying about being in bed before 10pm... It also signifies that gingie may have hit the communal wine a bit too hard last evening.

This week will be busy with PRIDE meetings, Team Bingo Dreams, pantsuit times, drink times, Sleigh Bells concert, and the possibility of going to Redding, CA after the market next weekend... Stay tuned.

A Long Time Gone

It has come to my attention that this is the longest I have gone away from home ever... I have never really felt a strong connection with "home," but I also have never left, so this is an interesting feeling. I feel as though this is what makes me a big kid... Not the multiple yobs, the financial independence that I have had for years, or even the most recent token of big kidness, the purchace of my very own IPad, but the physical distance between me and the town I grew up in with grass stained jeans and first generation windbreakers... While everyone in Arkansas knew bits and pieces of my cliche teen drama childhood, no one here does. It is bittersweet, yet for years I always wished I could escape it. Anyway... moving on from feelings time....

This mornings special time brought to you in part by a woman I passed at an intersection this morning that had the same permed hair and big rimmed glasses that my mom enjoyed in the late 80's... For a split second I wanted to follow her and then quickly realized that was illegal.

In other news, Market Q is on the way... I am two weeks in and getting more interest, more publicity, and finally some fucking credit (some- not much). For once in 24 years I can finally say that I am proud of something I have created. This market is proving to be not just a community service, but a community builder and connector as well. Not only that, but mama gets to work on her epic farmer's tan for the next 15 Saturday's. Jealz much?

For those of you that know that I am married to work even though I am unallowed to marry my many girlfriends, you will be happy to know that I have cut back to 4 yobs, instead of 5... Salem is treating my pantsuits and I well, and there is a chance I will be making the trip more often if my position as a staffer is approved. Market Q is ongoing, running smoothly but growing by the week. Nelson aka HJ's business is improving and he has asked me to manage his life more often, and the event positions are starting to pick up as well. All of these things severly cut into my partying time and crafting projects, but I am willing to make sacrifices.

Other than that I don't know if I have any really witty stories that I can pull out right at the moment... I still run and obsess over cute families I pass by in my neighborhood. The lesbians in NE Portland are still the biggest freak shows on Earth. I still get homicidal when people pull their passive aggressive antics on me. I still frequently see older women's naked vagines at the gym I go to. I finally cleaned my car since moving here and a bird had IBS on the entire passenger side. I finally got to go hiking in the Gorge and I will now be going every weekend. Biking is back in my life and I am getting used to the Beef Gravy brown color. People here still don't know how to cut gingie hair without making me look like a dude for a few days until it grows out. Sunshine is here!

That is all for now. I would advise everyone going to buy the Fleet Foxes album and stay tuned for an ellaborate review of Bon Iver's new ditty as soon as it drops.

Patriotic Sex Acts.

I don't enjoy bugs. Spring, yes. Bugs, find another season to be present.

Let's just end the weekend with this thought. I woke up Sunday morning in someone else's bed. Leopard sheets engulfed me in once again someone else's pajamas as well. Don't worry, the pepper shaker I stole was a mere 5 feet away, and the stamp on my hand read "OK." Clearly they were mistaken. Sunday was a day of chatting with the moms and recovering. I don't have a solid recollection of anything else noteworthy. I finished the evening with decisions to start a Bingo league with a friend. (Team Bingo Dreams) and going to dinner with a friend who was just one of many friends and mentors that are suggesting that I looking into law school and/or Ivy league master's programs... Please connect how I woke up Sunday morning with this last comment. Of course I am president material... Eat your heart out Bill.

Market Q is raging. New farms and vendors are getting locked in everyday. I still haven't purchased Carharts.

During a coffee'd up conversation, a friend and I came to the majorly scientific conclusion that women came before men. Largely based on the evidence provided in Fantasia and simple anatomy we decided that since we all formed from sludge that women are typically smaller in size, therefore we were finished solidifying long before men. This is empowering and depressing all at once considering the gender wage gap is still very real when we could have essentially started working first and/or set the pay scale.. Whatever, hindsight is 20 20.

Portland is nicknamed "Rip City" - this has a direct connection with The Blazers. Let's break that down. Rip city = muscle reference = Portland nickname = Portland is The Blazer's muscles. Epic.

Queer dance parties are still not my scene, however I do enjoy acting a fool letting mean muggers judge me accordingly. Portrait walls are also provided at said events, which basically means I get to pose inappropriately and use other people's purses as props and improperly call them "Trapper Keepers"

Tonight is Ellie Goulding evening at the Doug Fir.

Monday is the first practice round of Team Bingo Dreams... Walter (Amelia) and Barnaby (Ali) will head out in garb with rich life stories to The Liberty Glass for an early evening of dobbing and owning fools at Bingo. Stay tuned. There will be merch for sale soon...

Rage on.

Hang overs and finger pistols

Today was the day that sealed the deal that I am in fact too old for "throwing down" in any form... After a 13 hour day of work (no shit) and four changes of outfits (running get up, the eweshe day-to-day jeans and t, then my business fuckable/gay secret service pantsuit, and finally my going out clothes... typically the last one involves a button down in various plaid/flannel and maybe suspenders or my beloved fanny pack) I set out for my first "queer dance party." Bent was the name of said event and it exists once a month at a bar called Foggy Notion. Shockingly it was a terrible mess that really only served me in the form of providing people for watching at a distance. I have not felt more at home then with the interesting and overly into themselves crowd I witnessed last eve. Lots of dirty peoples, bad non-hair styles, fake glasses, and tiny outfits. Fail.
I managed a quote for the evening being that I was made aware that there was a specific lady who is quite creepy and stalkertastic and that I should be careful... Of course my response was "I am going to finger pistol her by the end of the night..." < this is not a dirty phrase it simply means I was going to shoot her with finger guns and make noises with my mouth- don't worry. Alas I did no such thing, but as the night was dying down and people's inappropriateness started showing itself I naturally went and introduced myself to her and by the next day she had already commented on a photo of my deep in the archives of Facebook and asked to be able to gchat with me when I never gave her my email address. Successfully did that to myself.. I rule.
Back to the point though... I had three drinks and maybe a red headed slut (it just had to happen) and this morning I could not bring myself to get out of bed until 9:00. For those of you that know me this is a bad deal... Not even good sex and a movie marathon can keep me in bed past 7:00.
I spent the entire day being mildly stupid and uncoordinated with every word and stumble... Finally my new platonic soulmate/ domestic partner settled for watching a movie I can't even remember and I may or may have not swept her floor.. I am a catch ladies... Get it before it's extinct.
In other news I had a lovely chat with the moms this morn about ladies, committed relationships, having children, wearing make-up, and then we started a worm compost... It felt right.
My run hurt in ways that I haven't experienced in a while, so I am looking forward to possibly putting my body into shock once again tomorrow. I may even double up and bike too.
For now all I can say is that the Vitamin D supplements everyone suggested me taking don't work and I think it is all a bunch of crap. The only thing that would make mama happy this evening is a new onesie with a built in cup holder for some hot tea... and maybe a box set of Doogie Howser. And some dark chocolate... and a craft box...

Hump Day Frump Day

Since it has been a few days I will catch all 5 readers up to date...
Monday I discussed cupcake permits with a vendor and now we have a rad date to park her truck in our parking lot. I am excited to see the inside of said kitchen truck, because someone has a fascination with being a truck driver... Or mostly just loves the idea of small spaces being used for unorthodox things (i.e. cooking, sleeping, camping, etc.) I am pretty sure I also watched Addam's Family andddd Fried Green Tomatoes. I have decided that if everyone in Portland is going to have a "queer" name aka a non-gendered name that mine will be Idgy. Also, that movie is racial. Addam's Family is not fit for children. I will not have children. Speaking of children, I have embarked on a new sweatshirt project. This one is themed: whatever I want. This includes: old timey pictures of ladies, a Lemur/raccoon button (even though there is no need for a button), a weird photo wheel thing, and some random items like monuments, coffee cups, and Airstream trailers. All outlined in glitter. Duh.

Tuesday was Gingie's day in the capitol. It was filled with jest and fun with my beloved mentor/boss, filing, and scanning. I experienced the office workplace slump at about 3pm and resorted to cookies and a Diet Pepsi from the Capital Cafe. It was sick. I managed to squeeze in a run and then went to watch Lost in Translation, which ended up being hold a sick corgi and drink Apricot Ale night. Dinner of champions: Beer, Emergen-C, and a banana. Go rexi or go home.

Today I felt burnt out by about 8:15am. This is unacceptable for someone such as myself. I tried to remedy this by eating a PB & J for breakfast. It failed. I also tried flirting with everyone I came in contact with before 8:30am just to see if making people smile would help... Also failed and resulted in potential new stalkers and making me feel uncomfortable. Mind you two of them were gas station attendants and the others worked at a Starbucks in Beaverton. I blame myself.

After job #1 it was off to Salem to have lunch with Oregon's Secretary of State, Kate Brown, and attend a legislative meeting for 2012. Kate = awesome. Looks like a certain gingie will be keeping doors open for the possibility of law school or MBA/MPA in the future. Pretty sure I need business cards like yesterday. .. I need fun, unboring, and appropriate ideas for this project.

For the rest of the evening I will do emails, laundry, and be in bed by 9:45. I rule. Days like these make me want to cry like a sissy baby for no reason. They also make that McDonald's sign that says "20 nuggets for $4.99" look almost imperative to my survival. Every now and then my days are so mentally long that the only thing I want is something horribly self-destructive. I kept driving and just bit my nails instead. Sick.. But my immune system is better than everyone else's!

A typical Saturday evening

Portland was quite lovely yesterday... Sunny for most of the day, then a random hail moment, and back to sunny but gray. I experienced an iced black sassafras tea and quite frankly I would have rather had Starbucks. I drank it... Don't worry.

I spent my evening away from my typical Saturday night raver scene of house music, excessive drug use, meaningless sex with strangers, and wearing neon (one of these is actually true). I attended the Scappoose Senior Center (pop. just under 5000- located off Hwy 30 in BFE Oregon) Mayor's Ball. In a nut shell my evening went as follows:
Arrival- During the silent auction I bid on a deer painting, a hand-painted miniature boot, and almost straight walked out with an electric gravy boat. Sadly I only won the boot, but it is a treasure none the less.
I was asked in a round about of ways why I was there by the elders and then it was suggested that this must not have been my idea... I informed them that I actually chose to come and that I was actually having a splendid time. Rude
Dinner: mini-burgers, battered fries, tiny banana splits, and iceberg salads. You had to pay for soda though- that wasn't free... The drinks were weak and you weren't allowed to buy just shots. Fail.
The theme was 50's sock-hop... There were exactly four people dressed the part.
The DJ played Britney Spears, Nickelbak, and Mambo #5 for a few hours to get warmed up then switched to 50's music. Later I noticed that said DJ was auctioning off his services in the "oral" auction (their words)- get it while its hot folks. Geriatrics love Brit...
The top items to bid on during the oral was a 75' section of stain-resistant carpet, $50.00 gift card for gravel, a ceramic giraffe (of course I threw some bids on that), but the only item that riled up the crowd was a $100 gift certificate for garbage removal or a porta potty. After a bidding war it sold... For $100.
As per usual I was more interested in wall decorations that I could steal for my very own... The best thing was that they had handmade glittery signs with phrases from the 50's (i.e. Kookie, Big Daddy, Daddy O, beatniks, I "dig" you, etc.) Naturally, I only had interest in the sign that read "Hand Jive." After commandeering that I saw a picture of saddle oxfords outlined in glitter and took that too for good measure.
I solidified my existence by uttering hoots and hollers at various big ticket auction items and calling some abstract crayon art offensive as they tried to auction it off..
We left by 9:30. I was beat.
The night was finished with a VHS viewing of My Girl and coloring/stenciling. Unfortunately, that was accompanied with getting snotted on by a dog and gassed on by a Corgy.
My precious day off will be spent bike riding and possibly making an attempt to go read somewhere (only if I remove all electronic communication devices within a 1 mile radius will this work). For the rest of you, I recommend busting out that old CD of Lauren Hill's Miseducation of... album and giving it a good listen. She isn't racist anymore... It's fine.