I am not often a movie-watcher. Name any popular movie and chances are, I have not seen it. I am catching up this summer, I keep finding movies I haven’t seen for $4, and others just keep turning up…including…
I think I had a strange dream last night. I can’t be sure, because the memory is so hazy that I can’t remember the context. It could have been a movie, or a very groggy version of reality.
I was walking down a street, and every action I made was finished to apparent completion. What I mean is, if I dropped something, it would fully decompose before my eyes. If someone fell, I could see how the injuries they received affected their entire life.
The memory I have of it is short and uncertain, but the huge effects that seemingly insignificant actions can have is a quite interesting concept. Reminds me of Run Lola Run.
Oregon is so unbelievably charming to me. It feels like home, but all the little differences leave me utterly smitten. The tree on the license plate. The ambiguous, unpredictable weather. No sales tax. U of O apparel. Fred Meyer. How green everything is. So many bridges. Beatiful large dogs. Strawberry pie…?!
Even the ridiculously small towns we went to (Dundee, St. Paul, to a lesser extent Newberg and Tigard) were so much less creepy than most I’ve seen. Or maybe that’s because I have an odd nonsensical respect for Oregonians, without valid reason.
Portland is a great city, and one of the cleanest I’ve seen. There’s a free public streetcar, to shuttle you around the city. Many people ride bikes! And I feel like the roadbike to fixie ratio is much less offensive here than in Davis. I love the rows of bridges over the Willamette–I spent a while this morning watching the birds dip and drift in the river. I finally feel like I know my way around here. I walked to Saturday market today, from there downtown, from there to Powell’s (bought two Huxley novels), and from there home, without any wrong turns.
Tomorrow morning–trainride to Seattle! Yet another lovely area of the Pacific Northwest.
I am not letting my cold and fever bring me down, either.
I am nineteen years old. If all goes well, in about three months, I will be twenty years old. Technically I have been an adult for almost twenty-one months, but I’ve never really felt like one, ever. Many of my friends say they’ve felt like an adult long before they legally were one, but not I. I loved being a child so much that I never want to stop. I won’t be an adult unless I am allowed to do cartwheels and play games. I feel young. I feel like I still need to be cut slack. I feel like I still don’t know any better.
It’s inevitable though. I did childhood, I’m done. There’s only one place for me now, and I’ll remain there until I die. Adulthood. It’s just a matter of getting there, or accepting that I am there, and I’m in no rush. I hopefully have many many more years of adulthood ahead of me, but my youth will soon come to an irreversible end. I’m savoring these last bits…!
Lately I’ve been having moments like: whoa. I live here. Here in this house, without my parents. I have a housekey and a frying pan. I grocery shop and wash my sheets regularly. If I didn’t come home at night, it would take a while for people to realize I was gone. Even right now…no one who knows me could easily find me. I can be independent here, which is something I adore.
I’m almost ready. I have been having many recurrent thoughts of the future, envisioning myself having a job in someplace or another, paying bills, cooking and cleaning, saving up money to go see someplace else. I can do that, is what I’ve realized. Which is how I know I’m almost there.
I don’t think we should have to be one or the other. I’m just not ready to call it quits. The stages must be a sliding scale. Continuous. And all I can know is, I’m progressing.
My room has been infested for months. I have been covered in itchy spots constantly, and it has really been wearing me down. I spent 6 nights in a row on the couch last week, because I could not stand to go into my room…it was too hard to climb back into bed at night, knowing that I would wake up even more bitten than before.
It’s not bedbugs, it’s not fleas, it’s not mosquitoes, I could not figure out what it was. But some friends were over last weekend and they asked me why I had so many spiders everywhere.
I’m just not one to kill spiders, or anything for that matter. I just ignore them when I see them, which is why I haven’t really noticed that there have been way more than average in my bedroom. I have been bitten by spiders for months now. They have been crawling all over me, feeding on my blood in my sleep. Really creepy, actually. So finally I got pest control to come this weekend (while I was camping) and apparently they sprayed my room and it’s taken care of.
But while camping I got dozens of mosquito bites, so no relief yet.
Moment of truth tonight, when I sleep in my hopefully spider-free haven!!
If you happen to be interested in how I am progressing as a badass (or if you just enjoy Shona and me interfacing), Shona and I just created a blog for this very purpose:
Mmmm…it never starts to feel like Spring to me until it starts to feel like Summer. Finally, it’s fruit season! Today I’ve already eaten a banana, a mango, an apple, and a pear. It’s getting to be so nice and hot out which means 1) I no longer feel like running throughout the day, and 2) I feel like studying less than ever before. And 3) REC POOL! I’m in the library right now, hoping that the A/C will make me more studious. I love the library here…so many nooks and crannies to explore! I find a new magical study area each time. Used to be a cranny on the 4th floor, but today I discovered a nook on the 2nd: a large windowsill which allows me to sit (not in a chair) and study and feel like I’m in a tree.
Sitting in chairs is something I’ve found I rarely do. Weird? I am always sitting on the floor in my room on my laptop, eating dinner, etc. I just cannot sit conventionally, I have to have my legs folded up!
I’m giving up on studying for now–I’m going home to make banana bread!
Also, Happy Birthday Caroline!
My aunt recently posted pictures on Facebook of my grandmother when she was young, and I can’t stop looking at them! My grandma was so special, and so beautiful. I don’t think anyone’s adequately been able to describe the effect she had on people. She was just magnetic–so much love to spare, even with seven kids. Especially with seven kids.
People tell stories of her, about how she would smile at them and they would feel so warm and loved and like everything was right. Even her in-laws easily fell for her.
My senior year of High School, I spent my winter break at her bedside. I was so fortunate to have that time! I sat next to her every day, knitting and being with her, even though she could no longer speak or eat. But even then, I would look at her and think, “wow, she is still gorgeous!”. Her nails still so perfect, her hair never turned gray. And even when she was so ill, she would muster a smile when you entered the room. I loved her so much, still do.
And the more I think about it, the more I realize the wonderful similarities she and my own mother share. They both have that magnetism. People are drawn to them and trust them easily, just a smile bringing them in. I never realized how much they looked alike until I saw those old pictures again: similar eyes, nose, face shape, or is it the mouth? Whatever it is–they’re both beautiful.
I have found it hard to relate to people who dislike their mothers, ’cause I love mine so unbelievably much! I brag all the time about my mom–in fact, just a moment ago I was telling my roommate Stacey about how great our relationship is, and how funny she is, and how much I love her. And last weekend I was telling my friends about “Maldeterre”, my mom’s example bad girl who did everything naughty. I loved that, I remember asking my mom about what Maldeterre would do in situations–she would throw sand at other children! she would not share! she had temper tantrums! etc. Example of my mom’s genius: Maldeterre means bad of the earth! While Maldeterre did all the “bad” things, I would always ask my mom what she did when she was my age, because I admired her so much, even when I was very young. I thought she must have been the opposite of Maldeterre!
But I cannot help bragging. She did everything just right for us. Sometimes we joke that because Anna and I are such “good” kids that she never got to try out her stellar parenting strategies. But it’s only because she raised us in the most amazing way possible. Simply, with so much love. She cooked a delicious (and most importantly, balanced) meal every night. She is the reason I love music so much, and is responsible for most of my musical collection (even Sufjan). She fueled my deep connection and obsession with the outdoors. And perhaps my favorite thing is how much we laugh. When I’m home, I am just laughing constantly because together, everything does it.
I suppose the only way I can truly repay her is to love her back. I am always trying to show her how much I do, but it’s impossible to give her what she gave me. Her love is spectacular.
(By the way…this was a fantastic coincidence. Only towards the end did I remember that this Sunday is Mother’s Day…!)
