Fun in Patches

DSC_0111
Originally uploaded by glory8888@sbcglobal.net

yeah. we're awesome.

The Darker Days of Pollyanna

9-5-08
the man on couch corner wears his rings well
tightly clamped, he keeps them
around eyes i'll spare myself from meeting
as we pass
he is the last and first example
of what i may become in your absence
- resolve tucked snuggly in at the corners,
scars where opportunity no longer knocks -
to the dog, this man
with his layers of sweaters and regret
is a king
the prince of yesterday's garbage
the lord of all delightfully unholy things

again, not unlike you.

The city is a concentration of extremes: the rich with the poor, the sane with the lost, the very best and the very worst of what we are, or what we are capable of. Today I am witness to the clash of opposites... one man who fails to live up to my very smallest, most pessimistic hopes for humanity opposing another who far exceeds any strength or grace I am capable of. It's difficult to maintain perspective when moments like these occur... each man has his own story, neither of which I know. Each man has led a life that has steeled him for this confrontation, and who am I judge? Who am I to even have an opinion?

It's sad, though, plainly, to see someone rise above... someone who has faced ugliness so many unmentionable times that it is no longer worth acknowledging it. It's maturity, it's grace, it's the right thing to do, to rise above. But it sucks. It sucks that we have become the sort of jerks who make each other rise above our crap.
I wish we could see each other. We wander around so wrapped in our own egos we don't bother to connect, to notice, to care. How sad we are becoming.

You will walk past many people today. I hope you look them in the eye.

More love letters to Portland...

I love this city because it keeps me awake at night.

It's been a bit of a puzzle trying to find a job up here, but I'm still searching, still Starbucking... I met with the head of the Graduate English program at PSU to discuss my future. We are like minded and he was kind to me... I'm afraid of the years it will take, but not afraid of the choice to go back to school or the commitment to this place... I feel very much at home here.

It is good to have friends who live two blocks from my door, and good to walk to work at 4am, and good to take the dog window shopping on lazy afternoons. It is good to watch a thousand swifts zipper themselves into a chimney, and good to see the same faces on the same corners, and good to watch movies at the pub down the street in the middle of the night. It is good to feel fall descending, and good to litter the streets with posters and chalk messages and know they will reach the intended recipient. It is good to have a pattern... to walk a path into a concrete sidewalk, to follow in your own footsteps, to feel at home. It is good to be here.


i miss my family, but it is good to know that I can feel myself here, feel like myself here... to write my name on the sidewalk and know where I belong.

a week in revue...

So we had our Obama party last week to watch all the speechin'... a good time had by all. We also feel that McCain's choice of running mate is a cheap move on his part... honestly. Choosing someone BECAUSE they're a woman is just as sexist as NOT choosing someone because they're a woman. Anyhow, pictures:




(this is Dan and Mel's place, btw)











Caper braved the dog park for the first time in years, and despite never leaving my side for more than 15 seconds, he did well.






I've decided since moving here that we want to be the sort of people who shop at the farmer's market. Introducing:



Fruits and Vegetables!!! part of your complete breakfast.

and to combat all those vitamins and fiber and whatnot:



turns out the oven works. yumm.


love.

Chivalry is alive and well...

The walk from my store to my apartment takes approximately four action-packed minutes. Today, I passed a surly group of vagrants arguing about something or other. I have perfected my "I'm neither afraid of nor interested in you" city walk for just this sort of occasion, so I began it, and as I passed:

Scuzzy Dude A: You're a f***ing a-hole, B.

Scuzzy Dude B: Oh yeah, well f*** you, you ba*****.

At this point, Dude B notices me, turns, tips his hat, bows a little:

B: Pardon my language, m'am.

The woman who runs everywhere, well, less runs than scuttles, like a crab or maybe a squirrel, ran up behind me the other day. She yells, a talking-to-my-buddy-across-the-football-stadium yell: "I was on my way to Boise... Boise, Idaho. But I got off at Portland. But they told me to go to Boise. But I said hell no. I'd rather go to Girlsy. Girlsy, Idaho."

I love this city. :)

In the beginning...

This is only a test blog, primarily to see what the text looks like on the page and dink around with the title some more. So far, it's the most interesting thing to read on this page, so if you're here, and you're reading it, I hope you are entertained. Whoooo hoo, let's read as Karyn recounts to us the exciting ins and outs and ups and downs of the blog layout design process. Step One: get as many meaningless words on the page as possible, cause that's the only way to see how it looks. Step Two: Post and view.

In which she waxes all poetic about how much she loves you...

Honest, albeit morbid, truth: I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to blog about, but I feel compelled to leave some sort of written legacy just in case I wind up stranded in the middle of the Atlantic. I'm only nervous about airplanes until I'm actually on them. It's all Disneyland from boarding time on... ;)

So in two days I get my butt out of the country, out of my life... and out on an adventure that has been literally years in the making. I think I'm at the crisis stage of planning - that fuzzy space where it hasn't quite sunk in that you're actually going anywhere, and you are equal parts elated and terrified. I've spent the past 8 or 9 months of my life living every minute in preparation for this trip... every decision I've made, every struggle I've had, all of them have rotated around this now imminent core. I'm ready, but I'm a bit sad to let go of the waiting...

Oregon has been a Twilight Zone of sorts for me... a solitary bootcamp where instead of running laps I do exercises in independence. And this trip has been a part of every moment thus far. I guess I'm a bit worried that when I get back I'll have to actually start planning for the rest of my life. Whoosh. (that was time... flying... it wooshes)

Here's where I am, before leaving for Africa, before coming back undoubtedly different than I am now, before continuing to change. Here's my heart as best I can present it to you:

I am blessed. So purely, richly, and undeniably blessed to have encountered and loved truly amazing, amazing people. All of you have molded me, taught me, broken me, and inspired me... I wear your influence like merit badges, so dang proud to say that I stole your jokes, your strategies, your brilliant ideas. I am blessed to have a family that I never get tired of... parents who continue to teach and inspire me, especially when I don't expect them to, and a sister who consistently impresses me with her maturity and her grace. And I have these amazing friends, many of whom I hardly know, many others I have known for years... this insanely varied collection of oddballs who mean more to me than they'll probably ever know, largely because I'm never very good at saying it. You guys amaze me. You truly, madly, deeply do. ;)

I am stronger than I know. I've been in a bit of self-inflicted solitude this year, completing a very private pact I made with the parts of me that I didn't recognize a year ago. I have spent a year with myself, trying to be more of who I want to be and less of who I so often am, trying to avoid the things that make me selfish, or flighty, or scared. I think I've been afraid of myself for most of my life... those of you who know me best have witnessed this fear, probably as I was crying at you while trying to learn something new... so very afraid to fail.

My friend Jean, who is one of those people who takes other people and plugs them into all kinds of spaces that they didn't know they could fill, challenged me this year. Funny, she snuck it up on me in just the right way... you'd think she'd known me long enough to know you have to catch me last minute. She invited me, nonathletic me, to participate with a team in a relay race of sorts. Then she lied to me. "No big deal.." says Jean, "No one's really competitive... just a teensy weensy little race and it's tomorrow and it's free." And here's the thing: I did it. I went to a place I'd never been to be on a team with people I'd never met and paddle a canoe in a race. And I made friends, and I paddled my little heart out, and 1500 teams competed, and it was huge, and we had jerseys and a sponsor and I was pretty dang scurrd... but I did it. And I paddled the whole time without stopping, which is more than I thought I could do. And I realized something: I'm a grown up. I can handle me. I like me. And I'm not afraid. ;)

Except, of course, of letting go of Africa. Because I've been the girl who's going to Africa for a good long while now. I'd thought that preparing for the trip was the test of faith... the saving and the sacrificing... but the test is going. The test is leaping, and allowing it to end, and believing that this, like everything, is only the beginning of the wonders that God has planned for my life. The leap of faith is coming home.

God is good, all the time. I worry that I'll come across as cocky, what with liking me and all. But the thing is, everything about me that is worth anything , anything that is beautiful, or intelligent, or funny, or any of the things that I want to see in me, all of those are simple manifestations of the amazing grace that has been afforded me. My strengths were created for a purpose, and I want to be whole enough to let them work, to let God work in the fullness of his power. For what may be the first time, I want to be accountable, I want to be called out, and I want to be broken as much as it takes to refine me. I've been allowed to taste the freedom that comes from not having anything in this world that I value more than the gift of grace and the love of my God... and it manages to make me love everything more. Funny, that God dude and all his paradoxes... ok, what's the plural of paradox? Dang. I was on a role, too. Not making a point, but rolling. Stupid girl. ;)

If you read this far I owe you a cookie. If I wind up in the atlantic, know that you were appreciated. If I've hurt you, hold me accountable. If I've loved you, thank you for everything it has taught me. If you've loved me, you get two cookies. And a sympathetic face. Also a hug. Possibly dollars. Definitely my gratitude.

*yippee ki-aye-yay*